Air Letter From England, 1961
My solution to 'mother angst' was simple: I would send her a postcard every day. She would recieve them several weeks later, but they would be coming more or less consistently, thus allaying her worst fears. Unfortunately, had I been kidnapped by white slavers, this would hardly be current, but it kept her off my back. My mother, a classic packrat, saved every postcard, and every letter. I found them when I was visiting Winnipeg and rummaging through some old boxes. I was delighted to recall the adventures of the novice traveller.
The challenge is, is to remember where and when, But these early letters express the beginning of what became my dromomania and islomania.
I get stuck when I write down the places. I can't remember where I went in what years. I have to go to my recent photo albums and read the dates on my photos. Then I remembered it's not just the photos. There are the letter and postcards I wrote when I first left home to travel back in 1961. Those were the days when airmail was an expensive way to communicate - we wrote tight little letters on pale blue, tissue thin, pre-stamped 'aerograms' Each country had their own design, and I delighted in putting as much as I could on its foldup, one sheet page. Long distance phone calls cost a fortune and mothers went mad worrying about their 21 year old daughters wandering aimlessly through Europe on their own, clutching the latest travel guide 'Europe on $5 a Day' to their breasts. And in those post war days it was possible to exist... to eat and sleep and tour around for even less than that.
My solution to 'mother angst' was simple: I would send her a postcard every day. She would recieve them several weeks later, but they would be coming more or less consistently, thus allaying her worst fears. Unfortunately, had I been kidnapped by white slavers, this would hardly be current, but it kept her off my back. My mother, a classic packrat, saved every postcard, and every letter. I found them when I was visiting Winnipeg and rummaging through some old boxes. I was delighted to recall the adventures of the novice traveller.
The challenge is, is to remember where and when, But these early letters express the beginning of what became my dromomania and islomania.
3 comments:
I think its dromomania, not dromophobia.
PS. My mother did the same thing. A few years back she gave me a packet of letters and cards I'd sent on my first trip. Made fascinating reading.
Elain
o.k. now I'm down with your blog--so sorry about the leg accident--but you seem to have made the best of it with your usual elan. The blog is really wonderful--a great combination of text and of course your wonderful sketches. Haven't even thought about the South Pacific yet, but you've got me excited...
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