Joan Randall a Woodstock resident set out on a journey to “Discover America” she has agreed to share her stories with the readers of the Vermont Standard.
These are her stories.
So typical of me to over pack. Thank goodness for my friends. I can always count on them for honesty. Diana, my fashion consultant, scanned the mounds of clothes I was determined to fit into 6 cubicles. She helped me to see clearly I did not need 4 sweatshirts and 6 sweaters, all serving the same purpose, 2 would do! On the day of my departure, friends stopped in for final goodbyes. How fortunate for me to have such a wealth of friendship with genuine concern. It’s nearing 4 p.m., spring does not seem to be coming, a cold wet snow and rain is falling, an easy time to depart Vermont without looking back. Our first stop, Basking Ridge, NJ, to stay with dear friends and in regal comfort I might add.
I have two goals on this journey, to drive no more than five hours at a stretch and to follow the sun. The latter may prove to be challenging as the weather continues to predict violent storms moving across our continent. As we drive down Rte 91S, the snow quickly dissipates and soon I am looking at sunshine and actual green, yes green lawns are emerging as I travel through Connecticut, the state of my childhood. For 24 years I have traveled this path to visit my parents, they have since passed on. As I approached the exit of my childhood home there in the sky was a rainbow, somehow I just knew this was a nod from my dad, the one who gave me this gift of wanderlust. I also began to chuckle as I compared the two trips, now, one person, one dog, packed to the rim. How times have changed, in 1972, we were two adults and two children in a pick-up truck and many a time we sat four across in that bench seat. How simply we must have lived and with so much fewer possessions then what we feel is necessary now.
My mind also wandered to rush hour traffic, I left at 4:30 p.m., only in Vermont can you do that without concern. By 5:30 I was lucky if I saw any cars in my rear-view mirror. Well, if only I could see out my rear-view mirror, my gear is packed to the roof, but the side-view mirrors proved few cars in sight.
All Bode’s well –
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