My Grandparents’ Fears

Yesterday, I spent some time sketching travel plans to continue working on my daughter’s quest for the Texas County Challenge and Texas Two Step. While she directs which way we go, I’m still in command of the little details such as routing and daily county capacity. If she is the CEO of this project, I am the COO. In my capacity as COO, I try to forecast where we might go when we get to certain areas. I also have my own agendas. I am working on the Two Step myself (I wasn’t gonna, but I might as well now). I’m also working on other challenges that require me to get certain caches in certain places. Therefore, I fold my cache desires with her cache needs, and we both get what we want.

So yesterday, as previously mentioned, I was sketching out some travel plans to continue our journeys, this time south of L-Town towards the Houston/Beaumont area. As I looked at these counties, I realized something: I don’t want to go back to some of these places at all. More to the point, I don’t want to take my daughters to these places. I don’t want to take them to Jasper County for fairly obvious reasons. I had a less-than-wonderful experience there, and though they won’t carry the same baggage as I did, I still don’t want to expose them to it, even if it’s just brushing up against horrible history. Yes, they may encounter it in a book or on the Intertubes (I know the cacher reads this drivel from time to time, so she’ll eventually read this), but that’s different from being in the place where it happened. I was further disappointed by how many routes through the area took us through Vidor as well. I know its reputation has gotten better, but I still want to avoid even driving through it. I wonder if this is the same thing my grandparents felt when I wanted to go somewhere they knew had a history of danger for Black people; I have no doubt they would have spent a lot of time worrying about the places I’ve been.

I also realize part of the reason I have this feeling is that I want to go on a road trip so badly and I’m not enthused about my options in that regard. If I were to try and slip in a trip before the end of the year (and believe you me, I’ve been thinking about it), I can’t go north because winter means snow, and I am not the one for driving in that. I can’t really go west because it’s around thirteen hours to anything new for me (specifically Bisbee in Cochise County, which I’ve been to, but I haven’t been to the county seat) with lots of driving and very few counties to look forward to. That means going east, and while I’d really like to do that, I really don’t want to do that right now. Yes, there are lots of counties ripe for the plucking in close proximity to one another, but the memories of stories I’ve been told and things I’ve read give me pause. I know I’ve been to places with questionable histories already. Am I ready for the sanctum sanctorum of racial discomfort? I know not everywhere will be problematic: the Jackson area should be safe enough (their water issues notwithstanding), and Huntsville and anything near Pensacola should be all right. I certainly wouldn’t make it as far as Atlanta or Jacksonville. I want to go because I’ll be damned to heck before I let anyone tell me where I can and can’t go, but Grandpa and Grandma are telling me I shouldn’t. And Grandfather and Grandma Grover would no doubt say the same.

I’m going to go to (or back to) all these places eventually. We all know this. Most of the things I’m worried about are relics of a mostly bygone past. But voices from the past are holding me back. Well, maybe not holding me back, but definitely slowing me down.