38 & 39/50: Wisconsin & Minnesota

Wisconsin was full of cheese and jelly beans. Wisconsin is dubbed as “America’s Dairy” and so it was only natural that I had to consume large quantities of cheese while visiting. In the end I had to leave Wisconsin so that I would stop the cheese eating, but not before their cheese curds were thoroughly enjoyed. As I was driving in Wisconsin, I saw a sign for the Jelly Belly visitor centre. I had no idea this existed in Wisconsin of all places, but it seemed like a fitting random road trip stop.

At the visitor centre, they have a free train ride through their warehouse. It was fun to learn about the history and also see the various types of jelly belly art that people have done throughout the years… Truth be told I was a bit shocked that such a thing as jelly belly art exists. But nonetheless, I was amazed at how beautiful artwork could be created with jelly bellies. I was also amazed that people had set out to create artwork with jellybeans. I love different expressions of creativity and how they reflect God as Creator. So, take some time sometime to look up jelly belly art.. who knew? I’m pretty sure I would eat the jellybeans I needed and my art would be incomplete. Thus I will take up some other hobbies that don’t involve art supplies I could consume (this would include cheese art too I suppose).

So, there’s me on the jelly belly train, wearing a jelly belly hat (because it’s a working factory they ask that your head be covered). I chuckle at the image of me sitting there on the train. I often find myself in these moments where I am at places by myself surrounded by families with kids. I am thankful that I don’t mind doing such things by myself and can create fun as an adult on my own and for the great joy it brings. Amidst the joy though, there is also a longing for family and for others to share these random and fun moments with. I am getting better at noticing and identifying these feelings in those moments. I’m also continually thinking through what family means and what it means for me. I’m grateful that family isn’t always restricted by blood. I’m thankful for those who are like family in my life. Those who I can have these fun moments with and when I am by myself, I can send them photos of me on the Jelly Belly Express.

My main regret in Minnesota was not making it to the Spam Museum before it closed. But nonetheless, the drive was still quite lovely and I enjoyed a mixture of torrential downpours, sun and rainbows. I spent hours driving through Minnesota and spent the night there as well but I realize I didn’t actually see a lot of Minnesota (Spam Museum included). This entire trip I have been reminded of how interesting it is that whatever route I drive becomes my definition of that state. My experience defines the impressions I have of a place. Of course, in talking to others, I am able to get a better understanding of the things that make Minnesota what it is. Grateful for others’ perspectives on the journey as well because my view is quite limited.

Wisconsin likely has more to it than cheese and jellybeans and yet that was part of my experience there and I now associate those things with Wisconsin. Minnesota has more than fields, rapidly changing weather, spam museums and windmills.

Grief is one of those things that everyone goes through at different stages of life. It comes in different forms, varying intensities and is experienced in a plethora of ways by each individual depending on who they are and what their life has held. I have had different experiences of grief and understand it through my own experiences of loss throughout life. I have also learned a lot about grief by hearing other people’s stories that are different from my own.

I’m thankful for varying perspectives and that I can learn through listening and through sharing. Through these stories I gain a greater understanding of life beyond what my own journey has taught me. My impressions and experience of God is also broadened as I see God as much greater than what I have known and experienced. We can learn together through listening and sharing and sitting with one another through our seasons of grief (and also celebrating and rejoicing with others in those seasons as well!)

There are many more roads in Wisconsin and Minnesota that I didn’t drive. There are lots of different spots I could have stopped where others have explored. There are experiences I didn’t have. There are people I didn’t meet. There are stories left untold. I am thankful that I can continue learning and growing as I treasure the moments I have had, listen to the experiences of others and stand in awe and wonder that there is so much more about God, of this world and of others that I do not yet know.

 

37/50: Illinois

I don’t like change. I like to plan things and I stick with them. I tend to gravitate toward the familiar because it is what I know and like. This is ironic in face of the fact that I will try new things and I don’t mind venturing out on my own. While some may see me as adventuresome, I am also fairly cautious and don’t like to venture out too much.

I had originally planned to spend a night in Indiana, but as I thought about it (and realized that Gary wasn’t quite as I imagined it to be), I decided that I would rather spend an extra day in Chicago instead and also see if I could get tickets to Hamilton. Chicago is one of my favourite cities and I was thankful for the opportunity to return and walk around enjoying the sites of the city along with some interesting people watching.

Grief is one of those things that causes upheaval and change in one’s life. Sometimes I wonder if my tendency to cling to the familiar and resist change is in order to maintain some sense of control in life. Grief shows us the areas where we lack control. Loss disrupts the regular rhythm of life. It disrupts emotions. It comes upon us unexpectedly. And yet as we allow it to disrupt our days, and attend to it, this paves the way for healing. In moments where I have refused it, it causes more disruption later on. Healing and life flow out of our attention to grief.

So, as I mentioned, I did change my plans and although it meant a longer driving day, the result was wonderful. I was able to go see Hamilton. And that too was wonderful. For those of you who don’t know what Hamilton is, look it up- it’s a great musical. The guy who wrote it, Lin-Manuel Miranda, also wrote one of my favourite musicals, In The Heights. This one did not disappoint either- it was fantastic. It’s one of those musicals that has so many layers and stays with you for weeks afterwards.

I also visited my friends, Courtney & Nate. I was in Chicago over a year ago for their wedding and it was fun to see them again. We decided to follow up Hamilton by seeing Spamilton, which was also fantastic, but for different reasons than Hamilton. 🙂 I am thankful for the gift of friendship and memories of seasons of life enjoyed together. And deep dish pizza too, because when in Chicago…

Even though I resist change, I am thankful for it. I don’t like my plans being disrupted and yet generally the end result is one that is full of life. The change itself might be painful and the process of dealing with that change difficult, but I am thankful for the opportunities for growth and a deepening of appreciating life in the midst of the hard, wonderful and the mundane.

33, 34, 35 & 36/50: Pennsylvania, Ohio, Michigan, Indiana

There comes different points in life where you reach your saturation point. By the time I was back in Pennsylvania on my final stretch home, I was still excited about what I was seeing and doing, but I was in a lull where I had reached my saturation point. I enjoyed lots of beautiful sites but tired of taking pictures of them. Armed with my camera (aka my phone) full of pictures and the stories they held, there were moments during this lull where I didn’t really care. I didn’t want to take anymore pictures or stop as frequently as I had before. Nonetheless, I still strove to take a picture in each state and to do something to experience it.

A few years ago when I was in Pennsylvania, I was in an entirely different area. This time I decided to go to Erie, PA to walk alongside Lake Erie. I went sailing once on Lake Erie in Ontario and so it’s funny to see it from a completely new perspective in a different country. Lake Erie is really big. I love the great lakes because your mind can’t quite take in the fact that it’s a lake. Having grown up near the ocean, it’s funny to think that a lake can make me think I’m standing on the edge of the ocean. On this trip I was continually reminded that God’s creation pushes me past my saturation point into a position of awe and wonder. I can’t take it all in and process it all, so I just step back and marvel at the God who is reflected all around me.

I’m not sure why, but I never pictured Ohio as having large cities. Of course they do because most of the states have them, but for some reason I was surprised. Anyway, Cleveland is a pretty cool city that I would love to return to for more exploring one day. In Ohio, I also saw one of the most breathtaking sunsets I have ever seen. I took a picture at one point but it doesn’t really do it justice as is true of most pictures… it’s like the camera can’t even take it all in. Makes me feel better for those moments when I can’t take it all in because it’s too wonderful for me to understand.

In Michigan I enjoyed some time on Lake Michigan, another one of those giant lakes that you can’t quite process in fullness. I have visited Lake Michigan a couple times while in Chicago, so once again it was fun to see the other side of it.

People have often asked me how I planned my trip. A lot of it depended on where I had people to visit and stay with, along with specific national parks I wanted to visit. Otherwise I would often look at a state and my potential route through it and pick random cities to stop in or spend the night. Sometimes a city would be familiar because I had heard of it before (in a movie, on Ticket to Ride the board game, in a book, etc), and so I would appease my curiosity and visit it.

In Indiana, I was excited when I saw the city of Gary on the map. Instantly I started singing the song from Music Man about Gary, Indiana (and yes this song was stuck in my head during much of my time in Indiana). The Music Man takes place in Gary, Indiana and therefore I assumed that meant it would be a lovely place to visit (and would maybe even have a band of children marching through town). Wrong. Fun facts about Gary: the Jackson 5 were born there and that’s where they lived. It has also been one of the 10 most dangerous cities in America. Due to great population loss, it has become a  ghost town. All the buildings on the main street are boarded up and its desolation echoes on the streets. I was grieved on many levels as this was yet another side of America to take in and process. Sometimes it feels too overwhelming to hold the sorrow and brokenness of a place and yet our humanity connects us to those places and our own brokenness is reflected there. It is a lot to try to take in and hold.

As I reflected on my own saturation points on this journey, especially feeling it through these states, I realized how we all have saturation points for the grief we walk through and experience in life. I’m thankful for the grace that is extended to us in the journey of life, especially in the many griefs we face. Grief has repeatedly shown me God’s gentleness. I think this is why grief often comes to us like waves, because in the midst of it, there are moments of reprieve, moments of hope and reminders of life. Grief is mixed in with beautiful sunsets and giant lakes that look like oceans, so that in the midst of trying to take it all in and process it, we can both grieve and hope, weep and smile. When we reach our saturation points, we can rest in God who loves us, holds us, comforts us and gives us hope.

31 & 32 / 50: New Hampshire & Vermont

 

Not only have I missed blogging these past couple months, I also missed two states and posted my ‘Canadian Interlude’ post too early. New Hampshire and Vermont are the forgotten states and yet I loved driving through them and really enjoyed certain stops along the way. It’s funny how something can be part of the journey and yet we readily forget about it.

When I lived in Quebec, I visited New Hampshire and Vermont a few times and consequently I wasn’t overly excited to visit them. However, I drove through areas I had never been through (and didn’t even know existed) and loved the lushness of all the trees. Seeing the trees made me imagine how vibrant it must be in the Fall when the leaves change colour. I drove through the White Mountains in New Hampshire. You couldn’t see them in their entirety as it was a foggy, rainy day, but the fogginess added to the mystery and wonder of the area. Being back in the coolness of a rainy day was a nice reprieve after the heat and humidity of the southern states.

I didn’t see anything overly spectacular on this part of my journey (possibly why I even forgot about it), but I took in the beauty and enjoyed it. I had seen this type of scenery before and taken walks along similar lakes, but it was an important day. Driving through was a transition to my Canadian interlude, to a place of rest from being on the road. Despite feeling ordinary, it still felt like a special and significant part of the journey. I realize this is a lot like life… our days are often monotonous and much like the others that have come before them. Yet, as we are present to notice and take in each moment, it is special and significant.

There are a lot of aspects of my journey with my mom that don’t stand out in my memory. There were really hard days, really great days and then all the days in between that seemed to pass by without me noticing their significance. There’s moments when I remember a moment and take joy in the little things of that memory. I rejoice in the incremental, seemingly insignificant moments because their culmination is a beautiful and important part of the journey. So, Vermont and New Hampshire were not write offs but were important parts in the whole of my journey. And perhaps someday I will plan a return trip there in the Fall to enjoy the leaves.

 

 

Canadian Interlude

I dipped into Canada for a few days of my trip. I had to go to Montreal to attend a training for a summer class I was taking and while I was there I took a couple days to visit dear friends who I used to live and work with when I lived in Quebec. Although this seemed a diversion from visiting the states, I honestly don’t know if I would have been able to finish my trip well without my Canadian interlude. Quebec is a second home for me and has a dear place in my life and heart. Consequently, being there was a form of respite in the midst of my journey.

Have you ever experienced deep stirrings  when you’ve visited a place you love? Every time I enter Quebec, I have butterflies in my stomach. Butterflies of expectation, excitement, memories and an anticipation of settling into a place that has been such a significant part of my life.

Quebec holds many memories and holds deep meaning for me. I first moved there when I was 18 as a student to attend bible school. In the two years before I moved there, my brother and dad had both died and I had graduated from high school. I didn’t know how to grieve or that it was okay to grieve and so I had a lot of compounded pain and grief and I didn’t know what to do with it. I used to see my move to Quebec as “running away” from having to grieve, but now I recognize that I didn’t know what else to do and felt lost and entrenched in pain that I didn’t know how to sort through. Quebec was a place where God slowly started softening my heart and providing me a safe place to start grieving slowly. The figurative walls I had built up around my heart started being removed there, brick by brick. This became the impetus to me returning to BC two years later to do the hard work of wading through layers of grief and learning how to identify and feel the pain. It was hard work but slowly God started the healing process in my heart.

After graduating from university and working for a while, I decided to move back to Quebec. I had visited many times in the years in between and still had a deep love for the place and the people there. It was a really difficult choice to move there though. I decided I would start by working at the bible school I had attended and then after a few years I would find a more permanent home and job in Quebec. After two years of working there, I got the call from my mom that she had cancer. I had finally started settling into life in Quebec when I felt torn from the community there and brought back to BC to an even harder situation, but brought me back to my other “home”.

My mom and I also had lots of fun in Quebec. She came out to visit me a few different times and I cherish the memories from those trips together.

So, whenever I enter Quebec, a flood of all these thoughts and more comes over me. My time with friends was renewing and refreshing, especially after 10 days of traveling by myself. While in my second home as well I had a lot of reflecting concerning where or what our true home is. My mom was often the definition of home, because no matter where I was or what I was doing, I could always come home to her and she was my constant in the midst of life. I don’t have this sense of home anymore and have a physical home where I live, but it’s not always the same.

I’m learning that where I am is home. I can be fully present to where I am and who I am with. As Paul quotes in the book of Acts, it is in Christ that I live, move and have my being. As I am fully present to each moment, I can fully rest in God, recognizing that he is my home, even in the midst of uncertainties and when it doesn’t feel like I have a constant place to land. God is my refuge. God is my place of rest. God is my constant. God is my home.

When I was at the training in Montreal for a few days, there was a labyrinth that I walked each day. I appreciate labyrinths for many reasons and love that it is a physical embodiment of centering myself and it has become a meaningful practice of prayer and just being with God. This labyrinth had a “shortcut” to the middle when you first walk in and there was a little sign next to it saying “no!”. I laughed to myself that I could just cheat and go straight to the middle. That parallels to life are strong- along this journey I am on, I often want to be in the middle. I want to know what the middle is. And yet I am stuck on these other paths, uncertain of when I will get to the middle and curving around in different directions that are unexpected and at times seem long and lead me in different directions that I think I should be going.

 

As I walked the labyrinth each day, I kept hearing God’s gentle voice, “be where you are.” Generally my response would include asking “But God, where am I going?” “God, when will I get there?” “God, what will it look like?” And over and over again, “Be here. Be where you are.”

So far on this trip, I have had this unique experience of being more present to where I am than I have ever experienced. It has been profound and wonderful to be able to enter more fully into each situation and place and I long to live with this type of presence. I continually get caught up with what’s next and in doing so, unwittingly fast track what is to be experienced right now. My time in Quebec served as a reminder again to be fully present to each moment and to be where I am. The truth of this is so strong and resonates so deeply with me and yet I need to be reminded daily to be where I am.

I am here. God is with me. And it is good.

 

 

30/50: Maine

I stayed in Maine for a few days and being along the ocean was lovely. Maine also afforded me the change  to continue my lobster eating fest and to soak in moments of being by the ocean. Since Portland, Maine is also a bit of a foodie town, I discovered potato donuts which were amazing with really tasty flavours. Different texture than regular donuts but a good experience and it felt healthier since somehow I was eating potatoes? Of course this isn’t true but I will let it stand that way in my memory.

I love whale watching and figured it would be fun to see some different kind of whales (it was). We saw a basking shark, a minke whale that almost hit our boat and a black fin whale. And when I say we, I’m referring of course to myself. I suppose I could include all the other people on the boat who became my newfound friends and made the day even more enjoyable. My fun was not even deterred after a giant wave came over the side of the boat and soaked my camera and I.

There is a lot to do and see in Maine. Portland itself is full of fun places to explore and lots of lighthouses and beaches to check out, along with lots of places to eat lobster. There’s also a national park that was about three hours away that I had planned on driving to. However, at this point in my trip, I realized that although everything I have been doing has been great, it has also been exhausting. For over a month I had been driving, visiting people, exploring new places, writing, processing emotions and when I settled in for a few days in Portland, I realized how incredibly weary and exhausted I was.

So, on my second day in Maine, I did not set foot out of the house where I was staying. I slept in (okay, I may have stayed up until 4am reading, trying to finish Harry Potter the night before), took naps throughout the day (because I had stayed up until 4am and because I was just tired), read, journalled, did some colouring, made up a couple makeshift meals from the items in my cooler and just took time to be still. I found a comfy spot on the couch and enjoyed looking out the window, watching the leaves blow in the trees, the people walking by, the clouds floating across the sky and enjoying a cooler breeze through the window. Once again I was faced with the fact that there was so much to do, see and experience and here I was doing none of that.

Rest is good and important. This day was a meaningful Sabbath in the middle of my journey where I could rest. It was a day where doing “nothing” was productive in ways I will never understand. I could just be me and it was enough. I didn’t need to do anything, produce something or go and have an amazing experience. Just “being” was good. Extending grace to myself amidst the desire to do more was important.

My remaining two days in Portland after this were wonderful. My rest provided rejuvenation and restoration for my weary soul and body. It’s still funny to me how much I resist rest. I used to have the perspective that if there was an opportunity for me to experience something, I should always say yes. Now I’m realizing that just because I can do something doesn’t mean I should. There will always be more to see and do and if I cannot find a place of rest and setting healthy & realistic boundaries for myself to live in, I will be worn out and never satisfied. The things I have experienced are good and enough. Of course there is more to see and explore and it’s totally okay that I haven’t done it all. I can find this place of rest in God, being fully me, enjoying where I am.

During the time when I was a caregiver for my mom, I didn’t always take the time to recognize my need for rest either. Sometimes it didn’t feel like I was doing much and yet my work was emotionally and physically exhausting in ways I didn’t realize at the time. I do not need to feel bad or guilty for needing rest. There have been times this past year where I created space for rest that was necessary in my healing journey and rather than looking back at it with guilt and thoughts of what I “should” have been doing, I can look at it with gratitude for the rest & space needed to come to a place of wholeness again. Our lives are full, whether we are working, travelling, parenting or being with others. Rest is important, good and life-giving. Rest is a gift that I am learning to receive.

29/50: Massachusetts

Cape Cod. Martha’s Vineyard. Nantucket. Names I have always heard from books, TV shows and movies but I had no idea where they were. Massachusetts wouldn’t have been my first guess, but now I have discovered that Massachusetts isn’t just a fun (and difficult) state name to say (well Boston and other parts are pretty great too).

I stayed in Cape Cod for a few days and explored the mainland and took two day trips to Nantucket and Martha’s Vineyard via ferry. Cape Cod is lovely- long stretches of beach, soft wonderful sand, lighthouses and beautiful landscapes. And it was also the place where my week long lobster and seafood feast began. Provincetown is at the tip and was the first landing place of the pilgrims. Lots of history and great stretches of national beach to explore.

My trip to Martha’s Vineyard was interspersed with downpours, but it was still a great day. Fun fact: Martha’s Vineyard has no vineyard (okay, so it’s more of a disappointing fact, but surprising nonetheless). It was also where Jaws was filmed. They have a neighbourhood of gingerbread style houses. It started as the Methodist camp back in the day and they would all tent it and then they built houses and there’s still a meeting place in the middle of it all. It gives a taste of community and times of being together. I was amazed at the amount of gingerbread houses that were there. I was expecting a couple but there were dozens. Lots of interesting stories about the history of the island and those who have visited and lived there. I ended up getting caught in a downpour and returned back to my room that evening soaking wet. There was a split second before I left my home back in April when I thought “I should bring a rainjacket” and then I thought “nah, I’m going on a trip, obviously it won’t rain.” Sound logic.

The next day I went to Nantucket. At one point in its history, this was the whaling capital. I went to the whaling museum- so many stories and artifacts from that time in history. It made me want to start reading Moby Dick again but then I remembered my previous attempts and decided I would delay any future attempts.

I enjoy riding bike, so I decided the best way to see the island would be to rent a bike. The island on my giant map of the US is really small, so it’s definitely feasible to bike most of the island. (Sound logic again). The guy at the bike shop recommended a few different beaches I could choose between to visit. I thought “why make a choice when I can bike to them all?” The logic continues. (Insert the lesson that just because I can do something doesn’t mean I should…)

Nantucket is beautiful. The beaches are lovely. The bike paths are well laid out and lush with beautiful plants. It was a beautiful, warm sunny day. The old whaling houses are interesting to look at. The lobster in the restaurants is tasty. The lighthouses held history and were fun to look at. There were lakes in the middle of the island with snapping turtles.

However, Nantucket isn’t perfect. Some of the beaches have a lot of erosion and garbage strewn in the sand. There are a lot of hills that the bike paths go through. In town, you have to ride on bumpy cobblestone streets. Some of the beaches were fogged in and it was cold.

As a result of my ambitious bike route that I mapped out in the morning, I ended up riding about 40 kms around the island. In flip flops. The last hour I couldn’t even sit on my bike because my butt hurt so much. My flip flops are thin and I could feel my feet digging into the pedals by the end of the day. Did I mention my butt was really sore? Despite all of these factors, my day was wonderful. I look at it and laugh at all my mishaps of the day and they fit into all the good of the day and it makes it an even better day on so many different levels. My conversation with myself as I biked around the island all day went something like this:

“I love biking. Biking is the best thing ever. I love the breeze as I ride, I love the freedom as I fly down these hills.”

5 seconds later

“I hate biking. Why in the world did I decide to rent a bike today? Why did I rent it for the whole day when I could have just gone out for an hour? My butt is starting to hurt. And this hill will never end.”

5 seconds later

“This bike path is just so beautiful. Oooh, look at those pretty flowers over there. And the rolling hills are so wonderful to look at. And it’s such a nice day today, I should take my sweatshirt off and enjoy the sun.”

5 seconds later

“My butt hurts. The air is getting colder. I should put my sweatshirt back on. Ugh, why did I decide biking was a good idea?”

5 seconds later

“I love biking. This is wonderful. I should do this more often.”

5 seconds later

“I can’t sit on this bike anymore. Maybe I can bike while standing up? Why did I decide to go to multiple beaches? I think I might be stranded here because there’s no way I can make it back up those hills.”

5 seconds later

“This is the best! I can use the different speeds on my bike and conquer this island! Maybe I should bike to a fifth beach?”

5 seconds later

“I can’t pedal anymore. I hate biking. I’m going to get stranded out here forever. My butt hurts.”

5 seconds later

“That was the best day ever! I should rent bikes everywhere!”

You get the picture. Days, moments and lifetimes that are great aren’t picture perfect. We tend to only present the positive side of it, but along the way it’s often messy, painful and miserable. Of course, these things don’t last forever and everything else you experience along the way makes it worth it. And the messy parts are often what enriches it and makes it more meaningful. While the difficult moments suck (and I don’t want to diminish the pain or anguish of those), they are transformative in who we are and how we engage life if we are willing to face it. I remember my day biking on Nantucket with great joy because I really did enjoy it and I now laugh at the dramatic moments of misery I expressed to myself throughout the day. The sore butt was worth it just as entering into the messy and painful parts of life is worth it in the end as well as we persevere and push forward.

Of course, I also had grace with myself by taking time to sit longer at some beaches and walking my bike back to the bike shop for the last leg of my trip because I couldn’t stand to sit on my bike any longer. The “agony” of my day was blended into the rest of it, contributing to my own growth and strength and rounding out the day in a great way. Life is a mix of many things, good and bad, pleasant and unpleasant and yet I’m so thankful to be engaged in all the parts of life (although I likely won’t always feel that way in the thick of it…)

27 & 28/50: Connecticut & Rhode Island

One of the things I love about this road trip is that when I see a sign for something interesting or random, I have the freedom to pull over and explore. There are often times where I’m led to what seems like a dead end. Other things I am pleasantly surprised. I have taken countless detours for beaches, trails, and waterfalls. And then there’s random things like the Pez visitor centre. As I was driving through Connecticut, I saw it listed as one of the attractions in Orange, CT off the freeway. I decided it fit into those random things one ought to do on roadtrips. They had the largest pez dispenser in the world, the largest pez dispenser collection. There were a lot of families there and then there was me playing pez bingo as I walked around (I even won a free Pez dispenser- whoop whoop).

This trip has been filled with many grand sites. From stunning waterfalls to awe-inspiring canyons to oceans, mountains and forests. In the midst of the grandness of it all, it can be easy to miss the small joys as well. If you had the choice between the Grand Canyon and the Pez visitor centre, I’m guessing you might choose the Grand Canyon (unless you’re a diehard Pez collector of course). Yet the combination of both of these places have distinct memories in my trip and they play important parts. We often cast aside the “small” or ordinary things, missing their significance altogether. And yet each of these moments are woven into my tapestry of memories. Each plays a part in my journey and also in forming who I am. We often look to the big things or big decisions in life and yet it’s often the incremental decisions or moments that make the biggest difference over time.

Connecticut also had some lovely lakes and a great boardwalk to walk alongside the ocean. If you had asked me previous to this trip, I don’t think I would have listed Connecticut as one of the states that touches the Atlantic Ocean. Then again, I’m pretty sure there’s a lot about many of the states I’ve visited that I had no clue about before. Each has a rich history and stories of its own to tell.

Next stop was Newport, Rhode Island. Newport is well known for its mansions that were the height of the ‘Gilded Age’ in the late 1800’s, early 1900’s. The term was used by Mark Twain in reference to the thin gold plating that could cover up scores of issues and problems underneath. I toured a couple of the mansions, enjoyed the cliff walk and the beach. As I went to the mansions, what was fascinating to me was all the stories they held. The audio tours were rife with stories, sharing tales of those who owned the house and those who served in the houses as well.

At one mansion, it talked about how the lady of the house had a summer party budget, because these were important in their social society. In today’s currency, the equivalency of this budget would be 12 million dollars for summer parties- crazy! Reading the stories of the parties was interesting because they definitely went all out. I was struck by how easy it would be to get caught up in the social trappings of competition and status and trying to prove one’s worth through lavish parties and ornate furnishings and decorations. It’s easy to read about their histories and judge them and yet as humans, we still participate in similar trappings, just in other forms. The family histories of these places is always amazing because many of them contributed significantly to society. They left interesting legacies in their stories. My imagination continues to think of all the stories that remain untold. It is such a rich heritage to share our stories with one another, to hold stories for others and to share them. Our stories in themselves become a legacy to treasure and to inspire hope and life.

26/50: New York

Out of the two trips my mom and I planned to New York, both were disastrous yet wonderful. The first trip, I was getting over a lung infection and she had been recovering from bronchitis & a bad cough (I realize in retrospect this was likely her lung cancer back then already). We were a hacking pair that could only take a few steps before being completely winded. It was her first time in New York but because we had respiratory issues, we couldn’t walk around much and needed more rest. We had tickets for four musicals, went to a few famous chef restaurants that my mom really wanted to try out and then the rest of the time we hunkered down in our hotel room watching movies on the hotel TV. Our hotel was conveniently located right back a Shake Shack so we would usually grab burgers and shakes on the way back to the room as well. Although it was not the grand New York trip we had envisioned, we still had a lot of fun that weekend and I have some great memories from our time together.

We didn’t make it to New York on our second trip. My mom was flying to Montreal to meet me (I was living in Quebec at the time) and then we were going to fly to NYC together. We had just found out that there was the possibility she might have cancer so we weren’t sure if she should risk traveling but being the adventurous spirit that she was, she wouldn’t take no for an answer and insisted that we still go. On the way to Montreal, she almost died on the plane from a blood clot in her lung. So, she was taken to emergency right off the plane and had to stay there for three days and wasn’t allowed to fly for a week. While she was in the hospital I would bring her tasty Montreal food and we would play Yahtzee together on her hospital bed (we used magazines to cover up the annoying noise that Yahtzee tends to make…). Then she spent a few days with me at my place and I flew back to BC with her. Also not the New York trip we had planned and it also included some scary and sad moments as we anticipated what the future might look like once we got her full diagnosis, but through it all I still have fond memories of laughter and making the best of a situation that wasn’t the most positive.

So, when I went to New York, I thought of my mom often. As I walked around Central Park I thought about the fact that she never got to see the park even though we were there for a few days. I ate burgers at Shake Shack both days that she would have loved, in honour of her (portobella mushroom burger for the win). And I saw some fantastic musicals that transported me into other worlds, left me crying and laughing and feeling inspired and hopeful about life.

If you know me, you know that I love musicals. My love for musicals is perhaps a bit over the top and obsessive but I see them every chance I get. When I was younger, whatever musical was in town, my mom would buy eight tickets (because that’s how many seats her vehicle had), she would fill up her suburban and we would all head to Vancouver to be dazzled and wowed by the different shows (and the odd time disappointed but with funny stories of a show that wasn’t so great that we all tediously endured together). I’m so thankful she introduced me to musicals at such a young age and fostered my love for them.

Although my whole family enjoyed musicals, I especially shared a love for them with my oldest brother, Leon. He was amazingly gifted musically and he performed in a couple different musicals in high school and it was such a joy to watch him perform and come alive doing something he was so good at and that he loved. One of my days in New York was the anniversary of the day Leon died. So I thought it likewise fitting to remember him by going to see musicals I know he also would have loved.

Each musical I saw was spectacular in its own way and spoke deeply to me and to different aspects of grief in unexpected ways. I love how stories can do this, especially stories that come at you in the form of singing, dancing and acting. Remembering my mom and Leon while there made it even more special.

New York- Part II

 

About two weeks after my initial visit to New York in NYC, I spent some time in upstate New York (at least I think that’s what they call it) in the Finger Lakes area. It was a wonderful day and it ended up being a formidable waterfall tour. While driving I passed some waterfalls on the side of the road and then I went to Glen Watkins State Park which is a river running through a gorge and has countless waterfalls, some of which you can even walk behind! It was lovely. They had stone steps and bridges throughout the park so you could walk along the entire length of the gorge. I ended up getting soaked as I walked behind a couple of the falls but it was humid and it was worth it to take in the experience of being so close to something that is so majestic. The entire day felt filled with wonder and the continual gift of being able to see one of my favourite things.

 

I even wore shoes for the walk through Glen Watkins. It’s amazing how different an experience can be when you’re somewhat prepared for it. Of course, I didn’t bring water or food and hadn’t eaten since breakfast, but I guess you can’t be prepared for everything at the same time. What I loved about the park was I was struck with awe at each new point. I would lower my expectations but as soon as I turned a corner, I saw something different and wonderful in its own way. A good reminder to keep moving forward and although the 100 steps in front of you seem daunting, it is worth it in the end. All in all, the 800 stairs in this park were well worth it and the whole day was absolutely wonderful.

 

 

24 & 25/50: Delaware & New Jersey

There are some states that I spend more time in than others. There are also some states where I take way more pictures than other states. The two might have a correlation but some days I really don’t feel like taking pictures. The couple days I spent in Delaware and New Jersey I didn’t much feel like taking photos, but there were really cool clouds and I have a great sun roof that afforded me the opportunity to take some upward shots (while pulled over of course).

Making a plan to travel through all 50 states is no small task. It took hours of planning, mapping, re-planning, re-mapping, looking up interesting stops, coordinating dates with people I wanted to visit and figuring out how long each day would take and what was feasible driving time. Some days that are only three hours of driving turn into eight hours, because I like to pull over and follow signs on the road leading me to interesting places (or on the rare occasions totally uninteresting places that do not live up to the interest that was originally invoked in their name). Two things I forgot to factor into my road trip planning were time changes and toll charges. Entering Delaware began my deluge of having to pay tolls in different areas. When driving across a few states with toll roads, it’s baffling how much you end up paying in toll fees.

In my planning and as I have been traveling, one of the questions that has come up is what it means to be in a place. For me specifically the question is what does it mean to have been in a state. I have driven a few hours in every state I have passed through, enjoying the scenery along the way. I have usually had some sort of rest stop. I have eaten a meal in every state. I have taken a picture in every state. I’ve chatted with people in every state (especially during the ten days I had by myself…). Is it necessary to do something spectacular or see the main attraction to have been in a state or is it just enough to have been there and created your own experience?

If someone came to visit me in BC and I picked them up at the airport and brought them to my house and they never set foot out of my house or did any activities (which would never happen by the way), would they still have been in BC? My answer would be yes but it would have been a different experience.

Traditionally my nature has been to tackle everything when I go somewhere. When I was 13, our first international family trip took us to Ireland for a few weeks. My mom researched everything there was to see and do in Ireland and we did it all. She rented a giant van (which is a horrible idea in a country with narrow, windy roads) and wanted to make sure we didn’t miss anything in case we never had the chance to go back. So perhaps this is where this mentality began. And yet as I grow older, I realize just because I can do something doesn’t mean I should. Just because there is a great experience to be had does not necessitate that I do it. Sometimes moderation and saying no is a good thing and makes the other experiences even better.

I have not seen what every state has to offer, but I am being present wherever I am and taking in the experience that my itinerary in each state offers me. I’m thankful for the rhythm of busier days and more relaxed days. And if I return to any of these places, I know there will be other things to see and do and that will be a new experience. My experiences in each state and being present where I am is good and worthwhile and I’m thankful for each moment of being in a place as I go along.