After they’d been married for 25 years, my parents went on their first real vacation. They went to Hawaii, but they didn’t loll around at the beach. Instead, they toured Hawaiian agricultural sites, because that’s what farmers do. When they leave their own farm, they often visit someone else’s.
My parents weren’t travel averse. It’s just that it took 25 years of farming and family raising for them to be able to leave the farm. By then my older brother was farming with my Dad, those of us who were next in age were helping with farm work, and the youngest among us were old enough to be left in their older siblings’ care for a few days.
Once Mom and Dad started travelling, they made up for lost time. Beginning in the 1980s, my Dad served on the board of directors for Land O Lakes and Federal Land Bank. Mom often accompanied him when he’d head out of state for a board meeting. These mini-trips often involved a hotel stay for the two of them, a nice dinner and socializing with the other board members and their spouses, and shopping excursions for Mom.
During the ’80s and ’90s their travel included trips to Arizona to visit relatives, tours of Germany and Austria, bus trips to Branson, Missouri, a jaunt to the Alaska State Fair, and even a few visits to Iowa to see my family and me.
However, by the time their 50th wedding anniversary arrived, their long distance travels were over. Their final vacation was a fall colors bus tour of New England. They weren’t tired of travelling, but Dad’s Parkinson’s disease had progressed to the point where leaving home was just too difficult. Then Mom was diagnosed with cancer. Their last trips were to visit their doctors at the local medical center. Not the type to complain, they accepted this as the next phase of their combined journey.
Mom died in 2004 and Dad died only a year and two weeks later. In death as in life they were travelers together.
*** To Donald and Marguerite, united in marriage September 28, 1950 ***