I flew back home for my father’s funeral over 18 years ago. It brought back memories of my childhood. Some were good and some were poignant. I never knew if I had a normal family. I suppose we were normal for the 1950s, but I’ve always lived outside the box. Before my father died, he told me about his one regret regarding me. “I’ve always felt that I didn’t do enough for you,” he said quietly. I was quiet for a moment and then replied, “Well, maybe that’s what made me who I am, that independent woman who could do everything for herself; I am that woman who doesn’t need barriers.” Dad seemed satisfied with my answer and that was probably the deepest conversation we’d ever had.

One of my fondest memories of my father was reading the National Geographic Magazine together.I saved all the map inserts, and we would spread them out on the rug in the living room. I would peruse them all night and spontaneously ask him questions about places he had been. The huge black and white console TV would be blaring in the background, turned up loud because of the static (we had an antenna back then). And, with only three channels to choose from, sometimes there was nothing on that I wanted to watch. Well, unless it was reruns of My Favorite Martian, Lost in Space and later the first Star Trek series.

I pointed out the great deserts and wondrous mountains on the map to him. When I was about eight years old, I realized that my father had traveled the world but had never been out west. I remember telling Dad that I was going to live in Colorado. I told him that somehow I knew that I belonged there, maybe had lived there in a past life or something like that. My father who was a true southern Baptist would shake his head, make harrumphing noises, and ignore that train of thought. My mother often agreed with me but would never discuss these past-life recollections if my father were around. Of course, Mom always had trouble with the thoughts that one day all her children would leave her. She encouraged us all to go to college and get good jobs. “You can do anything you want,” she’d tell each of us. She wanted us to join the world, but at the same time she wanted us to stay close to home, able to see her at a moment’s notice. Two of my sisters did just that. Me? I wanted an adventure. So, I traveled the country in a 1972 Toyota Corolla, over deserts and mountains, and finally settled in the place I should be: Colorado.

Stay tuned for Part II tomorrow.

Love to all!