Yesterday, I went to Rockford for a dental appointment. As I drove along Illinois Route 70, which runs between Durand and Rockford, I wondered how many times in my life I had travelled that concrete road. I have always lived in the Durand area and Rockford has been my main shopping area and the Winnebago County seat for legal business. The road sign just south of the mile-corner reads 18 miles to the city but I always figure half-an-hour to get where I want to go. Years ago, the business area shifted from downtown to the east side, making it take longer to reach the stores.
My first trip would have been when I was ten days old–Dad brought Mom and me home from the Rockford Memorial Hospital where I was born. At that time, women were kept in the institution for ten days after giving birth.
Many of the trips were routine, but some have been memorable. I was four years old when we went to Dad’s surprise party for his 29th birthday. Mom and I shared a secret and a blanket over our legs to keep warm on a December evening in our coupe driving to our friends, Charlie and Aline’s apartment in the city.
I remember the speedy trip home after eating hamburgers at Tuckwood’s restaurant after my first prom date with Kenny. The two of us were in the back seat, when our friend, Wayne, who was driving his father’s Ford, was trying to beat my 2 a.m. curfew, but it was 2:15 when he pulled into our gravel driveway.
I spent four years making the trip five days a week when I worked at the U.S. Department of Agriculture office before I was married.
I’m not sure if 70 is a rut or a path to adventure. In the 1980s, I joined the Illinois Woman’s Press Association. Their camaraderie and contests assured me that journalism was my calling. The meetings were always held in the Chicago area. Seventy was only the beginning of my journey.
What paths has your life taken?