An introduction

It is said that my grandfather, Dwight Weldy, had wanderlust – the tugging, nagging need to travel and explore the world. And the many photos and stories of car trips across the United States, jaunts through Europe and even temporary family relocations to the Philippines and Honduras are proof that his wanderlust was real.

So, I come by it honestly. It’s in my DNA, this need to see, taste, smell, hear, walk and touch the places that are not here, but there… and there… and there.

I’ve been fortunate throughout my life to be able to travel. Not always glamorous, but that doesn’t matter. Because wanderlust doesn’t call me to go anywhere fancy or first class. It just calls me to go.

My parents valued the experience of travel; so, from the time I was little, our family of six packed up for a week or so each summer, towing my grandparents’ camper trailer behind our gold Toyota Corona station wagon as we headed out to take in such exotic locales as Ames, Iowa, and Battle Creek, Michigan. (To be fair, we were fed and clothed on the salaries of a teacher and a nurse, and they did take us to Niagara Falls and the stunning National Seashore at Assateague Island.)

As I grew older, I took summer jobs in Chicago and Michigan; and as a college student, I was lucky to spend a month camping in the American Southwest as part of a photography class. These were all appetizers, whetting my perpetual desire to go someplace. To see and to “be” somewhere different.

And I’ve been even luckier as an adult to continue feasting in my gluttony of go. Sometimes for the sheer pleasure and getaway of it. Sometimes (and again, how lucky for me) because of my jobs. But even when it’s just a free hour post-meeting in New York City before a cab ride to LaGuardia or half a day in Paris after working a convention, my wanderlust compels me to walk the streets of these wonderful places in our world, breathe deeply the scents (and yes, sometimes stenches) and scenery of the cities, towns and countrysides that are not my home.

As the pandemic has frozen time, stalling most of us in place, I have tried to be patient and put into perspective that persistent tug and nag to travel. It is, I remind myself, a luxury, and I can wait. But as I wait, I want to think about the places I’ve been. Where my wanderlust and fate have taken me so far. So I’m going to indulge this nostalgia. In remembering where I’ve been, I have hope for where I might go next.