traveling alone

Childless stand out when surrounded by children

Sue Fagalde Lick childless, childless and baby pictures, envying families with children, family as code for children, traveling alone , , , , , , , , ,

Dear friends:

I live in a childfree bubble. I had to get away from my home on the Oregon coast to see that. Where I live, hanging out mostly with people over 60, I just don’t see a lot of children. Sure, my friends will show off photos of their grandkids, and sometimes they jet off to spend time with them, but day to day, no kids.

Traveling around the Southwestern United States has shown me what many of you see as you negotiate your childless lives wherever you live. 

I’m currently staying in Santa Fe, New Mexico. There are kids everywhere, in the restaurants, in the hotel elevator, dominating the swimming pool, and at every tourist attraction. In this multicultural city, children of every color follow their parents and siblings like ducks. 

Last night at a JC Penney restroom, four kids and their mother filled all the stalls, yelling to each other in Spanish, voices amplified by the tile walls. I encountered the same children in the dressing room, banging on doors and laughing as I tried on pants. I wanted to scream at them and tell them to behave. 

Mean old gringa lady. 

I want to be the nice elderly woman children love, but sometimes I feel more like a witch. I’m just not used to kids. 

I spent a few days in Tucson, Arizona, staying with a cousin at her deluxe retirement home. While she was at church, I tried to write. An electronic photo frame nearby kept changing pictures, almost all of them of my cousin’s only grandchild. Cute kid, even more precious because she was adopted after her parents could not conceive, but I got tired of looking at her. If I had my own children, would I have that warm squishy feeling mothers seem to get when they see little ones, the feeling I get with dogs? 

My cousin’s daughter and granddaughter visit often. They travel together. The daughter helps with financial and technical things. When she moved to this home, the daughter and two stepsons did most of the work. 

When she told me that, I kept silent, but I was thinking, gee that must be nice. If/when I decide to move to a home for old folks, I’ll be doing the work myself or paying someone to help. 

As I struggled to sleep on the child-sized big-girl bed in the guest room, with toys stashed in the closet and under the bed, I felt like a perpetual child myself. 

I’m not complaining. Just noticing. My life is so very different. I’m obsessed with my writing and music; they’re obsessed with their families. They have Christmas photos of the whole gang in matching pajamas. I have selfies or pictures of my dog. 

If you are childless and find yourself in a culture where everyone seems to have children, you may find yourself not mentioning your childless state unless asked directly about your kids. You keep it to yourself, aware that saying you never had children can be like saying you’re a Democrat in a room full of Republicans. What? You never had children? They may not say it out loud, but now you’re branded as the childless one. You’re definitely the odd one if you’re traveling alone like me.

As I signed the guest book at a museum the other day, I noticed all the visitors before me were family groups, the Smiths, the Fisher family, etc. I saw no other single names. I signed my name, paid my donation, and moved on. What else can you do? 

Yesterday morning in Albuquerque, I found a seat away from the crowd in the breakfast room and watched the traffic go by. So many mothers, fathers, and kids, the children following like sheep or bounding ahead demanding pancakes or Lucky Charms. The parents could not relax with their own food because they had to help the kids, but I don’t think they minded. They moved and ate as a family. Later, they left the hotel rolling their big and little suitcases, and it looked so nice to be part of a family. 

But oh, my tea and my cinnamon roll slathered with butter tasted so good. I didn’t have to worry about anyone else as I finished quickly and hurried upstairs to write undisturbed.

Outside the elevator, I ran into a couple with a gorgeous German shepherd that dashed up to sniff me. She knew I was a dog mom, not a mother of little humans. I wanted to bury my face in her lush fur.

I am learning so much on this trip, part work and part vacation. 

Sometimes you can’t get away from the big division between you and the parenting people. It isn’t always a bad thing, but it is a thing. 

Are you surrounded by children where you live? Or do you find them when you travel? How does it make you feel? Let’s talk about it in the comments.

The Childless Elderwomen are having another online Fireside Chat on Saturday, March 29 at 1 p.m. PDT. The topic this time: “Eldering in a Time of Collapse.” I have to miss this one, but the rowdy “Nomo Crones” (nomo for Not-Mother) are sure to have some interesting things to say on this topic. Find out more and register at https://gateway-women.com/gateway-elderwomen.

If you enjoy the Childless by Marriage blog, you might want to visit my Substack, “Can I Do It Alone?” at https://suelick.substack.com. Many of the readers there have never had children. 

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Is the ‘Happiest Place on Earth’ only for people with children?

Sue Fagalde Lick childless family, parents vs. non-parents, traveling alone , , , , , , , ,

Should childless adults be allowed to visit the Disney theme parks? At least one angry mom says no. Her tirade against park visitors without children went viral after she called for a ban on so-called Disney Adults. The grownups are clogging the lines so she has to wait forever with a cranky toddler. They’re in the way and demonstrating bad behavior, and they shouldn’t even be there, she said. It’s a family park, she proclaimed.

Thank God Walt Disney established Disneyland and the parks that followed with the mandate they should be places for all ages to have fun. That includes adults without children. Me, I don’t yearn to go to Disneyland. Been there, done that, but I have loved ones who go to Disneyland every chance they get. They don’t have kids, but so what? The Mickey Mouse ears come in all sizes.

The parents who dislike having non-parents invade their space say we couldn’t possibly understand what it’s like taking a toddler there. I think we do understand. It’s not like we have never seen a child. Ages ago, my late husband and I took his daughter and two-year-old granddaughter to Disneyland. Yes, it was challenging. Also fun. We didn’t pay any attention to who had children and who did not. I also went there as a young adult with friends. Why not?

I’m sure you could find parents at any theme park, water slide, Chuck E Cheese pizza parlor, puppet show, or playground who want to scream, “Get out of here! You don’t belong. This is for families.” We might claim our own spaces and scream back, “No kids here! This is for grownups.”

The word “family” is so loaded. In most cases in the U.S., it’s code for grownups with children. “It’s a family movie”=for children. It’s a “family restaurant”=bring your kids and if anyone complains, tough.” “It’s a family party”=games, food, and music will all be for children. If you don’t have kids, don’t bother coming.

Where does that leave us? Are we not part of a family even if it doesn’t include children? Too many people seem to think that if you never had children, you don’t have a family. How many times have you been asked, “When are you going to start a family?”

What is a family? As this New York Times article explains, there is no easy answer these days. The standard family definition of mom, dad and two kids has given way to many different combinations of people united by blood or love. It does not have to include children.

Online definitions abound.

From the Encyclopedia Britannica:

“a group of persons united by the ties of marriage, blood, or adoption, constituting a single household and interacting with each other in their respective social positions, usually those of spouses, parents, children, and siblings.”

From the Urban Dictionary:

“A group of people, usually of the same blood (but do not have to be), who genuinely love, trust, care about, and look out for each other.”

My worn-out Merriam Webster’s has more definitions of family than I have space to list. They include: “a group of people living under one roof; people of common ancestry; a group of people united by certain convictions or a common affiliation.”

Bottom line: a family is whatever you want it to be. Like me and my dog.

What do you think? Should childless adults be welcome into the Magic Kingdom without kids? Why or why not? Do you find yourself being excluded from “family” activities? What is a family to you? I welcome your comments.

photo by Bo shou at pexels.com

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Innocent Question Creates Awkward Childless Moment

Sue Fagalde Lick Childless holidays, childlessness, traveling alone , , , , , , , , , ,
Photo by rovenimages.com on Pexels.com

“Did your family have a good Fourth of July?”

It was just a friendly question as I turned in my rental car and we worked out how much I had to pay after insurance (too much). It had been a difficult week. I had traveled to Ohio for the National Federation of State Poetry Societies convention, which was wonderful. But the trip home was exhausting, with delayed planes, incredible crowds, and no time for a decent meal. When I finally got into my own car in Portland, Oregon, I was looking forward to a relaxed three-hour drive back to the coast. But it was not to be.

While I was in Ohio, thieves stole the catalytic converter from the bottom of my Honda Element, which I had left in a “park and fly” lot at a Portland hotel. The converters, which filter the toxic chemicals from the car’s exhaust, are easy pickings for criminals, who sell them for the precious metals they contain. It’s such a common crime in Portland the police don’t have time to talk to the victims. Read about it here.

I used my premium AAA coverage to get towed to Corvallis, a smaller city where I at least knew my way around, but it took all day to work things out with University Honda, State Farm, and Hertz. I was jet-lagged and still 60 miles from home, with no husband or children I could call to rescue me, although my dog-sitter did offer to come get me. I declined because I would need a car for however long it took to get mine fixed. Parts are scarce these days. I hear horror stories of people waiting months for auto repairs.

I was lucky it only took a week to get my car fixed. Maybe it’s because I cried in the waiting room. Everyone was very nice to me. Meanwhile, I drove a red Ford Escape to watch fireworks with friends on July 3 in Waldport, 10 miles south of where I live. It was all grownups this year because their kids have grown up and moved away.

On the actual Fourth, the friend I had hoped to hang out with was sick, so I spent the day mostly alone. I played a lot of guitar, walked with Annie, visited a neighbor, and watched several old episodes of “Sex and the City.” I danced to the music of Lyle Lovett while making eggplant Parmesan from my Cooking for One cookbook for my dinner. I was so glad to be home.

Toward the end of the day, I got my usual holiday-alone blues. I could hear but not see the firework show in Newport. I pictured everyone else gathered for barbecues, fireworks, and fun on the beach with their families while here I was all by my lonesome self. Woe is me. I wrote it all out in a terrible poem, watched some more “Sex and the City,” and went to bed.

“Did your family have a good Fourth of July?”

I could respond in so many ways. “What family?” “It’s just me and my dog.” “I don’t know. They’re all far away. Why don’t you call them and ask?”

But I didn’t. This pretty young woman and I were getting along so well. Why spoil it with reality? I just said, “Yeah.”

“That’s good,” she said, and we moved on.

How was your Fourth of July? Was your childlessness a factor? Please share in the comments. Non-U.S. readers, substitute any holiday. The assumptions are the same.

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Airplane Journey Raises Thoughts of Children I Never Had

Sue Fagalde Lick childlessness means no grandchildren, traveling alone , , , , ,

When the women with the wailing baby paused at Row 29 and waited for me to rise from my aisle seat to let them in, one would think my first thought would be horror. I already hated flying. I had already noticed these were the narrowest airplane seats I had ever seen. And now I had to sit with a screaming infant? 

Then again, it was better than sitting with the two very large, very rude men who had been near me in the waiting area. 

My seatmates were skinny young red-haired Spanish-speaking women, mother and aunt, and the baby. Once they were seated, the baby hushed and was an angel the rest of the flight. He slept most of the time. When awake, he cooed and smiled as Mama and Tia gave him lots of love. What was not to love? From his chubby cheeks to his tiny toes, this baby was adorable. 

Did I ache to have one of my own? Not really? Nor did I want to be one of the many parents I saw wrangling small children. Between the multiple boarding passes, multiple backpacks, toys, snacks, and the kids themselves, they were clearly overwhelmed. Some of those kids, although cute, would not be quiet. One little girl standing in the aisle of the plane insisted on showing everyone her pink backpack. She must have said “backpack” a hundred times. 

Yeah, I was too old and tired for that. I had gotten up at 4:30 a.m. Pacific time to catch my flight from Portland to Dallas to Columbus, Ohio for a poetry convention. By the time I’d gotten on the plane, I had already sworn off flying, and then the flight was delayed for an hour while they checked out a problem with the air-conditioning system. So I was not ready for squeaky-voiced kids with no filter. But that baby and mama sleeping cheek to cheek was a work of art. 

On my second flight, I shared my row with a little girl about 6 years old and her “abuela,” grandmother. They didn’t speak English either. They spoke quietly to each other and slept a lot. It was fine, even if Abuela did hog the armrest.

What really got to me was departing and arriving alone. While other passengers had people waiting for them, I landed in Columbus after dark so exhausted I wanted to weep and with no idea how I would get to the convention hotel. I would have given anything for a grown person to step up at that point, wrap me in a big hug, and say, “Hi Grandma, let me take your bags.” That’s what killed me, not having anyone call me “Abuela” and welcome me. Alone, I lifted my heavy bags, joined the crowd outside and took a taxi. I’m past the mother-of-small-children stage in life and ready for the benevolent grandmother stage, but you can’t have one without the other. Sometimes that hurts a lot.

At home in an area loaded with retired people, I rarely see small children, but go to an airport in the summer, and you will see lots and lots of families and good and bad examples of what we might be missing. 

Are you traveling this summer? Seeing lots of kids? How are you coping with that? Are you questioning your situation and your decisions about children? Or relieved to be on your own? I welcome your comments. 

***

If I’m going to get Covid, this would be the time. The airports were packed, the planes were 100 percent full, people were close together, unmasked, and no one asked about anyone’s vaccination status. That’s a little scary. 


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Is summer vacation all about ‘families’?

Sue Fagalde Lick family vs. work, summer in Oregon, traveling alone , , , , , , ,

Ah, summer. Here on the Oregon coast, it’s sometimes sunny, sometimes cloudy, sometimes wet, but warmer than the rest of the year. The wildflowers are blooming, the blackberries are beginning to fruit, and the local bear is raiding garbage cans. Streets, restaurants, and beaches are loaded with tourists, many of them toting children. That’s what happens when you live in a vacation destination.

Meanwhile, the people who live here are doing the family thing. This is the time of year when half of my church choir runs off to babysit the grandkids, go camping with the older kids, or attend family reunions. The calendar in the music room is loaded with the names of people who are taking time off while the offspring are out of school. Which leaves a few of us to pick up the slack.

Wherever you work, I suspect something similar is going on. It’s time for family vacations and entertaining the kids. While our mother-father co-workers are running off to the water park or Disneyland, guess who’s staying behind to do the work? The childless ones. It’s a good thing we’re around, but it’s hard not to feel resentful sometimes. Right?

When my husband was alive, we used to travel in the spring, usually around our May 18 anniversary. In addition to his regular work running community centers in San Jose, he was a licensed tax preparer. From January through April, he rarely looked up from his tax forms, but come May, it was time to spend some of that money on a great vacation before the kiddos were set loose. Over the years we went to Hawaii, Portugal, Costa Rica, and British Columbia. We cruised the Mississippi on the Delta Queen from Nashville to St. Louis, visited Tucson and Las Vegas, and explored many places closer to home.

Because our lives weren’t centered on the school calendar, we sometimes found ourselves unwittingly surrounded by families, like the time we visited the Grand Canyon during spring break. Don’t do it! Too crowded. A two-hour wait for a table at any of the restaurants. And those tables were full of kids.

Ours were adult-focused trips. We liked touring historical sites, wine-tasting, nature hikes, local theater performances, visiting galleries and museums, and meals at posh restaurants, stuff that doesn’t go well with children. We were spared amusement parks, Happy Meals, and kids who’d rather play with their electronic devices than see the wonders of the real world. Mostly. There were a couple fun trips with my stepson. We had good times fishing, splashing in the waves at the beach, and playing games. He was a good traveler, still is, but mostly it was just the two of us.

Now it’s just me, but that’s another story.

As I have traveled back and forth to San Jose this summer to be with my father, I have often found myself surrounded by parents and children. They’re at the airport, the rest stops, and the restaurants. It’s their time. God bless the parents trying to wrangle several kids and all their paraphernalia through airport security!

No matter how frustrating it might be, the parents are lucky to have this chance to show the world to their children. I’m sure there were times when my own parents would have loved to dump us somewhere and travel by themselves, but they always took us along. To make it affordable, we camped, mostly in California. My brother and I both grew to love nature and its simple pleasures, the lapping of a lake against the shore, a Stellar’s Jay squawking above the picnic table, the feel of soft dirt under our tennis shoes, and sitting around the campfire under the stars.

I’m getting lost in nostalgia. It’s July. People with children and grandchildren are busy spending time together. Where does that leave those of us without children? Are you doing double duty at work? Are you traveling now or waiting until the kids go back to school? Are you sad or glad about “summer vacation?” Please share in the comments.

 

Visiting the family

Sue Fagalde Lick childless family visits, traveling alone

Hi. I haven’t posted because I’ve been on the road for the last week. It was time to visit the family in California.

I imagine this sort of visit would have been much different if I had kids. As it was, I traveled alone, stayed with my father and went almost everywhere with him as my companion. The only difference between now and thirty years ago is that we’re both much older.

I left Dad home to have lunch with my stepdaughter. I really enjoyed that lunch. Now that we are both adults and her father is gone, it’s more of a “friend” relationship than any kind of mother-daughter thing. It’s two people with some shared history, memories of the same man, and a lot of affection for each other. We talked about school, work, money, men, food. . . She has two grown children and a granddaughter, but she’s single, and her kids are off on their own. It’s amazing to me that I have this smart, gorgeous woman in my life.

Unfortunately my father doesn’t feel any desire or obligation to connect with her anymore now that Fred is gone.

We visited my brother and his wife, who live about three hours away from Dad. Their daughter, my niece, came for a couple hours, but I spent more time with their dogs. With them, there is no awkwardness, just instant adoration.

Saying goodbye to my father just killed me. He’s very old, and I’m always afraid I won’t see him again.

If I had kids and grandkids, I imagine that would we would be one of those big groups going out to eat together, hanging out at one of their houses, talking, playing games, cooking, doing dishes, looking at old photos . . . Dad would be absorbed into this group.

Instead, we both travel solo. Last night, I got seated in the far corner of a restaurant where nobody else was eating alone. The jolly waitress called me “Hon.” I sipped chardonnay and read a book called “Going Solo.”

I should be home and reunited with my dog today. Talk to you soon.