Collective memory

Thanks to about a bazillion hours of painstaking work by my mother, my family has our complete collection of thousands of slides in digital form (see yesterday’s post for some prime specimens!). I am having a blast pulling photos out of the multi-DVD set to use for my own stuff. But the best part is that when I use one of these photos, I get a great story about it from Mom. Some of the stories I remember, but not always what picture the story belongs to and vice versa. So it’s a wonderful secondary effect to get these tidbits from Mom. She had this to say about a couple of yesterday’s photos:

“The first pic of you on the “horse” was taken in Granby, CO. We had nearly frozen our tutus off the previous night, camping at Shadow Mountain National Recreation Area, and stopped at a general store in Granby and while you rode the horse, we bought a green army blanket – sorely needed in Yellowstone.”

 

 

 

 

 ”The second pic of you on the “horse” was taken in Red River, New Mexico and while you “rode” and I got a few groceries – and, Mark soundly slept in the station wagon – our tent was stolen. It was a very long day from there to home in Oklahoma City. We had to end the vacation as we couldn’t afford to stay in a motel. That evening, we did buy our one and only meal on that trip, in Shamrock, Texas.”

The Great Burton Westward Migration

In the grand tradition of the many years and the always adventurous and indefatigable Burtons, my folks are even at this moment traveling the newest chapter of the Great Burton Westward Migration. Coming out here from Columbia, Missouri to Fort Collins for a visit, they are probably nearly to their destination of the day, North Platte, Nebraska, and the Hampton Inn where they will break their journey briefly before continuing on tomorrow, to arrive in the early afternoon after a shopping spree at Cabela’s and lunch in Cheyenne.

So to mark this wonderful and quintessentially Burton occasion, I’m pulling some photos from past Burton Westward Migrations. Long may we all travel!

Map commemorating an early Burton Westward Migration (1963).

Granby, Colorado, 1963. That’s me.

Me again. We’ll continue to develop this theme. Not me. The horse.

Start ‘em traveling young. That’s my brother Mark on the left. New Mexico, again, I think? I’ll have to check with Mom to make sure. 

Encountering wild burros in Custer State Park, South Dakota. Early 1960s.

… and again, this time in the mid-1970s. Bigger car, bigger kids. Me on the left, Mom in the middle, Mark on the right.

On our trips West to Colorado in the seventies, we’d drive the first day to Oakley, Kansas, and stay overnight at the Golden Plains Motel. This is Mark (foreground) and Dad at the swimming pool.

During Migrations, we’d stop to see amazing things. Usually National Parks, but sometimes Great American Attractions like the Corn Palace in Mitchell, South Dakota.

To me, horseback riding was one the THE BEST things we got to do during Westward Migrations. That’s Mom on the left and me getting ready for a family trail ride in Snowmass, Colorado, mid-1970s.

We always had wildlife experiences.

That’s Dad (left) and me on a scenic chairlift ride up Aspen Mountain. We were slightly terrified.

Dad, Mom and Mark exploring an old mine shaft in the mountains around Aspen, Colorado.