I was very excited the other day when I rediscovered a misplaced treasure.
This year, we packed up and moved out of our home of 32 years. Even though we moved into our new house several months ago, there are still some boxes that I haven’t opened or gone through yet. When I cleaned out my mom’s house a few years ago, I held onto some things that I wanted to spend more time with. Now, those boxes and containers sit in my new house, too. I don’t even know what some of the boxes hold, and I don’t know when I will actually start looking at them.
Amid all this, I’ve been wondering about one precious item that I had uncovered at my mom’s house five, or so, years ago. It went AWOL. I knew it should be somewhere, but I wasn’t sure where I might have stashed it. Was it in one of those unopened boxes, mine or hers? Was it tucked away somewhere in a closet in our new house? Was it in a drawer, or hidden in a Rubbermaid bin? I’ve been dismayed that I haven’t been able to figure out what happened to it or where it went.
Until now!! I stumbled upon it this week, in the back of a filing cabinet. With glee I danced around and high-fived the air over and over again. I had rediscovered a priceless treasure. Irreplaceable, it was.
When I was a kid, my family did a lot of camping. Most of our camping trips were regional excursions, to the mountains and rivers of South Carolina, North Carolina, Georgia, or Tennessee. With the exception of two Epic Trips, when we lugged our family camper and all our gear across the country.
Epic Trip #1
In 1967 we drove our camper to Montreal, Quebec, for Expo 67, the World’s Fair. In those days, the World’s Fair was a very big deal. With pavilions showcasing 62 nations, the World's Fair was many people’s first exposure to other cultures and to progressive plans for the world of tomorrow. Canada’s World's Fair was a huge, impressive spectacle of achievement. It was quite the event, and people from all over the world flocked there to experience it. I was a little kid, but I remember bits and pieces of that grand adventure. Sorry, but I can't put my hands on pics from that trip right now.
We camped near the St. Lawrence Seaway, and every day we watched enormous ships move through the narrow passes to continue their journey up or down river. We waved at the sailors, and they waved back at us. We memorized the "No Smoking" French language signs, and repeatedly told my dad, “Defénse de Fumer.” (He was a heavy smoker.) On the grounds of the World’s Fair, we delighted in imaginative exhibits, interesting foods, and exciting rides. My whole family enjoyed that splendid adventure very much.
Rob says that his family also attended the World’s Fair in Montreal that summer. We joke that we might have seen each other there when we were small tykes.
Epic Trip #2
In 1971, my family (mom, dad, sister, and I) went all Griswold and drove cross-country from South Carolina to California. A seven-week excursion driving our woody station wagon and pulling our pop-up camper. I captured all the action by writing in a journal along the way.
My Out West Trip journal is the precious treasure that I just found.
I wasn’t ever much for writing diaries or journals. My mom always tried to get my sister and I to write our thoughts, record our comings and goings, journal, scrapbook, save memorabilia. We were too busy living our lives to worry about writing about our lives. (Flash forward to 2026, when I write about my life all the time, haha.) On that extended Out West camping journey, our mom insisted that my sister and I sit down each night and capture the essence of the day.
THANK YOU, MOM!!
Now, decades later, I have a record of our travel activities. I have written proof that the stately trees that we gawked at were, in fact, at Sequoia National Park, not Redwoods National Park. I have read with amusement my absolute delight in the Magic of Disneyland. I have learned that a cable car ride in San Francisco cost 25 cents. I have found the name of the park where we stumbled through lava rocks and cinder cones -- Craters of the Moon National Monument. I have confirmed that YES we DID travel to the Badlands. I have realized that on our last day of vacation, Day 48, we woke up early to watch Apollo 15 astronauts drive the first Lunar Roving Vehicle on the moon. More, and more. Dozens upon dozens of places, dozens upon dozens of experiences. Page by page, I have uncovered evidence that confirms or negates fuzzy memories that I have speculated on for years. More importantly, I have gained a peek into my thoughts of the moment, when I was but a young lass, exploring sea to shining sea.
Finding this journal a few years ago actually inspired me to begin my recent quest to visit all 50 states. We covered 20 states on the Out West family vacation, so I had a great head start. Status now: Six states left for me to conquer the whole U.S. of A.
After I discovered my half-century-old journal the first time, and then rediscovered it this week, I get a warm fuzzy feeling when I look at it. Reading about what we did, in my own handwriting, takes me right back to the places where it all happened. The musty camper, the cramped car seat, the luxury (to me) Holiday Inn hotels we occasionally booked, the glorious campground swimming pools, the landscapes I had never seen before, the most renowned landmarks in the country. I can feel myself, as a preteen, judging and experiencing, drawing conclusions about people and places, squirming away from my family, then rushing to hug them fiercely. I can feel my parents' frustration in the car as I kept my nose buried in a book and then glanced around at the sights we were driving past, but only when they insisted that I look. I remember spots that took our breath away, and spots that leaned towards dull. I didn't realize it at the time, but it was an experience of a lifetime. I can’t stop reading the entries. My illustrations are icing on the cake.
Funny observations-- I completely switched handwriting styles midway through my 7-week writings. A testament, I think, to the boredom I sometimes felt on the long drives, the challenge I wanted to give myself, and my attempt to experiment with the unexpected. In writing, I also referred to my mom with different names; at times “Mom,” at times “Mommy,” at times “Mother.” Not sure what was up with that, but I assume it had to do with my emotions of the moment. Girls and their mothers, I guess. In writing, I consistently referred to my dad as “Daddy.”
I wrote about many amazing sights as we travelled from state to state. I wrote about mechanical trouble with our camping trailer, car breakdowns, plans that fell apart, short illnesses. I recorded what we ate, who we met. Every night I finished my writing with “and then we went to bed.” Day over.
I've got the short blond hair. Sometimes glasses, sometimes not:
As an adult, I love to plan travel. I have a million resources at my fingertips. But, in 1971, my dad had very few resources. I marvel at the work he did in putting our Out West Trip together. Calling long distance, charged by the minute, to speak directly with KOA campground owners. Filling out forms and requesting brochures. Writing checks and mailing payment to attractions and destinations. Waiting for the daily mail hoping that confirmation notifications would arrive. Not knowing exactly what to expect until we walked up to a ticket window any given day. What a stressful way to organize a family vacation. But my dad did it. And, for the most part, his plans fell into place.
This map hung in our kitchen during the planning stage. Red line marks our route for the Out West trip. Blue line marks the route for our Expo 67 trip.
We have many photos stuffed in photo albums dedicated to our adventurous Out West Trip. You've seen a few of them above. I am so, so thankful that I now have documentation to go along with the pictures. A record written in my own adolescent words.
I really don’t need a stack of journals from my past (if I had ever bothered to write any.) Truly, I would probably never read them. But, this one is different. It holds a place dear in my heart. I’m so glad that my mom encouraged me to write this journal in 1971. And, I’m so glad that I found it again.
A very special treasure.