My parents never placed great emphasis on having things.  We were far from impoverished, but I grew up knowing that we wouldn’t have the newest and latest gadget or toy.  The car I drove throughout high school was fondly nicknamed “The Beast,” largely because it was old, rusty, and muffler-less.  Our go-to cups for my niece and nephews are the cleaned out Kraft cheese spread glass containers from the many cheese balls my mom has made over the years.  Our compost buckets are emptied out ice cream pails and it is a struggle to remember a time when my parents let me throw away food from my supper plate.

Although these stories of my thrifty parents are nothing compared to my grandparents’ stories (the masters of frugal living, I believe), it was different from the way that many others in my generation grew up.  I am at the younger end in my family and so most of my high school friends had parents who were significantly younger.  Depending on how you break up generations, my older siblings could belong to a different generation than me.  Whatever the reason, I grew up knowing that things can provide only so much happiness. Continue reading “In Defense of Travel” →