No cell phone. No email. No credit card. No itinerary.
That’s how I went to Europe with a couple girlfriends the summer I was 19. I had a suitcase, a Eurail pass, and a vague idea of where we were going. The plans changed daily; Air France lost my suitcase; at least I hung onto the Eurail pass.
The only way to communicate with me was to send a letter to an American Express office in a city we might hit at some point.
My mother had just died of cancer the year before….still my father didn’t hesitate to give his blessing (and money) for my trip.
I called home once. I had planned to stay in Europe all summer, but decided to add a week in Israel. This wasn’t part of the deal, and I wanted my dad’ s okay. And I needed it quickly, I told him from the phone in Rome’s airport, because “the flight is already boarding.”
He told that story for years.
The story had a different ring to me once I became a mother……..The world’s most neurotic mother. I remember asking my father how he could do it—could let me go off on my own, not knowing where I was. He smiled…. “Someday you’ll do it, too. I always knew you could take care of yourself.”
I think about this as I watch Daniel pack up for 5 months in Argentina. He’s responsible; he’s ready; I’m excited for him to have this adventure. Though I joke about it, I’m not really worried. Still I feel a sense of loss. He steps forward and I step back.
The first time Daniel went somewhere alone, he was 10, going to summer camp in Maine where he didn’t know a soul. He and I flew to New York, and stayed overnight near the school where the bus would be picking up all the campers the next morning. Suddenly, the separation felt real.
I didn’t want to humiliate both of us and make a scene at the bus—so I told Daniel we’d say goodbye now, in advance. I was trying (not very successfully) not to cry. My 10-year old son calmly put his arms around me. “Mommy, don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself.’
I wish his grandfather was still around, so I could tell him he was right.
Bob Beers says
Lovely, Lovely story. Carrie was older about 21 when she decided to backpack thru Europe for 6 weeks, then 2 months. Decided to go to Turkey where a boy slept outside the hostel to ask her out each morning. She is, as she says 5’12” and the Turkish boy was maybe 5’2″. Not interested, even when he cried when she said no. There were many stories as your kids have no doubt told you similarly scary, but all much better when you hear them once they’re back home. I envy Daniel, Argentina is one of my very true favorite places on earth. The tango will soon be in soul.
Darryle Pollack says
I’m sure he’ll come back with the tango in his soul—and some great stories—- hopefully not as scary as some of mine when I was his age.
Argentina sounds so wonderful, can’t wait to go visit.
Manuel Alvarez says
Deliciously tender,
Darryle Pollack says
Thank u!
Duchess says
I did the Europe thing with the rail pass at 19 too. But I had mostly been looking after myself for years by then, and it was on my money.
Daniel will be fine! He’ll be gone for a little while, and then you will visit, and then he will be home.
But don’t go via the Faulkland Islands! You might get caught up in a war.
Alice Young says
Still catching up with your posts; this one brought tears to my eyes. Good old days were when we cabled for money and got it very eventually at Western Union….
Ah, the worried Mom. Payback was when our daughter was in college. Tom and I went to the movies and dinner and forgot to turn our cellphones back on. Phone ringing off the hook when we got home late that night-our daughter frantic, worried and scolding us for not being reachable. If I could count the sleepless teen years (me, not the teens….). I’ll bet Daniel has already called several times. Hugs, Alice
Darryle Pollack says
Funny to think back on what it was like for us–and how we all managed with much less communication and much more rope. Though somehow it seems as if having less constant contact back then meant much less worry. Which as Alice says, goes both ways.