The very first trip away from home that I have a great recollection of was a trip to a family reunion in Oregon when I was four years old. Granted, this wasn’t my first trip away from home. I have been told about some instances in which my parents would take me out-of-town with them at a very young age. These, I understandably have little to no memory of.
The trip to and from the reunion was almost as big to me as the destination itself. I was with my great aunt and uncle for the trip. Instead of taking the direct and easy flight, they opted to take the train from Omaha to Sacramento, where we’d drive the remainder of the way to Rogue River, Oregon. After a few days at the reunion we’d drive to Portland to visit my Uncle George, then after a few days take the train back to Omaha.
We set out only a few days after the Fourth of July, 1994. I remember the segment of the trip taking us through Colorado the best. After getting through Denver, the train started into the Rocky Mountains. I can remember just being amazed to the degree a four year old would be as I saw snowpack in July. Throughout the day we would transverse tunnels, canyons and rivers and by evening we were racing through western Utah. As the week progressed I got to see the West Coast, even getting to take a trip out to the Pacific Ocean. Sadly however, I never got a chace to walk right up to the mighty sea.
Probably the biggest change I later realized was that I had a rare opportunity for my age, I got to see much more of the country than most people by that time and I felt very lucky for it.
