The Case for a Suitcase Life

How might we “travel” into our later years? Luckily, I had a great role model who taught me the answer.

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During the past year, I’ve attended several conferences around the country, giving a keynote address based on my book, AGING SIDEWAYS: Changing Our Perspectives on Getting Older. Those trips were challenging, mostly because air travel these days is far from a picnic and more like having root canal without anesthetic. I imagine many of you would agree.

That being said, speaking at such venues to very enthusiastic audiences about my passion for aging in positive, practical, and proactive ways has more than made up for the challenging experiences of getting there and back.

I’ve always loved visiting new places, and at age 74, I plan to continue doing so for as long as I can. That’s because I consider traveling –– the farther the better –– as a phenomenal educational tool that has taught me as much about myself as about other people and cultures.

I come by that urge honestly…and genetically. My frugal working-class parents were fortunate enough to travel extensively once my older brother and I were on our own. But the nomadic DNA goes back a bit further, to my maternal grandmother, Giovina Simone Modè, who was most influential in teaching me what getting older is about.

Born in Italy to a very poor family, she realized that her best hope of survival was to leave her native land in 1920 at age 18 to live with the immigrant uncle in New York City who sponsored her passage.

Imagine this experience from her own perspective: a young, basically uneducated teen who spoke no English and had never ventured farther than the next village having to brave –– by herself –– a 10- to 14-day journey on a ship from Naples and the subsequent processing at Ellis Island, all the while frantically hoping that her beloved zio would be there to meet her when the ordeal was over.

That was the experience that forged her courage and desire to explore new environments. By the time I came along, Giovina, long a widow, was always at the ready to visit any of her six children when they invited her to spend time with their families in various parts of the United States.

In fact, so prepared was she that under her bed she kept a small, well-worn, belt-tied suitcase, fully packed and ready to be pulled out at a moment’s notice. Upon her arrival back home, those clothes were immediately washed, pressed, folded, and returned to their place, awaiting their next journey.

Of all the lessons I learned from that wise woman, one of the most important ones was to be emotionally prepared for that next journey, no matter the form it might take. It needn't be a geographical one. It could be learning a new skill, seeking a different job, coping with an unexpected health challenge, forming another friendship, or moving a relationship to a deeper level of intimacy.

Too often as we get older, many of us find ourselves in stasis, either by circumstance, limitation, or personal choice. And that stasis can slowly erode our sense of curiosity, our desire for adventure, or even a comfort with our own self. Giovina refused to give up journeying through life, even as her body deteriorated. She was always ready and eager to hear the next story –– or better yet, become a character in one.

How we travel into our later years depends on our willingness to remain inquisitive, courageous, and engaged, our suitcases packed with experience and wisdom, always at the ready to be picked up and carried over the threshold.

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