I have often wondered about my passion for traveling. I have often lived 50 or more miles from work or school. Driven, walked, bicycled and ridden buses great distances daily. In June I traveled by train and Greyhound bus from Montana to South Carolina, stayed over night, and drove my sisters car back to Montana. I have enjoyed every moment. Where does this come from? Is it an affliction? Is it hereditary? Above is the day my eldest son returned from Afghanistan. now he lives in Hawaii. Second are my nieces sons. They traveled from Arizona to take a boat ride at The Gates of The Mountains about 20 miles north of Helena.
My cousin Matt may have answered the question of this passion for travel today. The State of Utah is celebrating Pioneer Day today. A relative was one of the pioneers with Brigham Young as he crossed America looking for the promised land. Actually my ancestor was not with the group the entire trip. It appears he had my penchant for excess travel as you will read in this excerpt of the message I received today.
Did you know our 3rd great grandfather, Thomas Woolsey (Wolsey) was one of those 120 pioneers who arrived in the valley on July 22nd? He was part of the Mormon Battalion and marched from Iowa to San Diego, then back to Iowa, then on horseback to the valley (as part of that first group), then back to Iowa to help others to the valley, then back to Iowa and back to the valley. During that first trip from Iowa to the valley, he and three other men split off to go to Fort Pueblo, CO to help Mormon Battalion members and Mormons from Mississippi who were sick. He helped bring them back to meet up with that first main group with Brigham Young. Then he arrived in the valley on the 22nd with the rest of that 120.
I don’t understand DNA, but Grampa Woolsey put something in my blood.
I think Grandpa Woolsey liked to travel as well when time would allow. Remember the trip to Cardston, Alberta. He wanted to connect with relatives on the Woolsey side – so off we went from GF. Not knowing who or what we would find. The Cardston Woolseys were a great family. They invited us to spend the night with them in their home. I met Beverly – about my age. We slept in sleeping bags on the floor.