Hawaii. I’ve always wanted to go. I was due to visit it in 2011, but my travels had all been disrupted after my father died and I scrambled to finish a dissertation, find a permanent job in a devastated economy, and cobble together money from temporary teaching work.
Then, one day in the middle of 2010, one of my oldest and dearest friends called while I was walking the dog at a Toledo metropark. She and I had both celebrated graduations that year, mine after a doctorate and hers after a masters that we both struggled to complete while meeting the demands of the rest of our lives. “I have an idea to celebrate,” she said, “and I don’t want you to reject it out of hand.” It seems she had to travel to Hawaii for work, and would I consider coming along? We would have a hotel in Waikiki, but the rest of the cost was up to us. “I know it’s an expense, but I hope you will think about it. We need to celebrate.” Are you kidding? You had me at Hawaii. Is it the wrong year? Yup. But I was falling behind already, and this was a chance to have a traveling companion for one of the most remote states in the US. And I love beaches. And I had a few months to figure out frequent flyer miles or any other travel game I could play to go see a place I had always wanted to see with somebody dear to me. And maybe I did deserve to celebrate my completion of a doctorate.
It was an utterly impractical, extravagant, and premature thing to do. I’m so glad I made it happen.