The Tao of Margot

I think I could have talked Margot in going to the tequila tour but no way in hell she would have done the zip line.

“How cool would it be to soar above the trees?” I would have asked.
“Not interested.”
“But it’s perfectly safe. Here read all about it on-line.”
“I don’t think that’s something I want do to.”
“Don’t you even want to read about it?”
“No.”
“But it’ll be a once-in-a-lifetime experience.”
“Then I think you should go.”
“Errr.”
“Have a great time. Take lots of pictures.”
“Urhm.”

I can’t tell you the number of conversations I had with Margot like this. Wouldn’t it be cool to climb to the top of that ruined tower, yes the one with the sign that says dangerous, do not climb? Wouldn’t it be cool to drive down the gangsta part of the LA barrio in the Miata with the top down? Wouldn’t it be cool to see if I could shoot that apple off your head with this bow (ok, that one I made up but you get the idea.)

Margot would simply not do anything she did not want to do but she would be the sweetest angel about it. Her ‘no’s’ were never nasty or judgemental. She made it sound like you had offered her the nicest piece of cake but she was full but you go ahead and have fun. No way she would have gone on the zip line but she might have gone on the tequila tour.

The one thing Margot loved was learning how things were made. One of her favourite souvenirs was a shot glass from Ireland where we had watched Waterford crystal being made. One of our favourite things was to visit all manner of alcoholic manufacturers, from the Heinekin beer factory to the Glenfiddich distillery in Scotland to a wine museum in Burgundy that showed all aspects of wine making.

To her, there was magic in the creation of things.

Certainly one of our longest running in-jokes came from the cheese factory incident.

While we were driving down in Oregon, we drove past a sign that said, Tillimuk cheese factory 6 miles. “oh look, six miles to the cheese factory,” Margot noted.
“Cool.” We were trying to make good time to the motels along the beach.
Then another sign. “Next turn, Tillimuck cheese factory,” she said.
“Oh yeah, you can see the factory from here.”
“There is it, the cheese factory.”
“Pretty big.”
“A cheeeeeese factory.”
“The cheesiest.”
And on we drove.

Later I found out Margot wanted to go see the cheese factory and I had been, rather typically, clueless. But from then on, it became out cheese-factory-routine. “Look, a herd of mountain goats.” “Cheese factory?” “Nope, just cool.” We didn’t stop. “Look, a great view of Capri.” “Cheese factory?” “For sure.” We stopped.

It was our code. A little thing I miss in a very big way.

How could I go into a factory again without thinking about how Margot would have loved to be there with me?

But this was part of the tour and I thought what the hell?

(picture is of Margot 2008, ready to tour a rum factory in the Caribbean. Man, I miss that smile.)