My family traveled Route 66 many times, leaving Chicago, back to Chicago, where the (Uncle Bud) cousins lived, then leaving again, driving back and then moving away from Chicago finally, then going back to visit.
Those roadtrips were so thrilling, from Florida to California (San Francisco) on a limited budget and hearing those long lagging sounds of the highway travels (truckers) you make reference to in an earlier post; pulling off to the side of the road to catch a snooze; a billowing of smoke as my mother and stepfather smoked nonstop, her with her Salem’s and my stepfather with his cigars and my brother and I, 11 & 7 years old smelling of ashtrays yet it was truly magical; the wilderness as well as the unknown.. simply fascinating!! Those were kinder days, without a doubt.
Thanks for rekindling those memories so deeply stored in our memory banks.
I remember seeing you at the Troubadour in Los Angeles next door to La Masía back in the mid 70’s. Life was a dream 💭
There was never anything better growing up, than the family roadtrips. A different time in history, a different way of living, a time when I felt safe. Seemed a kinder world back then. The roadside stops, the Dairy Queen cones in the back of the station wagon.
Thank you for sharing. I grew up a little than you ... but one of your points is well taken ... respect, courtesy, politeness. There is no replacement. Civility has become the pinata bag for so many. So sad. We are all in the same boat and long for being seen, heard, and wanted. You have a megaphone that few people have ... thank you for raising the topic.
Beautiful. This reminds me of the importance of crossing thresholds, which can be physical spaces but can also be thoughts. And that if we allow ourselves to cross thresholds and be surprised at what we find there, how wonderful life can be! There is no neutral space. Route 66 is always there waiting with pie and the stories of strangers.
oh, i love your stories and the photo!
Those roadtrips were so thrilling, from Florida to California (San Francisco) on a limited budget and hearing those long lagging sounds of the highway travels (truckers) you make reference to in an earlier post; pulling off to the side of the road to catch a snooze; a billowing of smoke as my mother and stepfather smoked nonstop, her with her Salem’s and my stepfather with his cigars and my brother and I, 11 & 7 years old smelling of ashtrays yet it was truly magical; the wilderness as well as the unknown.. simply fascinating!! Those were kinder days, without a doubt.
Thanks for rekindling those memories so deeply stored in our memory banks.
I remember seeing you at the Troubadour in Los Angeles next door to La Masía back in the mid 70’s. Life was a dream 💭
There was never anything better growing up, than the family roadtrips. A different time in history, a different way of living, a time when I felt safe. Seemed a kinder world back then. The roadside stops, the Dairy Queen cones in the back of the station wagon.
Memories are golden.
Getting ready to drive a major part of Rt.66 next month. I've got tix to a show in LA. Have always wanted to travel it
You look like your dad, whom you are named after. :-)
Yes I do.
Thank you for sharing. I grew up a little than you ... but one of your points is well taken ... respect, courtesy, politeness. There is no replacement. Civility has become the pinata bag for so many. So sad. We are all in the same boat and long for being seen, heard, and wanted. You have a megaphone that few people have ... thank you for raising the topic.
The resemblance to your Granma…
Well thank you. A she was a step gramma!
Beautiful. This reminds me of the importance of crossing thresholds, which can be physical spaces but can also be thoughts. And that if we allow ourselves to cross thresholds and be surprised at what we find there, how wonderful life can be! There is no neutral space. Route 66 is always there waiting with pie and the stories of strangers.
This app is a threshold. Hey Rickie!
Hey you