The morning of July 17 marked another transition in my journey. After several busy and memorable days with Annie in Washington, D.C., I left the city and headed toward Philadelphia—but not before making a very special family stop along the way.
I went to visit my cousin Beth. Beth wasn’t simply another stop on the itinerary. She was one of those cousins who had occupied a special place in my childhood. Our fathers were the younger siblings in their generation, Beth and I were relatively close in age compared with some of your older cousins. That proximity helped create a particularly natural connection when we were growing up. And sometimes, decades later, you discover that those childhood connections haven’t really disappeared.
A simple visit that meant a lot
Beth welcomed me into her home and made a delicious sandwich and chips—nothing elaborate, but somehow exactly the kind of hospitality that makes a family visit memorable.
She gave me a wonderful tour of her home, sharing her space and a little bit of her life with me. Perhaps most special of all, she introduced me to two of her granddaughters.
That added another dimension to the visit. I wasn’t simply reconnecting with my cousin from childhood; I was meeting the next generation of family. There is something uniquely moving about that experience on a long road trip. You are traveling thousands of miles, seeing remarkable places and meeting people along the way, yet sometimes a relatively short family visit can become one of the moments you remember most.
The perfect bridge in the journey
The timing of Beth’s visit made it even more meaningful.
I had just spent several days with Annie in Washington—helping around her home, exploring the monuments, enjoying French food and ramen, and sharing time together.
Now, before continuing north to Philadelphia to see my son Austin and his wife, Emily, I paused with family again. It created a wonderful progression: Annie → Beth → Austin & Emily. Three different relationships, three different kinds of connection, all woven into the same stretch of my journey. The visit with Beth provided something that the sightseeing and miles couldn’t provide: a connection to my family history and my childhood. And the realization that someone who had been one of my favorite cousins growing up was still an important part of my life decades later.
Then it was back into the truck and onward toward Philadelphia.
My 160-day journey was becoming more than a tour of America. It was becoming a tour through my own history—reconnecting with people and places that helped shape the person making the journey. Sometimes, on a journey this long, the most meaningful destinations aren’t marked on a map. They’re marked by the people waiting for you when you arrive.