Staying Grounded (from Travel)

Road trips lead to weariness—and a new website

At 3 a.m, my father poked five little bodies awake. We traipsed through the darkened hallways lucky to even stand on our own two feet let alone brush our teeth. In a forced march with eyes closed, we climbed into the back of the tan Suburban and nestled those same warm chunks of flesh into our sleeping bags. The dull roar of the engine rocked us back to sleep.

Summer travel had begun.

I think back to those days now, how anxious my parents were to show us around the great states. Like any traveler, we cheered for the signs “Welcome to” with no real knowledge of the boundaries we crossed.

Road trip to Idlewild Park, Ligonier, PA. Dad, Jeanne, Paul, Beth, Annette. Also, Aunt Joan and her daughter, Michael Ann.

We learned plenty about the history of Gettysburg, Pittsburgh, Washington D.C., the Liberty Bell, Williamsburg, and Florida. But not much about the people living there.

I’ve been on the road alot lately. A result of four adult children living out of state, a niece who graduated high school, the wedding of a friend’s son, a trip to help out my daughter-in-law who conveniently lived in Oregon. I had learned enough about the residents I was there too see, enough to know they were progressing as humans.

I too was anxious on each of those trips. Mostly to return home.

Writers like their routines (though we often break them too). I like my friends. I’m not an all night partier. I don’t have many circles of friends, I have links. Like a figure eight, laying sideways. I wanted time to focus on them. On my relationships with them which so often get pushed aside for the needs and obligations of family or work. These bonds with male and female friends inform me, tell me who I am in the world when I’m lost. Who I am to the world when I want to found.

In the New Yorker, Agnes Collard wrote a controversial piece titled The Case Against Travel. Her premise was how, in travel, we often can become the worst version of ourselves while convincing us that we’re at our best. As much as we speak of what we discovered about new locales, we have changed a place through our mere presence. Which is sometimes for the better. Other times, well, consider the person who wrote on the Coliseum walls. “I admit with deepest embarrassment that it was only after what regrettably happened that I learned of the antiquity of the monument.” What part of the colossal stone giant did he believe was new? Are travelers really curious about those who live where they are vacationing or more interested in posting later on Instagram? In Positano, they banned selfies. They didn’t want to have to cordon off every inch of their walkways which might lead someone to an early cruise on the high seas and actually force an Italian into rescue action amidst their summer break. Or the Italians wanted the tourists to simply be there, a requirement for anyone who spends a minute in their country.

I’ve thought alot about Agnes’ piece. I’ve have plenty of opportunity and the privilege to travel worldwide and often feel I’ve become that travel as a personality person. And I guess there’s plenty of room to debate travel versus vacation versus voyeur. I can even justify the need to be on the road to see our kids or relations. But at a recent social outing, I returned home and said to Mark, “I’m tired of hearing about traveling. And worse, talking about it myself.” I wasn’t sure what people gleaned from their visits. Or what I did. At such peripheral levels, talk consisted of going here and there, checked out this place, did this and that. We were so stuck watching reruns of each other’s proverbial slide shows played on a torn gray screen in a 1970s basement, we all missed the deep dive.

Note the Suburban. Photo credit: JJ.

When we took road trips with my parents, the Triptik and tour books offered us some depth, as well as wrong turns. We learned which counties shuffled the deck and dealt speeding tickets for anyone with an out-of-town plate, as they might have done to a black person, or someone else in a wrong place. Nothing will teach you more about somewhere than a little criminal accusation. Or when you entered a Days Inn restaurant/coffee shop in the late 70s, and someone wrote aigs—not eggs—on the breakfast menu chalkboard. My mother, the prodigious speller, looked on horrified. A shudder ran up and down her spine. We laughed about it for ages, and whether she served up scrambled or sunny proteins on Sundays, we definitely asked for aigs.

But aigs belied something deeper. A shift in culture and beliefs. Our inability to understand that, to explore that, to run right past it, belied something deeper too. Perhaps that’s what the author was reaching for.

What kinds of things make us stop in our tracks, realize we have left the comforts of home? What is charming, and what is real? And what do we find upon we return?

A speeding ticket from Italy, for sure. A few shipped bottles of wine? Yes. A sore throat that wasn’t strep or Covid. A tired lost voice for a bit. But also, a little grounding. A little hope that we’ve grown, even if a half-inch in our hearts or heads. Or better, a recognition that to grow, one must shore up the roots at home.

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One must also re-launch their website when it looks outdated. Thanks to the spectacular Lauren of Spectrum Design for this work. The look of it feels like me, the palette a tip toward my favorite colors, the tiles with a nod to my Italian roots. Check it out for sneak peak of Something Italian. In the interim, I’m dining with friends, sitting lakeside with our feet dangling over the edge, cooking like an Italian for them, and waiting in the wings for a few to free up so we can play!

I’m writing like fire. And tending a little bit of work too:

July

Everyone Has a Cousin in Ohio appeared in the Cleveland-based, Italian newspaper, La Gazzetta.

August 1

Pauletta Hansel and I again are offering our quarterly FREE, virtual caregiver writing experiences, through Giving Voice Foundation. Next up, August 1st from 1-3 p.m. Learn more or register here. This program continues November 8.

August 12-15

Mark and I scouted out the Bocce Classic in Dayton at the John Pirelli Lodge. We’re in for next year. With teams like Here for the Meatballs and Squadra dei Sogni (Dream team), we’re mulling team names. Needless to say, we’ll have an obligatory Irish guy on ours.

Next up? If you’re looking for the best Italian festival in Ohio, look no further than the Feast of the Assumption Festival in Cleveland’s Little Italy. I’ll be there eating cavatelli and cannoli. And looking for more bocce tips. More info.

October

During the week of October 16th, I’ll be presenting I’ll Have Some of Yours (the long-delayed book tour has begun) at various Promedica/Arden Courts locations around Cleveland. Visit my website for specific locations.

October 20

Speaking of…The Italian American Museum in Little Italy, Cleveland, will host Waking the Ancestors (through story), a two-hour writing workshop to explore our Italian American ancestry that has informed and inspired who we are. Check back for updated details or visit https://iamcle.org/ for more information.

Let’s stay in touch!