How My Parents Encourage My Travel Dreams

Since today is Mother’s Day, I wanted to write about something topical. But in my family, something funny happens every 5-6 years – Mother’s Day falls on May 13, which is also my dad’s birthday. So the day feels a little extra special.

We’re spending this extra-special day going to brunch and playing a family baseball game at a nearby field. All four of us girls are showering our parents with the love they hopefully feel from us every day. And tomorrow I’ll wake up at 3 a.m. for another too-early flight for another week in Indiana. As I think about what my life looks like now, it’s impossible to separate it from the upbringing I’ve had. My parents have been indispensable to my travel dreams and experiences thus far.

First of all… my dad.

The first road trip I can remember was to South Dakota, over Memorial Day weekend when I was in kindergarten. We saw all the good stuff – Mount Rushmore, the Badlands, Custer State Park, Crazy Horse, etc. And every summer for all of the years until college, we took road trips, at least two weeks long. As me and my sister(s) would step into the car before pulling out of the driveway, we’d find a small spiral notebook in each of our seats. These were from Dad – for us to write, draw, play games, or keep tallies of the number of Mini Coopers we saw on the trip.

Tucked into the notebook was a blank map of the U.S., printed on cardstock, for us to color with the bucket of colored pencils that were never left behind. And we’d also mark off each of the state license plates we saw during the trip. To this day, I attribute my ability to identify different license plates at great distances to this game we’d play. It doesn’t count if someone else sees it while you’re asleep!

On Dad’s road trips, I was able to visit 48 states by car by the time I graduated from college. I’d visited 17 National Parks and countless National Monuments and Forests. The things I learned about in school during history classes came alive as we visited the estates of former presidents, log cabins and Native American settlements, and somber Civil War battlegrounds.

We’d battle giant snow mosquitoes in the Pacific Northwest, witness our old green minivan self-destructing in the hills at Mesa Verde, and deal with the occasional carsickness (it was never me, I swear). We’d camp under some of the darkest skies in the world and look for shooting stars. We’d laugh until we cried at the things that would eventually become long-running inside jokes for our family.

And only as I got older was I really able to appreciate all the opportunities Dad gave me to experience this country. I didn’t realize at the time that not everyone was able to take a two-week long vacation with their family, for whatever reason. I have to admit that I feel a bit guilty when I look at the pictures from the first time we went to the Grand Canyon – 13-year-old me can’t find it in her to smile. I’ll blame the teen angst and the blazing heat.

But Dad’s love for travel inspired mine, I think. Though I often travel outside the country now, I have so much love and appreciation for every corner of the U.S. because of him. For doing things my own way, on my own schedule. And the competitive streak I inherited from him encouraged me to plan my own trip to Alaska last summer – I wanted to be the first in the family to get 49 states.

But I wish I could go back and relive every single family vacation again. They’re some of my best, most treasured memories. Thank you, Dad.

Now, my mom.

Mom didn’t grow up taking family road trips like Dad did, but now she’s also extremely well-traveled within the U.S. And though she’s never been out of the country, these days she’s dreaming of visiting Gaia in Italy.

When I was 18, she allowed me to fly to Germany alone to visit my boyfriend at the time, Moritz. That had to be really hard for her, but she let me do it anyway. And she allowed me to visit him time and time again. While studying abroad was never on her radar when she was in college, she fully supported me in my plan to do so.

During the second semester of my senior year, I received a job offer from the company where I work now. This job would require 80-100% travel, and I was unable to decide whether I should take it because I wasn’t sure this was the field I wanted to work in. “You can do anything for a year,” Mom told me when I called her, panicking. “The travel will be fun. Did you know I used to travel for work when I was your age?” No, I didn’t…

“Maybe they’ll fly you out to San Francisco, and they’ll take you out to dinner at Fisherman’s Wharf,” she continued. I dried my tears and thought about San Francisco. I took the job.

Though it ended up being a whole lot more Indiana than San Francisco (sigh), I did spend several continuous months in Utah. Mom and I met up in SF for the weekend, almost a year to the date we’d talked on the phone about it. And over the past couple of years, we’ve been able to share a few special trips together, just the two of us.

When I started traveling totally alone, Mom was wary. But I’ve now taken three significant solo trips – to Spain, Thailand/Cambodia, and Mexico City – and I’m hoping it gets a little easier each time. She may not like it, but she knows she can trust me. She may give me an impromptu self-defense lesson in the living room, and we all laugh about it, but I try to understand.

I appreciate her for never telling me “no.” I tell her my crazy dreams and she listens, knowing full well I plan to carry those dreams out. She doesn’t try to stop me or scare me. I know I’m 25 years old and can make my own decisions, but having her (cautious) support means a lot. I hope she knows that too. Thank you, Mom.

And as she watches me travel far and wide, she sees a whole new world opened up to her. Here’s hoping there’s a Eurotrip in our near future.

Happy birthday, Dad & Happy Mother’s Day, Mom!

 

-Cathy

Originally Published on May 13, 2018.