While you're busy making other plans

When I first moved to Fernandina Beach in September of 1985, I remember thinking to myself, “What an amazing place to discover by accident!” I have lived here off and on since then — most of it with Andrew, my partner of 37 years. Andrew would always sing the praises of this cute little town and how the residents were “sweet as sugar." And I agreed.  

Andrew left this plane in March of 2020, at the exact moment when the plans of the entire world were upended by COVID. 

I have always enjoyed the fact that the address of my childhood home was “2020." Because it was also the conventional measure of having perfect vision and came to connote clarity not only of vision but direction and purpose, for me it held a certain panache. I had been looking forward to the promise of the year 2020 holding joyful and fortuitous circumstances. Instead, I settled for “what doesn’t kill me will make me stronger."

Relief set in when an effective vaccine was on the way by the end of the year. Surely, 2021 would be a year of action for me. But in the words of John Lennon from his song Beautiful Boy, “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans." In some mirror universe, events on my negative bucket list manifested. In March, on the emotional first anniversary of Andrew’s passing, en route after the funeral of a special friend, I had the most severe auto accident of my life. In the next 24 hours, I ticked off a series of firsts. First major injury (compound fracture of my ankle); first ride in an ambulance as the victim; first admission into a hospital; first time under general anesthesia; and first major surgery. All this on the eve of my 67th birthday! I now faced three months with no weight-bearing on my right foot, followed by at least three months of physical therapy. Increased dependency on friends and family was not something I relished. There was nothing left to do but take it one day at a time. My friends and local family were supportive. Between rides from kind friends and the county para-transport service, I was able to navigate shopping, medical and therapy appointments. The days went by and I got back on both feet, albeit with a walking boot for a few months. 

I tried to arrange my errands with as few outings as possible. On a hot August afternoon, I had two medical appointments on my schedule, then planned a long-overdue visit to my bank. I was able to arrange transport from my home to physical therapy, followed by a pickup at rehab to get me the next mile for a routine appointment with my hearing aid specialist. Since the para-transport service stopped at 4 p.m., I would have to handle the last leg myself. I may have overestimated my stamina, especially in the heat. As I proceeded along my route on the main drag, I started feeling like a wet noodle and every minute seemed like an eternity. I finally reached the intersection of the side street that would get me over to the bank. My ankle began to ache as I stoically made my way along the uneven sidewalk. Almost on the verge of tears, I was stopped by an unexpected obstacle. The next length of sidewalk at the foot of the entry into the adjacent building had been barricaded to prevent pedestrian crossing. As the pain in my foot intensified, I began to doubt if I could even make it to the bank before closing. As cars zipped by, I was really starting to feel sorry for myself. That’s when, like Pegasus, my white chariot appeared! A woman behind the wheel of a white SUV opened the window and asked if I was all right. I breathlessly indicated that I actually could be better. She immediately offered me a lift and helped me into the vehicle. I thanked her profusely as I explained my desire to get to the bank before closing. For a moment, I simply relished the cool zephyr across my face emanating from the AC vent. We made our introductions and, in a flash, we were at the entrance to the bank. I assured her that I would manage from there. But my earthly angel insisted that although she had to get home to her pet, I must take her number and call her to take me home when I was done. And that is what I did.

Self-reliance is generally considered a great virtue. It behooves us all to develop the skills and attitudes to deal with difficult situations. Most of us would rather not always depend on the kindness of strangers. Yet, without the humility to graciously accept help when it can ease our way and the compassion to offer it when we can be of service, life would be much lonelier and tougher. On that hot, fretful day, I was happy to be reminded that the people of Fernandina Beach are still sweet as sugar! 

While I probably cannot totally abandon making plans, experience has shown me that they should never be written in stone. I will continue to strive to embrace my life as it is, with all its sloppiness, twists and turns. Otherwise, I may well forfeit the gifts of connection, community and loving-kindness that ultimately define a life well-lived. What about you?

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Ruthellen Mulberg has been a resident of Fernandina Beach for a total of 25 years, most of it with her husband, Andrew. She enjoys participating in the rich cultural activities available on this island, including performing in several of its musical and theatrical venues.

If you have a story you'd like to share here in the Fernandina Observer — about a neighbor or friend or stranger or business that showed you kindness - please contact Peggie Weeks at pegweeks@gmail.com