5 April 2021 – Today was all about how we often find ourselves in a box. I went on a History of Savannah Food Tour/Pub Crawl through the Historic District in Savannah, GA. I had never done anything like this before, especially with 9 strangers and no wingman. All nine were younger than me, ages about 27 to 47. There were a few teachers on spring break, a lawyer, a designer, a self-described warehouse worker, a luxury hotel concierge and a chef. They were from Minneapolis, Richmond, Gainesville (GA), Cherry Hill (NJ), and Baltimore. Everyone was paired up except me and Jack from Baltimore. The group was amiable and much more outgoing than me, which worked in my favor since I don’t always feel comfortable in these situations.

First, the food was great. We visited six different Savannah restaurants/breweries/pubs and sampled the local fare. All in all, the food was great, and the company was good. You can read about it on My Travel page. But that’s not what this post is about. This post is about the boxes we find ourselves in.

As I met these people, the first thing I did was categorize them. Okay, I might as well say I judged them because it really is what I did. I decided who to sit next to, whether or not to sit down first or last, because they might not want to sit next to me. I tried to pick the friendliest faces first and hope they were actually nice. So basically, I put everyone in their own box, or so I thought. With everyone in a box, they were closed up and safe, and I was in control.

These boxes were see-through so that I could keep an eye on the contents. The boxes were not soundproof because I needed to hear everything. I had to basically eavesdrop on conversations, not because I was nosy but because I needed to know everything about each box’s contents before I could open it. The best thing about these boxes is that only I could open them. As the tour went on, I realized that I had no control of the boxes’ contents. They each eventually opened by themselves. My only control was in how I responded when they did. I survived though, not one of the boxes exploded, and none of the contents caused me any harm. As a matter of fact, I enjoyed the contents and had a great time. Who would’ve thought? Why do I always create these boxes for everything in my life? Why am I afraid to live?

After the tour was over and the group was saying their goodbyes. I sat and finished my drink. Despite Savannah’s open-carry ordinance for alcohol, my feet needed to rest as I wished I had worn different shoes. Jack from Baltimore also sat to finish his drink and wait for his Uber. As we sat, he started asking me questions about things he had heard me say throughout the day – he had finally come out of his box, too, or had I let him out?. Our conversation was easy since we had both overheard the other talking during the tour, and we had topics for conversation. Jack from Baltimore told me about how he had grown up Mormon, gone to BYU and came out as gay. He told how he had lived in Utah for ten years, been married and divorced, and then decided to become a teacher. Jack from Baltimore continued to tell me about his boyfriend and his dog, and his hopes and fears. He asked about my life, my travels, my hopes and dreams. He said, “Isn’t it interesting how we put ourselves in boxes.” I didn’t even have to think about it. I answered immediately, “Yes, Jack from Baltimore, it is.”

Today, I thought I had put all of these other people in boxes so that I had control. I’ve been doing it as long as I can remember! Thanks to Jack from Baltimore, I finally realized that in reality I always put myself in a box. By putting myself in a box, I think I am in control and safe from the world around me; however, I am just making myself small. Jack from Baltimore told me about how he has put himself in boxes throughout life. He thought he was gay before college, so he chose BYU as a last-ditch effort “to make himself” not gay. He was afraid to be himself, so he put himself in a box and shipped himself to Utah. Not long after he got to BYU, he came out of his box. But, he didn’t open the box; he destroyed it. The world did not collapse around him , and he survived.

Jack from Baltimore then told me about another box he put himself in. He grew up thinking that travel was only for the wealthy. As a teacher, he would never be able to afford to travel, so, he decided he would just live in his little box in Baltimore. Jack from Baltimore’s boyfriend convince him that he could travel and he could travel worldwide. So, he gave it a chance and shipped his box. Once they arrived in Spain, he opened the box and hasn’t looked back. When they later traveled to Thailand, the box didn’t even come along. Instead the box was repurposed as a suitcase. Now, Jack from Baltimore is on his first solo vacation. He admits that he brought the box just in case, but he hasn’t needed it yet. As we parted, I told him to enjoy the rest of his trip. Jack from Baltimore said, “Ditch the boxes, Lady! Boxes are clunky and You only have one short life.”

Why do I continue to put myself in a box and make myself small and, hopefully, invisible? Why do I use extra heavy-duty tape and mark the box in big letters with “FRAGILE.” Why indeed. I found out today that these boxes can be opened, stomped on, and destroyed. It just requires self-worth and some bravery. As I continue on my journey, I hope to ditch the duct tape and maybe even the box. Thank you, Jack from Baltimore, for the life lesson today. I need to be more like Jack and POP out of that box.