A Cup of Coffee – Don’t Be Afraid To Jump

The time has come to say our final goodbye.

What a wild ride we’ve been on! You and I have made it through so much together over the last six years.

Wild Fires, Ten Day Ice Storms, the passing away of loved ones, serious illness diagnoses, and a pandemic that left us broken and divided.

Week after week, we still managed to meet here for A Cup of Coffee, to share our lives, and for that, I thank you.

And so here we go, one last time…join me, will you, for one last meaningful chat…

Life Doesn’t Give Us Many Chances…

or…does it? There have been many, many times in my life when I didn’t think I had any options. The most critical of these times was when I turned 47 and was still single. My children were grown, I was in a career that I was burning out on, and I truly felt like this was going to be my life…the rest of my life…working in a job that I needed for rent money, a job that was draining me emotionally and physically, with no support at home when I walked through the door at night, sad and discouraged with humanity in general.

Sounds pretty awful, doesn’t it? It was. It had never occurred to me that I could be happier than I was. Any thought of moving out of my foxhole was terrifying to me.

And Then It Happened…

I had reconnected with an old friend online. He and I had a long history having both been enrolled in a dance troupe and assigned as partners. We had danced for 10 some years, and in the process had fallen in love, but didn’t dare tell each other. In those days you just didn’t, and besides, if we had partnered and then broken up, things in the troupe would have been awkward at best.

I had seen him on social media, but hadn’t done anything more than accept his friend invite, as his status was “married”. I knew I still had feelings for him, and I didn’t want to be that girl…the one who comes in between a husband and wife. So I stayed quiet.

The Realization…

One day, he messaged me. My heart jumped. Do I respond? I decided to be upfront and tell him that I didn’t message him because he was married and I didn’t know how his wife would feel about that. To my surprise, he and his wife were no longer together, and he simply hadn’t changed his status.

He was living in New York City, working as a CFO for a large, nationwide non-profit. My heart fell again. I was taking care of my elderly parents, and there was no way I was moving. Plus, too scary! I had never left our rural hometown. Cow pastures were my life.

The Visit Home…

He came home for a visit having seen me respond “going” to a casual class reunion. I had no idea he was coming, and at the last minute decided not to go to the event. Then I saw online that he had attended. He was in town. My poor heart flipped again. Now what?

The Fear Didn’t Win…

I was nervous to reach out, but reach out I did, even if it did sound somewhat accusatory. “You’re in town? And you didn’t even call to see me”? His response was, “I thought you’d be at the reunion”…OH. Well, shoot. He asked me out for a drink and I readily accepted.

We met at my choice of location, which was our hometown Denny’s restaurant. Not what that New Yorker meant when he said “drink”, but coffee it was. I had no idea about such things. I had never gone out for a “drink” before!

When I met him in the restaurant, he reached out for my hands and as he took them, I noted they were sweaty. I remembered from our performances, that right before going on stage, he would get very nervous and his hands would sweat. He was nervous to see me! Such a great sign, right?

Like Old Times…

I was so happy to see that New York hadn’t changed him, and he was still that same sweet boy I had known 30 years ago. We talked all evening, as if no time had passed, getting caught up on each other’s lives.

When we finally had to say goodnight, he said, “You should come to New York…we can see a Broadway show as we’d always dreamed about when we were kids”. To his surprise, I said yes. He hugged me in the parking lot, pulled me close, and whispered in my ear, “Promise”? I nodded…yes, I promise.

This Can’t Be For Real…

I went back to work the next business day and told my coworkers about the eventful weekend I’d had. For once I had something to talk about! I was giddy. Alas, I told them, it can never be. He lives in New York. I was met with a barrage of “why not”s and “don’t let that stop you”s. They said I deserved to be happy…but did I? Or did I deserve to be responsible and take care of my business…I wanted to jump, but I wasn’t sure I could fly.

I Decided One Trip Wouldn’t Hurt…

I had never been to the East Coast. This was a first for me, and I almost didn’t get on the plane. The only thing that propelled me to follow through was remembering his hug…his arms around me. I needed to feel that again.

I took the red eye on Jet Blue, and landed at JFK the next morning. He had hired a driver to take us to his apartment on the Upper East Side. I need you to understand at this point in my story, that I was not wealthy. In fact, I had never technically been above the poverty line, even though I had dedicated my career to working in social services and was currently a manager. I was entering a world of the movie “Pretty Woman” caliber and wasn’t prepared at all.

Everything Was Different…

Nothing in New York was like home. It was loud, smelled like exhaust fumes, people were in a hurry, and people were aggressive. He lived in an apartment that was more like a hotel with a doorman, security, maid service, and bellhops. When our car arrived, the door opened and a white-gloved hand stuck itself inside. I shrunk back in horror. “What is happening” I managed to squeak out. He laughed and said, “Take his hand…he’s offering to help you out of the car”.

I know it may sound silly, but I didn’t know real people lived like this.

The week I was there was one of fairy tales. It ended with him putting me on a horse-drawn carriage in Central Park. The driver covered us with a red velvet blanket and as the horses started to clop through the park, the snow started to fall, ever so softly. David turned to me and said, “Before I put you on the plane for home, I need to know I’m going to see you again. I lost you once and I can’t lose you again”.

Let’s Try This Again…

I agreed to come back, but he had to stop the fairy tale stuff and let me see how he really lived. He needed to go to work so I could see what it would be like being alone all day in Manhattan.

I went back and forth several times over the next six months, and then we married at the urging of my parents. My mama said, “We found our happiness…go find yours”.

The Agreement…

I agreed to marry him if he agreed that our goal was to move back to Oregon and take care of our parents until they passed, and he held up his end of the bargain. One year later, that’s how he became employed by The Northwest Osteopathic Medical Foundation, the Foundation that I would then join five years later. David Tate is not only my husband but my boss.

I Would Follow Him Anywhere…

When David announced he was retiring, I knew my days at the Foundation were numbered, one way or the other, but I’m not scared about being without employment. If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the last decade it’s not to be afraid of the unknown. Don’t worry about whether or not you can fly…because who says what you are jumping off of is a cliff? What if it’s a curb? Most importantly, don’t ever, ever give up. There’s no reason to give up. None.

I Want To Leave You With This…

This isn’t goodbye unless you want it to be. I have a Facebook page under Linda Tate (Guttormsen), and you can either follow me or friend me. My email is lindajeantate@hotmail.com and you can email me. My phone number is 503-341-4540 and you can text me. I only actually answer known numbers…and really not many of those.

I intend to write a book in the coming years, so you will hopefully see me again on your local bookstore shelf, as well!

So I say, “See you later”, and if not, if this is truly goodbye, then I wish you well. I wish you a life of taking chances. A life that you aren’t afraid of living. I wish you love.