Our travels are in high gear now. Our days of leisurely plodding along on mountain highways are behind us. We are in visitation mode now. Having spent a few days with our son’s family, it was time to move on to our next stop. Avoca, N.Y., my wife’s hometown is a small village in western New York State. Her parents and all but one of her siblings live there.
It was over 30 years ago that I dragged her away from the nest, kicking and screaming.
I took her to the place she calls hell, Florida. She hates heat with a passion. She missed being near her family seeing new nieces and nephews growing, graduating, marrying. I have the utmost respect for her for going where her husband went and making it work. It was a selfless act of love on her part. I fear I could never measure up to that level of personal commitment. It is for this reason that I also relish our pilgrimages to the homeland. I know it gives her great joy and happiness.
We traveled on interstate highways from point A to point B. I hate interstates. There is nothing to see in most areas. Somehow they seem to pick the very worst scenic areas to route these things. Drive ten miles off the interstate and you enter a different land. All who have made such ventures know what I say is true.
After a couple of hours behind the wheel, Darlie agreed to take over. I feel confident enough of her ability to drive the old bread truck that I can actually take a nap. There is a sense of power sitting behind that wheel. I see it come over her face as she drives. You are big. People let you in when you decide to move over. Begrudgingly, perhaps, but they let you move.
Most of our trip was on busy congested highway. Turning onto I-86 in western Pennsylvania takes you into the very sparsely populated area along the New York/Pennsylvania border. The rolling hills are covered with various hardwoods giving them a soft bushy appearance. For a moment I realized those who live in the northwest would be as fascinated with this terrain as I was with the mountains whose slopes were covered in conifers.
Neat little farms surrounded with cultivated fields are scattered here and there along the way. Years ago farming was a major occupation in this area. Today many farms are no longer worked. Barns and old buildings stand in disrepair or have collapsed completely. The land has reverted to its former state. You can imagine smoke rising from an Indian village three or four centuries ago. Deer and game are plentiful. Steams run sparkling clear. This is a beautiful place.
Our plan had been to stop at a campground a couple of hours from Avoca. We would rest and arrive fresh in the morning. A call to one of the few campgrounds in the area put that plan in the trash can. They were filled for the weekend. Two other campgrounds on Chautauqua Lake were also filled. We decided to press on and surprise Darlie’s parents. They didn’t know when we were to arrive.
We have had an enjoyable weekend. The weather is very pleasant with sunny warm days and cool nights. Darlie’s sisters and brother have stopped by to gab and nibble at the endless supply of snacks Darlie’s mom supplies.
We visited Wallace Westlian Church for sunday service. They are a very mission minded church. They support several missionaries. They send groups to work in Haiti on rebuilding projects for the Westlyan Church. Along with taking pledges from the congregation for missions, they tithe the offerings that come into the church each service and designate it for missions. That is something we did when we pastored a church years ago. I felt if you want to teach the people tithing then the church ought to tithe also. We never fell short of meeting our expenses.
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