Stephanie's favorite TV show was Parks
& Rec, about a tough, smart woman in a small town. The first few
seasons, we always knew what night and what time it was on, and we always
watched, even the reruns. Then as we switched to a paid streaming service, we
binge-watched the show, over and over again. We must've watched the first six
seasons a dozen times.
Curiously, though, after re-watching
the sixth season, we watched only a few episodes of the show's seventh and
final season, before we looped back and started over with the first season. I'd
sometimes suggest that we finish watching the final season, but instead Steph
wanted to watch something else, or start over from the first season of Parks
& Rec.
"Why don't we ever watch the
final few episodes of Parks & Recreation?" I asked after she'd
declined again. "Do you think it jumped the shark and stopped being
funny?"
"Nah, the new episodes are
still funny," she said. "Maybe better than ever."
"Well, we have six or eight
episodes we've never seen, but you never want to watch 'em."
"I don't want it to be
over," she said. "If I don't watch the last few episodes, then it's not over. I still
have a few episodes to look forward to."
"I guess that makes 'Stephanie-sense',"
I said with a smile.
"Feel free to watch the final
episodes without me. My feelings won't be hurt."
"Nah," I said, "I'd much
rather wait and watch them with you. Any time you're ready, but no rush."
We had that conversation on her
birthday in 2017, two years after Parks & Rec went off the air.
Stephanie passed away the following summer, and we'd still never seen
the last few episodes of her favorite show. She wanted a few fresh episodes in
reserve, something she could look forward to, so she never saw those last episodes,
and I'll never watch them without her.
There are other shows we watched
together. 30 Rock — about a smart woman in the big city, a little like
Steph in San Francisco. Buffy the Vampire Slayer — about a smart girl who
battles monsters, a little like Steph vs the Dialysis Demons. Judge Judy
— about a smart woman who takes no crap from anyone, a little like Steph in a
bad mood. Orphan Black — about a smart woman who discovers she was
cloned, and keeps meeting other versions of her smart self. And also Firefly,
The Office, Shark Tank, The West Wing, and more. Watching
any of those shows with Steph was a pleasure, but more than the shows
themselves the real pleasure was watching with Steph, so I haven't
watched a moment of any of those shows since "with Steph" stopped
being an option.
That's the way it is with a lot of
things Stephanie and I did together. Slowly I'm building up my strength, and
eventually I'll do some of those things again, without her. I've been to Tenney
Park without her, eaten at Ogden's Diner without her, taken the cat to the vet
without her, and rewatched Breaking Bad without her, and I might try
making a few more of her recipes that I especially liked.
But there are other things Stephanie
and I did together that I can't do without her, not yet and probably not ever.
The memories would be too strong, and specific moments or just the general
ambiance would overwhelm me.
The first example that springs to
mind is bingo at the casino. Something about the numbers and the math behind
bingo really appealed to Stephanie, and she'd be in a good mood from the moment
we decided we were going, even days before we actually went. During the
hour-long drive to the casino, man, she'd be downright giddy. Me, I wasn't as wild about bingo as Steph was, but it was great seeing her so hugely happy. Never
acknowledged it even to myself, but now I realize that we played bingo more and
more often as her health issues mounted, just because she deserved the escape to
happiness.
Playing bingo or going to the casino
without her, though? What would be the point of that? Without Steph being happy, it
would only be Doug being sad. I'd melt into blubber and tears soon as I set
foot inside that casino, just remembering the times we walked the long carpeted
walkway to the bingo room, and the other times when I pushed her wheelchair. Absolutely,
neither Ho-Chunk nor Potawatomi Casino will ever see me again.
Of course, there's the Willy Street
Co-Op, where we've long had membership, and where Steph shopped for cooking
ingredients. Many times she came home from to Co-Op cooing about "all the
pretty vegetables" we'd purchased, before she turned them into excellent
stews or side dishes. Their pasta was unrivaled, Steph said, and she usually found
treats worth trying in the Co-Op's deli, and in their dairy and frozen food sections.
My most cherished memory of the
Co-Op is that during times when Steph could barely eat anything, she sustained
herself largely on their fresh-fruit smoothies. I'd stop and buy two on the
way home from work, and when I came home Stephanie would inhale the first one at once,
and save the second one for later. Sometimes those smoothies were her only
nourishment of the day, so I can't convey how highly I think of the Co-Op, and yet …
Nowadays I shop at the Co-Op rarely,
and only for two items no other stores sell — their excellent fragrance-free
dish soap, and their frozen cauliflower-rice risotto. Still, when I'm there, almost
every aisle holds memories of Stephanie at her happiest, and wow that hurts. It had
been the better part of a year since my last visit to one of their stores, and when
I stopped in a few days ago, I bought way too much dish soap and risotto,
explicitly so there would be plenty of time before I need to return.
Another summer tradition for
Stephanie and I was a movie at the drive-in. There are four drive-in cinemas
within an hour or so of Madison, but we usually went to the Highway 18 Drive-In
outside of Jefferson, where we bought their fabulous corn dogs or chicken
strips or cheeseburgers, always with popcorn. Steph never wanted to stay in the
car during the movie; instead we brought folding chairs and sat in front of our
car's headlights, and got bitten by bugs, and had a fabulous time. And again,
there's just no way I'd want to do any of that without Stephanie, so adios,
Highway 18 Drive-In.
There were some movies we watched
together, over and over again, in screenings at movie palaces when we lived in
San Francisco, and on DVD when we lived in Kansas City, and with on-line streaming
here in Madison. Stephanie's absolute favorites were two movies about smart
women — All About Eve and The Women. We'd watch those movies 3-4
times every year (yup, really) and we'd have somewhat the same conversations
whenever we paused the video, but always Steph would have something new and
insightful to say about the movies, too. Make no mistake, they're inarguably
terrific movies, but what made them (and several other favorites) so much fun
and so darn re-rewatchable, was rewatching them with Stephanie. Without Steph,
it's rarely even occurred to me to watch any of our favorite movies, and when
it has, I've always decided against it.
Without Steph, I don't go to movies
at theaters, either. Haven't done the film festival without her, and it's
doubtful that I ever will. There's a discount cinema in Madison where we saw
recent releases that seemed promising, but I haven't been there since her death.
And there's Cinematheque, the local venue for odd and obscure and old movies, where
we went often. The Cinematheque's calendar still comes in the mail, and I still
pin it to the wall and check to see what's coming soon … but I never attend,
and probably never will.
We often went to the zoo in Madison,
and we once went to the much bigger zoo in Milwaukee, and always enjoyed
ourselves. We had a great time at the Crane Foundation, too — a big zoo near
Baraboo, dedicated only to endangered cranes. But the idea of going back to any
of these zoos without Stephanie is just nonsensical, impossible, inconceivable.
We went to LaBahn Arena, to watch
the University of Wisconsin women's hockey team, several times each winter. Always
we had a blast, and always we were too cold, no matter how well we'd bundled up
— it's winter in Wisconsin, so it's 10° or 20° outside, and not much warmer inside
when you're so close the ice rink (which is, after all, made of ice). The games
are fun, and the team always seems to be in contention for the national championship,
but I could never return to LaBahn without Stephanie.
The arboretum is a sprawling prairie
and savanna on Madison's west side, where we wandered onto dirt trails,
including a spooky tunnel that goes under the freeway to an even more remote,
disconnected part of the arboretum. We lost the Arboretum, though, when Stephanie could
no longer walk. "It wouldn't be fun just staying on the paved paths," she said,
so we never went back. And now? No. The trees, the brush, and all the paths at
the Arboretum are only about Steph; without her they don't exist, not for me.
And then there's her parents' house
in Racine, where Stephanie grew up. I've been to the homestead a few times after
Steph died, and her parents have always been warm and welcoming, but the house just
oozes Stephanie memories — pictures on the wall, steps where we sat and talked,
the basement where we slept when we stayed overnight, and walking all around the
neighborhood, holding hands. It's overpowering to sit on the couch where I sat
beside Steph so many times, or eat at the same table where Steph and I ate and
played board games with her folks on so many enjoyable afternoons. So … I'll return
to the house, of course, if her parents invite me again, but honestly, I'd
rather meet them at a diner.
Remember what Steph said about Parks & Rec, "I don't want it to be over." She didn't want to watch those final episodes, and I feel sorta the same about returning to some of the places around here, where we had our last happy memories.
There's another place, though, where
Stephanie and I left another hoard of happy memories — San Francisco. We met
there, and we fell in love there, and we spent our first few years together in
that city by the bay. That's where Stephanie still had her health, so our only
worries were the ordinary anxieties of money and work and "What will we do
for fun this weekend?" San Francisco was the rainbow's beginning, the
place where we shared a limitless future together. And that's something I need to
see again.
I need to walk across Golden Gate
Bridge, as Steph and I did when everything in the world was optimistic. I need
a cup of coffee at Café International, her favorite place to loiter. I need to sit
in the park across the street from our apartment on Dubose Avenue, as we often
did, just watching people and streetcars go by. And I need to scatter some of Stephanie's
ashes at Ocean Beach, where we had so many picnics in the sand.
Tentatively, if the coronavirus hasn't
killed everyone on Earth, my plan is to visit California for a few weeks this autumn.
Wish I could bring Stephanie with me, but of course, she's with me everywhere,
and she'll be waiting for me there.
I left my heart in San Francisco
High on a hill, it calls to me
To be where little cable cars
climb halfway to the stars
The morning fog may chill the air,
I don't care
My love waits there in San Francisco
Above the blue and windy sea
When I come home to you,
San Francisco
Your golden sun will shine for me
High on a hill, it calls to me
To be where little cable cars
climb halfway to the stars
The morning fog may chill the air,
I don't care
My love waits there in San Francisco
Above the blue and windy sea
When I come home to you,
San Francisco
Your golden sun will shine for me