Some of my most memorable times growing up in Wisconsin centered on the delightful trips our family made with our pop-up camper and the simple campers that followed. My parents loved to travel and their three children were the lucky beneficiaries. My dad had his own hardware and furniture store and worked incredibly hard, but for two weeks of the year he wanted all of us to learn more about different regions of the U.S. and to have fun doing it. He and my mother spent weeks planning for each trip. His childhood was spent working on the family farm and there was no time or money for vacations, so he was proud that he and my mother could provide different opportunities for us. I will always treasure the time we spent traveling throughout the U.S. because the trips he dreamed of making after retirement never materialized. His life was cut short by cancer at age 60.
my mother on the left
In 1948 my mother wrote in a scrapbook of our family: “We were able to purchase a new car this fall—a new Studebaker to make our trips more enjoyable. We will have a new brother or sister for the boys within a short time also.” Even when she was waiting for my birth, she was looking ahead to trips down the road. The following year she wrote, “We celebrated our eleventh anniversary with a trip to Canada. We had a wonderful time and caught lots of fish.” A few years later she wrote, “Had another lovely trip in the summer to Canada and Niagara Falls.”
During the summer after I finished second grade we made a trip to Glacier Park and the Canadian Rockies part of our annual trip. The following year my mother proudly reported, “We took Terry (my oldest brother) along on our vacation this year—a fishing trip to Yellowstone. He did so enjoy it. Fished all day long.”
In 1960 my parents decided to take us east. My mother wrote: “We bought a trailer and went east to Washington D.C., Philadelphia, New York City, and Niagara. Lovely trip!”
Probably the trip I remember the most was after visiting my oldest brother in Tully, New York. He was recently married and the area where he and his new wife lived was simple and beautiful. We drove to historic sites all over the east, but on our return trip home, our car caught on fire in Ypsilante, Michigan and nearly burned up. It was horrifying, but miraculously, a policeman was traveling on the same highway and stopped to help us. He took us to his home, where we stayed for several days. My mother wrote, “We were taken in by some wonderful people, the Maxwells. We will always remember them.” And indeed they did, as they corresponded for many years.
The following year we traveled to the World’s Fair in Seattle during the summer and to Arizona in the winter. My father had a rich uncle who lived in Phoenix and he would let us park our camper on his yard and also have use of his house when needed. I remember that he was quite cranky, but my dad was always grateful that he let us stay on his property. Uncle Rella had been married five times, but that was of no consequence to my parents. They weren’t judgmental. We all loved going there and it was wonderful getting away from snowy Wisconsin in the winter.
My dad always took a lot of slides on our trips and it was fun to come home and look at them on the big screen while sitting around as a family and enjoying some popcorn. It was better than being at the movies. Recently I looked through some of those old slides and it was like being transported back to those happy traveling days. I know how lucky I am to have had such memorable experiences. Thanks Mom and Dad—I’ll always be grateful!
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