If you wish to travel fast and far, travel light. Take off your envies, jealousies, unforgiveness, selfishness and fear.
Cesare Pave
We leaving for the south of France on Saturday. I’m packing in my head, checking the weather (upper 70’s and 50% chance of rain), and buying last minute items at Walmart. I always dreamed of living in France when I was a teenager after I heard Judy Collins sing “My father always promised us that we would live in France. We’d go boating on the Seine and I would learn to dance.”
My father never made any such promise. He ran a dairy farm which meant cows had to be milked morning and night. Any traveling we did was between 8 am and 5 pm, which limited the distance we could cover. The only overnight trip we took was to Milwaukee when my Uncle Ed died.
When my cousins from Alabama came up north, we all went to Wisconsin Dells. Their vacation became our vacation in a day trip to see the Upper Dells on a boat. I remember the double decker cruiser stopping at certain points to let us walk for a close-up view of the rock formations. We squeezed through a narrow formation called Fat Man’s Misery as we followed our guide down the path. The highlight was the Standing Rock Ceremony where we watched a dog leap from a cliff high above us to a small rock pillar that jutted out. We craned our necks to watch the daring dog jump over an abyss to the rock and back to the trainer. My mom reminisced when a Native American would jump instead of the pooch. We’d stop somewhere for lunch—usually a hamburger and a chocolate malt– and then back home in time for milking.
Any break from the routine of work was a vacation for the soul.
Occasionally we left Wisconsin to visit my Aunt Hazel and Uncle Orrin in Rockford, Illinois. Dad would milk the cows extra early so we could get a head start on the day. Aunt Hazel would prepare dinner, ham or roast beef, and the adults would talk. I’d read the Chicago Tribune Sunday Comics. I loved Dick Tracey and Brenda Starr, Girl Reporter. Then I’d try to play with their cranky overweight cocker spaniel, Honey. This never ended well. Honey would nip at me and growl. My uncle would say, “She’s not used to kids, Give her some time to warm up to you.” I could have hit puberty before that churlish cur would tolerate a touch. Good thing I usually brought a book along to read until it was time to go. Honey never acted friendly, but she did give me the idea for a fictional dog named Gaston.
The first trip I ever took farther than Illinois was to Colorado with a college friend the summer after I graduated. Shar was moving to Boulder. We drove out there in a car she was delivering from Chicago to Denver. I saw the Rocky Mountains for the first time. They were a bit taller than the bluffs at Wisconsin Dells. John Denver was popular back then, so Rocky Mountain High stuck in my brain. I flew back to Milwaukee for the first time. I was terrified, but since I didn’t die in a crash, I was game to fly again.
Luckily, I met a man whose dad worked for Northwest Airlines and had flown stand by on his father’s ‘family members fly free’ perk. We discovered we both yearned to travel. Unfortunately being poor college students, our first trips were by car. We didn’t have time for a honeymoon since we got married August 31st, a Saturday, and our new jobs started Tuesday, September 3rd. We drove later that year to Canada; Niagara Falls, Toronto and Montreal. People spoke French, there so it was almost like going to France.
Now we are actually going to France. We’re going floating on the Rhone, not the Seine, and my learning to dance days are long gone. I’ve learned it’s not necessarily where you go, but who you travel with. I’m lucky to have Michael Detrie as my companion on the journey of life. France is just a small part of it.
My possible travel outfits are laid out on the spare room bed. Michael will bring up the carry- ons. I’m negotiating bringing a checked bag, so I can pack a few extra shoes. I start with four-five pairs of pants and shorts since we’re gone ten days. Add a half dozen tops, a cardigan, a zip up hoodie and of course, a rain coat. Coordinating jewelry is a must, and one dress, just in case. The cat likes to crawl in the suitcase, like she’s ready to join us. So we have to be careful she’s not a stow-away.
At seventy-five years of age, I know this truth. We travel not to escape life, but for life not to escape us. How many years do we have left to travel? Michael wagers maybe five. So we are planning on making the most of every second on the journey.
By the time you read this, I will have gone to France and returned. I carry a travel journal along on each trip and I write a little synopsis of the day and sometimes some bigger reflections. I am always amazed at the beauty and wonder of the world that God created. I feel His presence in the big things, like mountains and volcanoes and waterfalls. And especially in the little things, the single flower boldly rising from a crack in the rocks in Papago Park. A cat sunning itself in the arched window of a Greek ruin. A toddler splashing in a puddle beside an ancient Roman fortress in Dubrovnik. I am humbled by the tiny place I occupy in the world and grateful that I can experience God’s grandeur both large and small.
Janice Detrie 