Now that I’ve actually started writing about my travels I had someone ask me why I waited 14 months. A few reasons:
The learning curve of moving into an RV and traveling non-stop was STEEP and I had too much to do and learn (add in the fact that this was also happening during a global pandemic and damn….much learning was done).
I like to process things. I find that real-time writing can becomes a bit of a trauma explosion - in the moment, omg, what is happening, what I have done - sort of writing and those feelings always pass. I like to deal with those moments and feelings in non-public settings. So now that I’ve been through things, learned things, see patterns, have complete stories it feels like a better moment to start sharing.
If you asked me what the biggest lesson has been since I started traveling it would be this…every single inch of this country has experienced the pandemic wildly differently. I was in Chicago for two months at the very beginning of the pandemic. I was in my apartment, wrapping up my work via Zoom. I did not leave my place besides to walk dogs for those two months. The Illinois and Chicago government had us locked down hard. Everything was shuttered. Masks. Distancing. Avoiding. It was apocalyptic. It felt like the exact right thing to be doing.
I had made these plans a year in advance of covid. I had given my notice 8-months before, given up my apartment as of the end of June, bought an RV. There was really no turning back. I was scared. Everything I had planned had been cancelled. I had no plans, no direction, and no idea what I was going to do. That is not an awesome feeling.
At the end of June I moved into my RV and headed to Michigan to stay at what was supposed to be a remote public camping space where fireworks were banned and you had to be self-contained to go there because all public facilities (water, toilets, showers) were closed due to Covid. I was going to spend the 4th of July in silence and in the woods far away from people.
Was. Not. Prepared.
That campground was PACKED OUT. There were at least 50 people in a tiny lake, unmasked, at all times - mouth breathing all over each other. I called it lake covid. I am going to assume many of them were treating that as both a toilet and a shower since there were plenty of tent campers drinking lots of beer. It was a non-stop barrage of huge fireworks for 15 hours straight. It was fucking miserable and terrifying. All of these people acting like everything was normal and there was no pandemic. A jarring change from my Chicago experience. I haven’t felt that unsafe in a long time.
(lake covid, early morning, before anyone was awake)
I quickly moved on. I was slated to stay at another campground in Niagara, NY. I got there and experienced a similar disregard for covid. Folks were sharing public bathrooms and there was not a mask for miles. I was also surrounded by a sea of Trump flags. I kept my head down and bailed quickly.
It was about here that I realized I needed a different solution. I asked the internet if folks would be willing to let me park in their driveways for a night or two while I was traveling through. I set up a goolge form. Over 200 people across nearly every state offered up their land right away. I started staying with strangers turned friends as I traveled. I would show up masked. We would wave and chat outside. Sometimes we would share outdoor meals in yards. Sometimes we would stitch together in the driveway. Sometimes I wouldn’t even see them and we would just text. It became a way that I could feel safe, have a place to park, meet amazing people, and still have some sense of community and purpose. Meanwhile, I moved everything online and started figuring out how I was going to do this. (That’ll be another post)
(social distant, outdoor, separate tables, masked between bites, Thanksgiving in New Orleans)
(“driveway” in North Carolina)
I started to travel south. I remember pulling off the highway in Virginia to get gas and really needing a coffee. I put on my mask and shield and went into the gas station only to see no fewer than 30 unmasked people playing slots and keno. I immediately turned around and got the hell out of there.
Everywhere I went the lived experience of the pandemic was radically different. With no federal guidance, leadership, or mandates, it was a free-for-all based on the predominant politics of that state, county, city. I spent the winter in Texas but I stayed in Austin. While I was there, the governor (fuck Greg Abbot) lifted the mask mandate and declared that everything could go back to normal and everything could open at 100%. Austin leadership said - not in Austin. And literal hell broke loose. I traveled on.
There were places I went where you would have no idea that hundreds of thousands of Americans were dying of covid. Where folks just pretended it wasn’t a thing - mainly because they believe it was, and is still not, a thing. Life just went on as usual. LOTS OF PLACES. These folks have just been living their lives like the before times. I think it’s hard to imagine just how radically different the past year and half has been based on geography within the US.
All I wanted was the vaccine so I could feel a little bit safer when I was put into situations by others that put me at risk. It was NOT easy to secure a vaccine while traveling. I had a friend in Salt Lake City who pulled every string to get me my first jab while I was there. Thankfully by the time I needed my 2nd shot, vaccines had gotten easier to come by and I was able to get it in Washington State. I felt such a profound sense of relief.
Honestly, it has been pretty traumatic to witness. It’s been traumatic to navigate. I feel like I lived the past year alone with moments of connection and glimpses of our country but mostly I’m just resolved to the fact that this isn’t going to change and we will continue to deal with ramifications of what has been fostered and created.
Can you imagine if I had written this BEFORE I had processed it??? Like, this is some dark shit and I’ve spent 14 months living it and reflecting on it and the best I’ve got is…we are fucked.
I started to feel a sense of relief pre-delta variant and was THRILLED to be able to host an indoor stitch-up in Seattle. It felt like a miracle!
This week, I hosted two more in Minneapolis but masks were again required.
I have an event on the books for tomorrow night and just got my first “delta-variant” cancellation. I’m headed to Chicago next and there’s loud talk of reinstating the mask mandate and implementing some restrictions. So here we are.
Despite it, I am hell bent on finding joy and connection. So we will end with a photo of me as Bob Ross. I hosted a birthday party for him via Zoom and we all stitched a tiny Bob Ross, watched some parts of The Joy of Paining, had Bob Ross themed cocktails, and shared some Bob Ross trivia. Because we may be totally fucked but as Bob always said, “It’s so important to do something every day that will make you happy.”
Stay safe my friends.
Shannon