Up the Family Tree



Destiny by Judy 

My husband was born in Tucumcari, New Mexico. Eight months earlier I was born in Kansas. While our births were no doubt life-changing events for both sets of parents, mine also decided that was a good year to take a three-week automobile trip to the west coast. So, early one August morning my mother and father, along with my grandmother, grandfather, and aunt set off in grandpa’s new Nash automobile.

There were no Pampers or car seats. The Nash did not have an air-conditioner either. The route to California, long-planned by Grandpa, was through the southwestern states. (Think soiled diapers in the back of a hot car trunk in August in the vast desert of the Southwest.) The trip continued up the Pacific coast through Oregon and Washington, then to Idaho to visit relatives. They returned home through the mountains of Colorado. Much planning and pouring over maps preceded the trip.

I’m told all went well on the trip except for one particular day. I had not cried much as I was held constantly by my mother, grandma or aunt. More surprisingly, I hadn’t broken out in a heat rash. Nights were spent in rented cabins where my mother washed my diapers which dried overnight. On the third day, however, for some reason the Nash developed a serious mechanical problem. My father was an excellent mechanic but either didn’t have the right tools, a needed part, or the know-how to fix the Nash.

Fast forward twenty-three years. My soon-to-be husband and I were talking with my parents. During the conversation my soon-to-be husband mentioned he was born in Tucumcari, New Mexico in August.

“What date?” my father asked.

“August 12, 1947,” my fiancé answered.

“Well, if that doesn’t beat all,” my father answered. “Your bride-to-be was in Tucumcari on August 12, of that year. We were on our way to California, and the Nash wouldn’t start that day. Took all day to get it fixed, too.”

My father then told us about the mechanical problem with the Nash and the long, hot summer day spent in Tucumcari. No doubt, it was one of the few mechanical problems that ever stumped my farmer/rancher/implement-dealer dad as some twenty-three years later he remembered the exact date, place and nature of the problem.

Shortly after my husband’s birth, his family moved to Kansas, and we met, married and raised our family in Kansas. Several years after the California trip, my aunt married, and she and her husband had five children. After all their children were grown, my parents and my aunt and uncle took many road trips together. I’m guessing, though, my mom and aunt commented on every trip that travel was much more pleasant without a pail of soiled diapers.