What did you bring home?
Because of my dad’s job, most of my childhood summers were spent in the back seat of a sedan driving someplace across America.
I’m not sure I appreciated spending so much time with my family and seeing our great country much at the time.
I recall complaining my way across several state parks.
I know that I “read” the plaques at more museums than I can count or remember.
We were once charged by buffalo because dad wouldn’t get in the car quickly enough -- he wanted to wait for the perfect picture.
For hour after hour, I sat between my younger sister and brother (they had to be separated) on the clammy seats of my family’s latest used car.
And all I got was…..well, I didn’t even get the stereotypical “lousy t-shirt.”
I am convinced that my parents named me “Hanna” without the extra “h” so they didn’t have to buy me any premade souvenirs. Don’t get me wrong -- I have a great name that I have learned to appreciate more as a grew older. I like that it isn’t spelled like all the other “Hannahs” out there, but I just wanted one keychain, one magnet or one necklace with my name spelled my way.
Since I’ve gotten older, I’ve accumulated plenty of souvenirs, none with my name on them, but they are still amazing remembrances of my travels. Just looking up from this chair, I see a bowl made of African telephone wire, mounts of beautiful world-class fish, jewelry I designed from sapphires I mined in Montana, masks from New Orleans and even shells that I “smuggled” all the way from Tahiti. They didn’t smell good when I opened the suitcase, but it was totally worth it.
Although some visitors might see our house as organized chaos or consider us hoarders, I don’t care. Nothing is better than the memories of our adventures and the people we travel with.
I want to catch many other fish species but we are running out of wall space for additional fiberglass replicas. Fortunately, I will never run out of fingers and jewelry doesn’t take up much space, so there’s still plenty of accumulating left to go.