Please, Do What Makes You Feel Most Alive
Crow’s Feet prompt #35: traveling when older
The Kid & The Scene
I took this photo out of desperation as the Southwest Airlines 737 from St. Louis descended toward the Kansas City International Airport. It was too low to parachute and too high to jump, even if I was 23 instead of 73.
A three-year-old kid one seat away had been screaming for 42 minutes. Nonstop. Unlike our return itinerary from Washington, DC, with one stop. Blonde-haired Johnny didn’t want his warden-mom to put away his tray table even though he spilled water on his IPad. Despite his mom's desperate attempts, the toddler tablet hadn’t distracted the little guy.
Which is what I needed on the long descent. Distraction. So I opened the porthole sleeve to the photo’s wondrous scene.
It was so full of life that it reminded me why I travel, despite The Kid and other challenges.
The Means
Rebecca and I had been in Washington, D.C., and Stafford, Virginia, for three days to attend her son-in-law Jason’s Marine retirement. Getting from our home in southwest Iowa to D.C. and back required these modes of travel: car, airport parking shuttle, Boeing 737, D.C.Metro shuttle, Metro, Amtrak, and rental car.
My partner reluctantly permitted me to show you the photo below. We just arrived back at the Kansas City airport. Rebecca is wearing a wool sweater because the D.C. and St. Louis airports and the 737 were so cold. It is now too warm. She looks tired because she is tired. We are waiting for a shuttle to take us to our car, and then we will drive two hours back to Clarinda, Iowa, where we live. We arrived home around 10 pm. But not before dodging three deer along our journey's two-lane 40-mile last leg.
The Packs
Do you see her big red backpack? I have its black twin on my back as I take this picture. We can still lift these suckers into the overhead bins, but it's getting more challenging. I get mine to the edge and then push it forward. However, we would have arrived 20 minutes later if we had checked our bags. And without our luggage, as lost bag rates have doubled post-COVID.
You may have seen this photo if you are a faithful reader of my stories. It was taken in 2018 by a passerby in Pisa, Italy. The packs still weigh the same, but we are five years older.
Those five years matter. I suspect the next five years will matter more. Will travel still be worth it? Below are three insightful stories that realistically tackle whether to continue doing challenging things as we age. But we all have our own stories. That’s the essence of my title.
The Why
Rebecca and I have been roadies for 12 years. We met online, and you can read that story here. Rebecca has a home in Clarinda, Iowa, 323 miles from my home in Decorah. We now have friends in each community and escape houses.
By mutual agreement, we typically spend three weeks each month in Decorah and one week in Clarinda, with four or five days of alone time worked into the routine. I will write a story soon about our independence pact. But our regular domestic travel habit has made packing as much a part of our life as shopping for groceries. Of course, fresh produce and spices often are part of the supplies we carry back and forth.
It has been 48 hours since we returned to Clarinda from D.C. We are both still tired. Thankfully, no COVID, yet. There were crowds everywhere, including Rebecca’s family. In the photo below, retired Colonel Richard J. Schmidt was in the middle, and Rebecca and I were on the right. Before the retirement festivities, Rebecca and I toured the United States Holocaust Museum: no answers but questions and sorrow.
Today we will load the car and head back to Decorah. The journey will take five hours and forty-five minutes over mostly county roads. We decided this year to stay off Interstates — one concession to our aging reflexes. Other adjustments are sure to follow, including choosing a permanent residence.
There will always be people, places, and things outside our neighborhoods to see and experience. This is our travel why. There will always be external obstacles, like The Kid, and, increasingly, internal ones, such as our fatigue. One day the obstacles will triumph, leaving us only photos and memories of wondrous scenes.
Until then, travel connects us to a bigger world and helps us feel more alive.
But I’ve got to end the story here.
We’re on the road again.
