Everyone loves a good vacation there’s no doubt about that but for me, if it lasts less than 3 months then it’s just a quick getaway. I love being on the road for the long haul. You’re meeting new people every day, you can change the scenery on a whim, it’s total freedom with your only commitment being to you and your adventure. As I’ve stated, most people like a good trip but the urge to return to a life of stability and routine is that much stronger. There’s nothing wrong with this and I sometimes wish I could be like that but I’m not. I once had a co-worker tell me it took a lot of courage to give up a well paying job, sell off everything and hit the road with my only possessions being what was on my back but I disagree. The real courage comes in going to work on a daily basis, paying off that mortgage, getting the kids to soccer practice and scanning the newspaper for coupons. My desire to travel comes from a cowardly reluctance to face the music, grow up and take on real responsibility.

But how did I get to be like this when so many people aren’t? I point the finger at my parents. The same people who ask me why I can’t just settle down are the ones responsible for making me the way I am. Let me give you a run down on Jack and Fran Thibodeau, the culprits responsible for my unwillingness to invest in RRSP’s and a house.

My mother Frances (she’s the one second from the right) grew up in small outport village in the province of Newfoundland. If there ever was a place where expectations were to marry, have children and settle down then this was it. Her brothers and sister have all settled down in Newfoundland, raised families and stayed close to their roots. Not mom though. At 19 she hopped a train to St. Johns where she and a friend were supposed to catch a flight to Toronto to study nursing. At the last minute her friend took ill and couldn’t make the trip but that didn’t deter Fran for a second. She got on the flight, her first ever, and arrived in Toronto a few hours later as sick as a dog from the trip. She stayed with her Aunt and Uncle for a week before getting a job at the hospital and setting herself up in residence where she shared an apartment with two other girls. Out of all her friends and family she was the one to leave town. Now keep in mind Wesleyville is a pretty remote place that had only just gotten a road around the same time this photo was taken so it must have been a daunting adventure for a young girl to take but she persevered and settled in Toronto.

On the other side we have Jack, my father. Like my mother he was the only family member to up and leave his home town but it must have been more of a challenge for him as he was from Quebec and could hardly speak English when he moved away.  Jacks desire was to be a pilot so he packed up one day and joined the Canadian Air Force. While he never became a pilot he has probably logged more hours than most. After basic training he was posted to Toronto where he eventually met mom and the two of them hit it off, got married and had me.

I was born in Toronto but by the time I was 6 months old I had been to Quebec, Newfoundland, France and Belgium. You see pops got posted overseas and thus began a lifetime of moving from place to place every 3 to 4 years. I had a brother born in France, another born in Germany and by the time I was 5 I had  been to 4 provinces and 5  countries. Now in my 40’s I’ve been to around 30 countries and haven’t even scratched the surface of what I want to see.

So there’s a history to this love of travel and it all stems back to two, young adventurous people who had the courage to pack up and leave their stable, quiet towns for a life of adventure. I don’t think they purposely chose to be adventurous they just never shied away from it either. Now that they’re older and settled down you’d think they would have changed but they haven’t. They thought nothing of moving from B.C. to Manitoba a few years back and just last year, in their 60’s, they hit the road with my Aunt and Uncle camping their way across eastern Canada. When I say camping I mean camping. They don’t own an RV, they slept in tents.

So you see it’s not odd that I can’t sit still in fact what’s even more odd is that my two brothers have managed to settle down and raise families. Maybe someday I’ll calm down as well but for now the horizon is still down the road and I haven’t quite reached it yet. How I feel about settling down is best summed up by one of my favorite poets, Henry Lawson, in a poem called The Wander-Light.

“For my ways are strange ways and new ways and old ways,
And deep ways and steep ways and high ways and low;
I’m at home and at ease on a track that I know not,
And restless and lost on a road that I know.”