Living in (and living out) the legacy of the Great Adventure

A month ago, I penned these words with the intention of sharing them, but the days were full , the chaos of moving consumed my days, and this blog post remained tucked away. Now, however, as I embark on this new chapter with my family overseas and launch this blog to chronicle our experiences, I find it fitting to begin by anchoring myself and my upcoming travel experiences in the rich tapestry of my family's history and legacy. Through these pages, I hope to share not just my adventures but also the profound connection between my past and present, weaving a story that goes beyond borders and generations.

Written on June 8, 2023

Today is my Papoo’s 90th birthday. We are journeying through the rolling, green hills of West Virginia, venturing homeward to celebrate with him at a large family gathering we’ve planned months out. However, in the months since we began planning, my Papoo lost his second child, my Uncle, Tim. As we crest over each hill, my chest tightens, knowing what the weekend holds – and that we will also inter my uncle’s remains at the same cemetery where his sister, and my mother, rest.

Uncle Tim’s passing has prompted deep reflections on his life and the legacy he left behind. My cousin eloquently captured his spirit in her tribute. When I think of him, I remember carefree moments from childhood – of Uncle Tim throwing us into the air with abandon, spinning us around, and making us burst into fits of laughter after his inexhaustible tickle fights. As I grew older – it was the sly, recurring joke dropped brilliantly woven into a conversation at a family gathering - his constant humor, boisterous laughter, that permeated my memories. He had a steady presence and maintained a commitment to load up his whole family to be back with us in Kentucky as best he could, whether it be flying in from Hawaii to driving hours on end from Nebraska. Whenever he and his family arrived, the room came alight with his presence – but in a way that wasn’t cloying or attention-seeking. He was a steady, joyful presence in my life.

In my journaling and writing, I love the powerful work that juxtaposition and contrast can offer. There is such potential for reflection in having two sides of a dichotomy sit and face one another. And yet, here I am in this moment – coming to celebrate alongside my grandfather as we mourn his son, and the starkness of the apposition blazes with cruelty and leaves me angry. Trying to understand how you can ask a parent to see two children succumb to Alzheimer’s while you remain in this earthly life hollows out a void of Ecclesiastical meaningless. As I sit here in anger and confusion, I suppose I will have to let this cognitive dissonance be, at least for now.

For the past months I’ve been at a loss for words to express my grief over my Uncle’s going, especially in grappling with the reality that my grandparents, and his wife and children, are left behind to bear such pain. While the pain hasn’t fully subsided – last week I was re-listening to a song from the Broadway Show Kimberly Akimbo, which I was lucky to see back in December. The cast recently performed on NPR’s ‘Tiny Desk’ series, and in that session the songwriter spoke of the origination of the closing song ‘Great Adventure’ – which was grounded in her childhood memories from the 70’s – countless trips spanning years, loaded up in the back seat with her sister, headed off into the great, wild world.

In listening to Tesori recount her motivations to pen the song, I was immediately struck by the beauty, the legacy, the notion, and the resonance wrapped up in the idea of a family’s shared ‘Great Adventure.’ And specifically – I was drawn into my family’s history – of both my grandfather, Chris, and my uncle, Tim’s lives. I first saw Tim, my mother Barb, and Beth – loaded in the backseat – driving from Sacramento, to Montgomery, to Lexington, and everywhere in between, as their family embarked on adventure after adventure with each of Papoo’s new Air Force stations. And so continued Uncle Tim’s life – rich with hours of Donna, Jenni, Becky and Nick – the pendulum swinging between fits of laughter and bickering in the backseat – of tiny bodies riven with mirth and silly antics or slumped over, piled up on each other in fatigue, trekking hours to see family back in Kentucky.

Chris and Tim, both together, have been figureheads for our family. They have anchored and grounded us, while also giving us a steadiness to embark on new adventures, unafraid of the unknown. They taught us to live boldly and adventurously. I feel grateful, as I come together with my loved ones this weekend, to live within and to live out, their legacy of the great adventure.