I grew up in a small town in Western Colorado, near the Utah border (could drive to Utah in 20 minutes. I never traveled outside of Colorado until the age of 19 when I flew (Rocky Mountain “scare-ways” so named because the prop jet flied low over the Rockies and created horrible turbulence). I learned to be afraid of flying.
I decided I wanted to travel after I graduated from high school (a real feat for me, since I was a teen mom to a beautiful daughter during a time when doing so was up there with murder or grand larceny). The first thing I did was to buy a set of second-hand luggage from a used goods store. That’s what I do, it seems, buy the thing that will support what I want to do. Later on I bought furniture that was much too large for the home my family lived in, but we later built that house and put the furniture in it.
I still didn’t make it out of Colorado until the age of 21 or so; I only flew back and forth to Denver.
When anyone asked me what I wanted to do, what my goals were, I said: to get a college degree, to own a home for me and my daughter, to get married, and to travel. I have done all these things and more, and I’m a happy woman.
I didn’t really travel until I was 30 years old, and then it was for work. I overcame my fear of flying and decided that traveling for work wasn’t all that exciting.
When I met my husband (my current one; the first one was successful in giving me a second lovely daughter), he wanted to travel. And, off we went. We traveled the U.S., Hawaii, then overseas. I felt guilty at first. It seemed frivolous and selfish, but I soon realized that it also bought possibilities to my children (at least I hope so).
My husband taught me to travel really, to not be afraid of it, and that travel broadens a person’s horizons in all senses of the word.
I also have a love of reading and writing.
My 3-book mystery series about travel is due out later in 2026, published by Level Best Publishing.
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