“The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page.”~ Saint Augustine.

I suppose when you are relocated from the UK to Jamaica at age seven, then return to the UK after high school to study Nursing, then migrate to the US after Nursing School, it should not be surprising that you love to travel.  At least that’s how it worked for me.  Although I can see how for some it could have an opposite effect, a desire to stay in one place and feel as if you belong.  I often joke that it was only when I landed in Miami that I felt as if I had found my people.  For most of my life I had tried to fit in.  In Jamaica, the only blond-haired white girl in school (for a while), I stuck out like a sore thumb.  In Nursing school I may have looked like a typical British girl, but I felt foreign, my accent wrong, my high school and country unknown.  In Miami 40 years ago it was hard to find someone who was born and grown here, almost everyone started out somewhere else.  So my story was no longer strange.

Once I arrived and got settled in Miami, travel was limited by several things – most notably getting married and having four children in the space of six years!  Although I longed to travel, I felt it was unfair to go anywhere without my kids, which meant we couldn’t go far, as disposable income was limited (those were the days of living paycheck to paycheck). It took me a few years to realize that if I stuck to my requirement of the whole family traveling, I may never leave this country! And in 1994 I returned to the UK without them, on the occasion of my parent’s golden wedding anniversary.

When first I traveled, I took along a blank book to use as a journal.  Somehow, I knew that my first impressions were significant, but they would diminish over time.  I wish I had jotted down my first impressions of Miami all those years ago.  Apart from huge cars and roads (this was before Jimmy Carter’s energy crisis, and the advent of compact cars), I remember the neon lights over every store also seemed very garish.  America was a land of plenty, of ostentation, of show-offness.  But the thing with first impressions is that they wear off over time, too soon our eyes, our senses become used to things, too quickly we adapt and accept.

Over the past few weeks we got to travel through quite a few states, to see a different side of the US.  After traveling to Tennessee we headed north to Connecticut, and listened to public radio for a while.  We were introduced to an American Jewish man who fell in love with reggae music and Rastafarianism in the 70’s.  He traveled to Jamaica and overstayed his visa while wandering across the island, sometimes on foot, sometimes by train, but getting to know the people and the place by being open to opportunities.  He ended up making reggae music his career, producing and publishing reggae artists on his RAS (Real Authentic Sound) label.  He even produced an album of reggae artists covering Bob Dylan songs! He calls himself Dr. Dread, and has written an autobiography. 

When we drove through New York City I realized I had forgotten how huge everything is.  So many people, so many buildings, so many skyscrapers.  But when going in and out of stores I also came across people who were friendly, who offered advice, who held doors open.  I applaud all those who live in the Big City – I know that my tastes are more for wide open spaces and less noise!

I grew up hearing the saying ‘It is better to travel hopefully, than to arrive’, but I have since heard one I like even better: ‘It is not where you are going, it is who you are traveling with’.  In this journey of life we are fortunate to meet kindred souls along the way, people with whom we connect and enjoy spending time with.  While in New York we attended our high school fund-raising dinner dance, and danced the night away with friends new and old.  In my case it is always relaxing to be among people who have known me and my family for decades, for then I don’t have to explain how I ended up being more Jamaican than English!

Recently I heard an interview with a therapist who specializes in mental health issues for people of color, especially those who are migrants.  She was describing the real challenges for those who have to navigate the religious and cultural aspects of mental illness, especially when there may be a real taboo against seeking help for depression, or for discussing your problems with strangers.  For the children of immigrants, it is particularly challenging, since they are straddling two cultures, and trying to appease parents while dealing with the stresses of American society.  Mental health therapists also may not be prepared for the cultural aspects, having been educated in a system that caters predominantly to white people.  For those who are in need, Brown Girl Therapy is her forum.

Listening to the therapist, I realized that everything she identified as being stressors for her clients, had in my case been blessings.  Growing up in a culture so different from my own taught me to respect the values and beliefs of people who may look superficially different, but with whom I had so much in common.  I learned to appreciate that there are more ways than one to view the world, and that no one culture should declare themselves to be superior to another.  In moving between cultures I could relate to so many people, which served me in my career as a nurse and then as an educator.  Although I appeared to have little in common with a Haitian student whose mother needed treatment for breast cancer in Haiti, I knew enough for her to feel she could confide in me, even as she tried to keep going with her studies. 

At this new phase of my life, retirement has given me the opportunity to travel more freely and with less restrictions.  Even if I don’t manage to complete my ‘bucket list’ (I actually don’t have one!) I hope I can see the world with new eyes, and see as much of nature as I can.  While traveling through the Great Smoky Mountains and seeing the Appalachian Mountain range, I remembered how much I love mountains.  Just yesterday discussing this with a friend she said yes, but the Jamaican mountains speak to you! Yes, I must admit, there is a special feeling from those Jamaican mountains who hug you, who show their beauty in the early morning when modestly covering their ridges and valleys with misty shawls, before the suns climbs over the top to cast long shadows as the world wakes up.

This Friday morning I hope you have fond memories of your childhood home, that even if you have traveled far you still have much to appreciate, and that your travel companions bring you joy.

Have a wonderful weekend, Family!

One Love!

Namaste.