From the Editor-In-Chief
From the archives. With the Sophisticated Living polo team at our 2019 event at Oxmoor Farm. Photo by Tony Bailey
One of the first things I do each morning is to input the day's date into the search box on my phone's photo album to see what I'd been up to on the same day over the years. Like going through a longshuttered house and pulling back the musty drapes in light-starved rooms, the exercise illuminates the dark corners of my brain, bringing to life the people and places that comprise moments both mundane and meteoric. Sometimes the light has a melancholier cast when the search results come back with smiling faces of those who are no longer with us or no longer a part of my life in the way they once were. Still, they are indelible parts of my existence, and I relish the pleasure this daily exercise brings. It helps me start each day with a smile and a grateful heart. With the abundant exception of new puppy pics, I didn't take many photographs from the middle of March through most of July of this year. There were a few opportunities, but I largely chose not to, which makes me wonder if my subconscious wanted to block out what has been such a trying time for all of us, or if taking photographs just seemed too celebratory for these serious times. Should I continue my morning ritual in the ensuing years, the void of images from the bulk of 2020 will speak volumes about the era. As I sat down to write my travel story on an island-based trip to the GalĂĄpagos Islands with Classic Journeys, I pulled up my photos from the trip, which commenced nine days before COVID-19 was officially deemed a global pandemic. As we deplaned in Ecuador, there were temperature checks and offers of hand sanitizer everywhere we went. Our group, all seasoned travel writers, were quick to dismiss the notion that the gathering storm clouds created by the virus were about to release a torrent the likes of which we'd never seen. Weeks after we safely returned home, one of my travel mates mused that our group was akin to the last ticketholders to an amusement park before it went up in flames. On July 25, more than four months after my trip to Ecuador, I boarded a plane for Aruba, one of just 28 countries admitting American tourists. It was a trip booked at the end of 2019, and one I considered canceling many times. Nervously watching as the list of places I could travel outside the United States continued to dwindle, Aruba put in place several requirements and safeguards for when they reopened to visitors on July 10. Feeling confident I could be diligent and stay safe, I decided to continue with the itinerary, despite the hoops required to get there. As a travel writer and publisher, I understand the importance of my role in supporting tourism, which is vital to the health of economies around the globe. I believe that experiencing first-hand and reporting back on what it is like to be a tourist in the current era can be a crucial step to jump-starting a crippled industry. While I'll tell the full story in the November/December issue, what I can say is that the "One Happy Island" went to extraordinary lengths to ensure guests and workers' safety without sacrificing one iota of hospitality. I left Aruba feeling hopeful that we can adapt to a new normal by making a few adjustments and graciously bearing some inconveniences that will get us back to doing the things we love more quickly, which for me includes adding to my photo album.
Bridget Williams, Editor-In-Chief
bridget@slmag.net P.S. I am excited to announce that in lieu of the party pics that typically fill the back of each issue, we’ve chosen to highlight several non-profit organizations. While so many charitable events have been cancelled, their needs have not, and in many cases have grown during this time. Our hope is that these vignettes will serve as both a call to action and a celebration of the important work these organizations carry out on a daily basis. If you have a charity you’d like to see highlighted, please send me an email at bridget@slmag.net. 20 slmag.net
