Some news (💍) and a return to writing
I am very glad to no longer be lying to my (no longer) girlfriend
Hi, happy Monday. A couple things:
Thing #1: We’re engaged!
I proposed to Mariah at the end of August, and — surprisingly enough — the proposal itself wasn’t the biggest secret I had been holding onto. Instead, it was the story of my final conversation with her dad. The very last time I spoke to Brad was when I asked for his blessing to marry his daughter.
I told him my whole plan: we would go on a run through our old neighborhood in LA, and I would propose on the steps of the first home we had created together. Brad loved it. No fuss, no phones, and more than a little sweaty. He said it was “so you guys”, by which he really meant, “nice, that sounds like something I would do.” (He proposed to Mariah’s mom while her hand was stuffed inside a turkey.)
Brad was so, so happy the last time I saw him. The beaming smile on his face will be my lasting memory of him. Only 10 days after giving me the go ahead, Brad passed away. And for those six weeks between his passing and my proposal, I harbored these two secrets from Mariah: one was the big question, and the other was the story of how I wrapped up my relationship with her dad.
I decided to stick to the plan I had told Brad. To a tee, the exact day, time, and place I told him I would do it — I did it. I realized that making this promise to Mariah meant keeping that promise I made to Brad.
The whole situation is poetic and profound and inexplicable in so many ways — and in a time of such grief, getting to tell Mariah that story was such a boost.
M & I wrote a little post about it on the Fridays with Brad newsletter. You can read it here!
Thing #2: It has felt weird to post here since Brad died.
A few months ago, I shared something I had written while on vacation in Kenya. On that trip, I wrote a whole series of little observations, and I had planned on posting them all in quick succession after I got home. But I haven’t published anything other than that first piece yet, because Brad passed away and I suddenly thought very little about my newsletter.
The last few weeks, I’ve had a little voice in my head. “Man, what are you waiting for?” So I guess the time is right. Thanks for the nudge, Brad 🖤
Here’s the second piece from Kenya, this one about tourist hordes and natural splendor, existing together in what some may call harmony.
~~
I have complicated feelings about my fancy safari
tl;dr it was incredible and at times also felt somewhat like disneyland
22 June 2024 – Lake Nakuru, Kenya
The evening ended with a leopard.
A family of hippos preceded, and a group of rhinos before that. Thomas, our driver and guide, has good instinct. Where other drivers flock, he assesses. He’s gotten a sense of what’s interesting to us in only a short time.
That hippo family drew a crowd, but only for a time. Thomas remained long after the crowd dispersed. We got to watch the hippos make their way across a small part of the lake, their glistening backs moving quickly through the water with a liveliness displayed only when the day is waning. The rest of the day, when the sun is high, the hippos hide under the surface, lying in wait until dusk or dawn, when at last they emerge from the shallows.
We watched at dusk. The hippos’ traverse though the water was a special little sight, subtle and too far away for good photos. Thomas had the patience to let us sit in the silence of that moment long after the crowd had gone.
Then came a call over the radio. The noise is constant on our drives. Static, crackling, beeping. Some English, mostly Swahili. Occasionally, drivers whistle at each other. There’s a lot of laughter. I understand almost nothing of what comes through, but I know excitement when I hear it.
“Let’s go,” Thomas said. A three-point turn, and we were off — back the way we came, but traveling much, much faster this time.
M and I looked at each other. He must be onto something. The Land Cruiser pummeled the road. We gripped our seats as the safari tank kicked up dust.
It took only a minute to reach the crowd (word travels quickly over the airwaves). It was only our third game drive, but it didn’t take an expert to understand that whatever everyone was looking at was special.
“A leopard has been spotted.”
Thomas jockeyed for a place among the dozens of 4x4s grouped on either side of a fork in the road. A small meadow filled the gap between the fork, all eyes pointed in that direction — most searching, some trained.
Thomas, of course, clocked it first. He handed me the binoculars, pointed in the direction of a tree stump. Just in there, he said, and you will see it.
I did not, in fact, see it. As an explorer, it turns out, I’m big in ambition and modest in talent. After 60 seconds of excruciating impotence, the swish of a tail tipped me off. There it was, the big cat.
The stump was jagged. Its edges and angles were rough, as though the crown of the tree had snapped off with the violence of a lightning strike. To me, the stump resembled anything but a great place to lounge. But I am not a leopard.
The spotted fellow crooked itself into the innards of the stump, a listless paw and a limp tail dangling next to a side-cocked head featuring eyes I would not wish to meet. I snapped a few photos, then looked around me.
(^this is what I saw)
A throng of tourists, eyes wide, mouths agape, looking dumbly at this apex predator doing its best to get some rest. No peace for a large cat this evening.
I understand the importance of the tourism industry and the impact that the money from the slack-jawed crowds has on conservation efforts. Nevertheless, I felt silly in that moment… and I felt awe.
Both things were true: I was one of the foaming mouths, at once deeply embarrassed and bursting with gratitude. I’ll be thinking about that leopard for a long time to come.
~~~
Watch this 👀
These videos are brief, but they offer such an interesting snapshot of what it feels like to move through Lake Nakuru: