Anticipation — Sometimes it’s worth the wait
There’s a Carly Simon song called “Anticipation.” Years ago Madison Avenue used the tune to market a popular brand of ketchup. The song plays while images depicting the frustrating wait for a rich condiment to emerge, lava-like, from a bottle.
It may be a universal truth that we humans dislike anticipation.
This past week I suffered through a major bout of uncomfortable anticipation. My brother in music and life, David Johnson, took a trip with his wife Susan to a remote mountain retreat in West Virginia. The place was so removed that internet and phone service was nonexistent.
I talk to David every other night. Ours is a decades-long friendship. I was the best man in his wedding, and he was the best man in mine. He is the godfather to my son.
I somehow forgot the actual calendar plans of his trip north, and I made my usual evening call. I encountered his familiar voice message, and knew that he would call back pretty quickly after finding a moment. The night passed and I mentioned to my more than wise wife that my friend had not called back.
“I bet they are on that trip to West Virginia,” she replied.
I thought, well, he will call in the morning. A night of anticipation gently passed.
I waited for a decent window of opportunity to call again the next morning.
Again I was greeted with the familiar voice mail. My anticipation meter rose. I texted. He always texts back within moments. I called his wife. Voice mail.
I texted her. No response. By the end of the day, my anticipation level was reaching DEFCON 3.
“You know they may be in a mountain hollow in West Virginia with no internet,” said my wife.
I responded, “It’s 2020. Internet is everywhere.”
I spent the third day in a funk. Were they wrecked in a canyon off some north Georgia two-lane? Had a manure truck upended them? Anticipation.
The phone rang early on the fourth day. A deep baritone voice said, “Hey.” I replied, “I thought you moved.”
David laughed and said that they were way off the communications grid, and that with them were several high profile West Virginia business folks who were very frustrated about the lack of 21st century communications. “But the food was terrific,” said David. Anticipation.
A week earlier the text bell went off very early.
A certain young couple, let’s call them my children, were on the way to the hospital to deliver Mr. Henry Michael Thompson. The notice of the impending arrival of our first grandchild pleasantly jolted us.
All through the morning the miracle of text messages and phone cameras kept us apprised of the new mom’s condition. With each “ping” we would receive pictures of the glowing mom (with her mask on) sitting in the maternity bed. We could not be there due to quarantine world, but it was the next best thing. Then nothing. No text. No pics. No calls. Anticipation.
I began to pace. Remember those old cartoons of expectant fathers pacing outside the maternity ward, usually puffing frantically on a cigarette? Well, gentle readers, that was me, sans tobacco.
My wife is like the Rock of Gibraltar, yet I could see her eyes were wide open with anticipatory stress. Outwardly she remained calm, unlike me. I knew she was worried as one hour morphed into two.
I had an old chair that had met the end of its days out in the carport, and I went out and took my stress to bear on the creaky relic. I made short work of the demolition.
My heart was not into the task but my body appreciated the activity.
Anticipation. More pacing.
Ah, a text “ping” came through. It was David and Susan Johnson.
“Have you heard anything?” queried David. “Not yet,” I hastily replied.
I thought I was going to explode. My imagination ran wild as I pondered things that should not be pondered. My baby girl and her magnificent husband were 11 hours away, and all I could offer were loving sentiments and sweaty pacing.
Another hour went by and we were at Anticipation DEFCON 1000.
We both leapt at the phone as we heard the “ping.”
A new human being had just made his entrance on planet Earth.
Blood pressure back down, we poured champagne and toasted our first grandchild. We gave thanks for the health and safety of all concerned.
Anticipation.
Sometimes it’s worth the wait.