Cultures

Cultures

December 31, 2044

Patrick couldn’t believe his good fortune. Here it was New Year’s Eve and he had finally done it. After 25 long years, it was his. All his. He looked around the hall and smiled. The sounds of celebration finding his ears, filling his heart.

The Beginning of the End

Patrick sat on the ragged couch in his small apartment looking at the closest thing to a park Hudson had to offer - the landfill. He reflected on the past year on this last day of 2020. To say that 2020 was a strange year was an understatement. To say it was the worst year only implied there wasn’t more crap to come. He decided that 2020 was a dead year. Everything just sort of died. Perhaps not in the literal sense, but definitely in the figurative sense.

Patrick was a trained chef, traveler, and loved adventure. Boring, he was not. He opened his first small bistro, Cultures, in February. A small place where he could indulge his creative culinary streak. It took over a year from thought to fruition. He built his idea, got the financing, located the perfect spot, obtained licenses, hired staff, found the décor, and created the menu. Cultures was a place that embraced foods from around the world. Each week featured a global special, foods from different cultures. It was comfort food from around the world. The regular menu included a few staples of comfort food from various places for the less adventurous.

His grand opening was met with a dazzling crowd and even better reviews. His Valentine’s from Around the World dining experience was sold out.  It was the best month of his life so far. Then March came.

March came in like a lion and went out like a 10-megaton explosion. A virus, some flu or something in China was making people sick. These reports were just a blip to Patrick, as his focus was on his dream coming true. In a few weeks he was forced to pay attention. More reports of people dying, flights to and from China cancelled, travel restricted, panic rising, forecasts of what was to come.

Seemingly as everything was coming together, everything fell apart. Patronage was down, then out as the local Government decided everything had to close. Close. With the stroke of a pen and a statement to the press, virtually everything was closed. You could go to grocery stores and gas stations but not much else. Quarantines were in place so people entering the city had to wait 14 days to ensure they were not sick. The government saw to everything to protect people from themselves, to keep them safe.

By the end of June Patrick had let the staff go. He tried to keep his dream afloat by improvising. He designed a carry out menu and posted in on social media and the website. He had some business, but not much. People were scared. The fear fueled by nightly reports and terrifying maps showing the worst hit countries, and in the US the worst hit states. The statisticians spewed forth numbers down to counties, cities, towns, even ZIP codes reflecting positive cases and deaths. As such, people stopped calling in, coming by, eating out, living. They stayed at home desperate to remain safe.

And that is how Cultures died, with a whimper that no one heard. During July Patrick tried to sell some of the equipment from the restaurant, but to no avail. All the local restaurants were either slow or closed and no one was expanding. He had paid what bills he could with the small amount of income generated from the meager sales.

His disappointment was palatable. He knew he had the right recipe for the neighborhood. He knew he could have pulled this off. And he was doing it! It was right there, in his grasp. And then gone. He was unable to pay the rent on the storefront. He called the management company and informed them he no longer needed the space. He had personally contacted each member of his staff to express his regret and to try to give them hope for the future. As for his loans, well ... Patrick did let the Colonial National Bank that he was unable to make any additional payments on his $200K loan and he had no assets left. Amazingly the bank said they understood, but there wasn’t much they could do.

Patrick’s mood didn’t improve even after the Mayor said no evictions would be made and no small business would be forced to file bankruptcy due to the pandemic. Funds would be made available in early September to help small businesses, one just had to apply. The federal government had already made funds available for struggling businesses, extended and added unemployment benefits, and tried their best to keep people afloat during this time. The mayor purported to be aware of the difficulties people in the city were experiencing. He made statements at least weekly trying to keep spirits high.

But all the government support in the Country would not help Patrick.

He applied for assistance from both the Federal and local sources and received nothing. The money was gone as fast as it was promised. His dream died. The words of encouragement fell on deaf ears and an empty heart. He gave up his loft, conveniently located above Cultures, when he closed the business. He found a place in Hudson, grimy as it was, it was a roof over his head.

Patrick managed to keep his hovel by the landfill by working at fast food places. He didn’t earn much, but he was working. The bank wasn’t actively pursuing him over the $200K, although they made it clear the forbearance was temporary. His employees, previous employees, in many cases were doing better than he. They had unemployment and the additional amount the Feds mandated. He was glad they were taken care of.

On a bleak November day Patrick reflected on his situation. He sighed when he realized he wasn’t too far from when he graduated high school and entered Culinary School. But he was worlds away from his time during and after Culinary School. It was during his travels through Europe, Asia, and Africa where he found the culinary delights that permanently imprinted his being. Such good times and exciting experiences those times gave him. He learned so much from his travels abroad. Now all he had were those memories and a few mementos. He looked for the lesson his current experience would garner for him as he gazed at the landfill.

There was a brief respite from all the doom and gloom as it appeared things were looking up. Illnesses and deaths had flattened out, businesses were invited to reopen, people were sticking a tentative toe into the water, as it were. Patrick felt a renewed hope. He may be down but he wasn’t out! During Thanksgiving, he watched as people enjoyed the holiday and marveled at the respite that seemed to be theirs. People were decorating for Christmas and sending greeting cards to friends and families. It seemed things were finally getting back on track. Yes, he could do this. He was never a quitter, he was tenacious, and he was never afraid to extract a pound of flesh now and then. He smiled at the thought of Cultures, his loft, his staff, and customers. He basked in the glow of his previous success.

It is amazing how fast things can change. Even as Patrick was planning his re-entry into restaurant ownership, other events were unfolding. As if on cue, illness and deaths spiked. Setting fear and panic at an all-time high. Once again, the Mayor shut down everything in order to staunch the flow of the disease all had come to hate. Even his meager job flipping burgers had now come to an end, leaving him only his work as a cleaner. It seemed that Christmas, a supposed time of joy, was actually the time to grind down all that fruitless hope to which people clung.  

Colonial National, true to their word, had not forgotten about his loan. Along with a free calendar, he received request for payment. It seemed the Federal Government felt things were progressing OK, even if the numbers the statisticians churned out showed increases for both deaths and new cases.

On that lonely New Year’s Eve, Patrick vowed to make things better. One way or another he would eradicate the obstacles that life threw at him. He resolved to help all who were trying their damnedest to make a dream come true.  Patrick was moved by the spirit, by his spirits: Italian Sambuca, Greek Ouzo, Tunisian Boukha, Norwegian Akvavit, and Chinese Baijiu. As he sipped the remnants from his travels abroad, he laid his dream to rest, burying it with all that died during 2020, the dead year. Yes, the passing of 2020 was quite funereal and spurned by his cultural wake.  

January 1, 2045

Patrick woke up quite early for having had such revelry the night before. It was a gloriously warm and sunny day. He threw open the French doors and walked out on the balcony. The beautiful turquoise of the Caribbean Sea gently lapped the sugar sand beaches. He inhaled the tropical breeze and smiled.

How could he have known that 25 years ago as he mourned his losses and soothed his pained soul with the flavors of the world, distilled down to the essence of each botanical, that he would be here today. The people he met and talked to while cleaning and sanitizing a lab was the start of things to come.   How could he have known it would be a combination of some of those same botanicals and some eager opened minded people would change his life. And yours, thanks to BioMed Holistics. The medicines all derived from the biodiversity of the earth, all natural, and most importantly sustainable. Yes Patrick, the force behind BioMed, focused on working with nature instead of trying to overpower her. That focus resulted in Norus an all-natural medicine that stopped viruses from reproducing. It took him 25 years, but he had made life better. His resolution complete.