Thoughts on Traveling

My dad always says, "There's plenty of stuff to see in America!"

He doesn't really like traveling, or maybe it's just that he doesn't really like flying.  He especially doesn't like the idea of flying over the ocean.  So he never did it, until he was in his 50's, I think, and even then it was only to Hawaii.  He's been to Israel since, but given the option, I think he'd rather have gone to Hawaii again.  Or Alaska.  Or even to his beloved Idaho.

Here's the thing:  I never really understood why my dad sang America's praises so loudly, when there were adventures to be had in the lands of my inheritance.  What are the flat lands of America's breadbasket to the green hills of Ireland or the castles of England?  Who cares about wide open spaces, when you can listen to bagpipes in Scotland or run through the Black Forest of Germany?  There is so much to be said for the objects of history in those countries.  Plus, I can imagine standing in an English countryside, breathing in the air of my forbears and perhaps letting their words of prose and poetry float up from the ground and into my soul.  Or maybe, I would walk through the streets of Bremervorde and see the order and exactitude of the Stellings in the buildings that stood when they were alive.

It occurred to me a few years ago, however, that things don't have gravitas, people do.  A street, a building, a city, and a country carry the weight you place on them.  And what are things to people?  When friends publish pictures online of themselves standing in front of an ancient temple or a famous landmark, I find that I don't look at the temple or the landmark.  I look at my friend.  I almost have to remind myself to notice what's in the background.

If that's the case -- if people are more important than things -- then I understand why my dad is content to stay in America.  I actually tend to feel the same.  Do roads and buildings and monuments signify the qualities of the people I come from?  Sure.  Would I take a trip around the world to catch a glimpse of those qualities?  Of course.  But would I be happy to visit only the cities that my living loved ones call home?  Definitely.  America is my country.  My home.  It's full of just as much wonder as any other spot on this planet, and it's the place with the highest concentration of people I care about.

Perhaps I am writing this as a justification for the fact that I've never stepped foot on foreign soil, but I genuinely don't think so.  I think I just finally understand my dad.


Thing I'm thankful for: smoothies