This is posted on several of A Cottage by the Sea blog topics. It seems to speak to all of them.
I'm loving Look for Me There; Grieving My Father, Finding Myself, Luke Russert's memoir about his recent solitary travels around the world, taken to come to terms with the sudden death of his beloved father, Tim Russert (anchor of NBC's Meet the Press) and to more forward with his own life. It took Luke eight years after his fathers fatal heart attack to garner the awareness that he needed time to grieve, and, the courage set out on his own and face the future.
I love this book because I resonate with Luke's solitary travel. I am reading it with satisfaction that although I have embraced traveling alone, my reasons for doing so are not the same as Luke's. I started traveling alone as a pioneer of junior year abroad programs--no cell phone, and complicated telephoning possibilities. Writing letters was the way my family and I communicated, and as you might imagine, those letters, at best, passed in the air every three or so weeks. I was on my own, figuring out how to get from Paris to the place I was staying in Rome before heading to Florence.
Worrying was not a part of growing up in the fifties; my parents weren't worried about the year-long adventure I was taking, nor was I. At am early age, still in my teens, I learned to figure things out. I can still do that, and without worry. As an older person, what a beautiful way to feel, a beautiful reason to keep traveling.
I'm loving Look for Me There; Grieving My Father, Finding Myself, Luke Russert's memoir about his recent solitary travels around the world, taken to come to terms with the sudden death of his beloved father, Tim Russert (anchor of NBC's Meet the Press) and to more forward with his own life. It took Luke eight years after his fathers fatal heart attack to garner the awareness that he needed time to grieve, and, the courage set out on his own and face the future.
I love this book because I resonate with Luke's solitary travel. I am reading it with satisfaction that although I have embraced traveling alone, my reasons for doing so are not the same as Luke's. I started traveling alone as a pioneer of junior year abroad programs--no cell phone, and complicated telephoning possibilities. Writing letters was the way my family and I communicated, and as you might imagine, those letters, at best, passed in the air every three or so weeks. I was on my own, figuring out how to get from Paris to the place I was staying in Rome before heading to Florence.
Worrying was not a part of growing up in the fifties; my parents weren't worried about the year-long adventure I was taking, nor was I. At am early age, still in my teens, I learned to figure things out. I can still do that, and without worry. As an older person, what a beautiful way to feel, a beautiful reason to keep traveling.
