Brian’s thoughts

 Brian here, for a change.  Mostly no pictures, just thoughts and observations about three parts of our trip so far.

It has been strange being near places I had been to in May without Kris.  As most of you know, I flew to Northern Virginia and stayed with a long time friend, Peter Miller (I could, but won’t say old friend) to attend a memorial service in NYC for Robert Gibbons, a high school friend that passed away unexpectedly.   We had talked about doing a road trip to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland, but COVID and scheduling problems got in the way, and it never happened.  Since I was up in Virginia, Peter and I decided to take pictures of Robert with us and take a mini road trip to finally see it.   On the way, we stopped at the Flight 93 National Historic Site, which Peter hadn’t visited.  It is about 20 miles from where I grew up, so it was very strange not to go to Johnstown, like I usually do.

We had a nice visit to R&RHoF, and caught a Guardians game.  We drove back a different way, and were very close to a cousins’ home, but I settled for a phone call to say “Hello while I am in the area”.

While driving with Kris this trip, I found myself thinking of my recent trip, and when driving through NYC, I was glad I got geocaches in two boroughs while on my solo trip.  There is a reason we don’t like big cities - even when not driving our big van.

We did go through Johnstown for a brief time this trip.  We visited my parents’ and grandparents’ graves, which are right behind the house I lived in as a child.  I didn’t find myself sad, just grateful to have had such wonderful memories in the area.  I had been thinking of my mother frequently as we drove the back roads of Pennsylvania, because she loved to drive back roads and “blow the stink off” as her mother used to say.   We were able to visit with my cousin this trip, not just a phone call.  My Uncle Roger wasn’t in town, or we would have visited him.

When we were in Ohio, a memory came back of museum that Roger had taken us to when I was 9 or 10.  Ernest Warther was a sculptor that did amazing things with a knife.  I knew the museum was near Canton, and we were going right by it (well considering the routes we usually take) and made it happen.  We decided that if I remembered it, it must be good, and we’re not disappointed.  I am sure that I appreciated his skill and artistry much more as a senior citizen than I did as a child.

Today is our 47th anniversary, and we are so grateful that we have been able to celebrate anniversaries in so many different, if not fancy or exotic, locations.  As we said often last year on our Alaska trip, “Pinch me to prove I’m not dreaming”.  We know we are blessed to be able to travel like we do, and remind ourselves every day to thank God for our lives together.

I just read what Kris has written, and honest, we didn’t plan on saying pretty much the same thing about our blessings.