As I look back on my childrearing years, one of the things I’m glad I did was to send my kids away from home. It gave my kids more independence and adventures than my husband and I could give them while we were busy with our jobs. Other than a few camp experiences, I mostly sent the children to see their grandparents. They had great times with both sets of grandparents, times of freedom and exploration.
From the time the kids were old enough to be “unaccompanied minors,” my husband and I put them on a plane to visit my parents for a couple of weeks each summer. During my kids’ childhood, my parents migrated from Bellevue, Washington, to Richland, Washington, to Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, and the children visited my folks in each of their homes. During these visits, my parents spent time with my kids baking cookies, swimming in the pool, and traveling around the Pacific Northwest.
As a result, both my children love the West, for which I am grateful because that region still feels like home to me. The kids are Missourians by birth (sixth generation on my husband’s side of the family, I think), and they feel an affinity for the state where they grew up. But my daughter has chosen to make her home in Seattle, and my son travels to the West when he can (though he rotates between Chicago, D.C., and New York to live). They wouldn’t be the people they are today without the trips they took with my parents around the Pacific Northwest.
Today’s random photos are from one of the summer trips my kids went on with my parents—this one focused on Oregon. I’m guessing the year was about 1992, though I say that only judging by the fact that my daughter had her permanent front teeth (making her about seven) and my son was not yet as tall as my mother (which happened about the time he was eleven).
Apparently, they stayed at a cabin in the woods for at least a day or two and toured a fish hatchery along the way. They also went to one of my parents’ favorite places in Oregon—Crater Lake National Park. My mother talked frequently of trips to Crater Lake when she was growing up in Klamath Falls, Oregon. My parents took my siblings and me to Crater Lake also. So when my kids also saw the island in the lake, that made three generations laying down similar memories of this gorgeous location.
The memories behind the pictures posted here are not my memories; they are my children’s. But I’m glad they have the memories. And I’m glad my parents took the time to escort these unaccompanied minors around the Pacific Northwest.
What memories do you have of times with your grandparents?
Actually, my grandparent memories is of our grandson coming to live with me/us from the time he was little. The first time was when I lived Washington DC and he was two. And that kept up through Santa Fe when he was eight years old, and then Kansas City. Every summer, he was with me, and then Cliff and me until he entered the Navy.
Its lasting memories for all of us. He told me once he was lucky to always have three parents and then four. And now he’s a Dad.
Janet, thanks for the grandparent’s perspective. I think these visits are special times for both generations.
Theresa
I went to my mother’s parents every summer on a farm in SW Missouri to avoid contact with people who might have polio. I learned to milk cows, churn butter, and bake pies there.
Sally, you may not milk cows or churn butter any more, but you still bake pies!
Theresa
I had only a grandma who died when I was 9, and she was very sick since I was six and a half. I remember when she was drawing to me, I think I was about 4 when was asking her to draw. How I was five and a half and I was running out to play with the other children, and she came with her cane to take me home…
Marina, it’s nice that you have even these few memories of your grandmother. I can sense the love between you in what you wrote.
Theresa