Dad had an early flight, so we gulped down the skimpy continental breakfast, and drove him off to the airport. We could hardly believe we were parting company, as it now felt normal to be on the road, with our three generations represented. We exchanged hugs and words of gratitude and awe, and watched as Dad walked into the terminal. It was not a very dramatic ending to our 11-day journey, but it hardly had to be: we had plenty of drama along the way, and we’d become much closer as a result. We each knew that we would be thinking about this trip for a long time.
After a quick stop at the post office to mail home the railroad spike I’d found in Hackstaff, Aaron and I returned our car to the airport and waited for our flight home.
Turning to the back of Pop Pop’s diary, I read his final entry:
June 19th, 1922
After a good nights rest in the jail we started on the home stretch. One hundred miles to Los Angeles. With a few lifts we reached Ventura. Here a man in a ford going to Los Angeles picked us up. He took us on a road which went across part of the Mohave Desert. Maybe it wasn’t hot: 110 in the shade. He had seven blow outs while in the desert due to the heat. Was surprised to find so much desert in Cal.
Well at 7.30 P.M. June 19th we drove into the city of Los Angeles. I was sure this was our final resting place as weary travelers were we. We passed through Universal City, Griffith Park and Hollywood before we got to Los Angeles proper. Here we looked up Ray’s cousin Win Rosenbury. Found him at 1505 West 8th St. This is where we stayed while in Los Angeles. Our clothes were in rags. My shoes were no longer foot wear but we had sent our clothes to this place and after a good bath and a shave we put them on. My suit fit me quick for during the trip I had lost 15 pounds. Win took us out that night and treated us to a chicken dinner and the movies afterwards. That night I wrote home and then went to bed. I laid there for hours just thinking of the trip and how lucky we were in getting here for when we started I had no idea of what we had before us. I knew it would be hard but I never dreamed of some of the things we saw and did. After all it was a great experience.
Frederic C. Barth
National Hobos Association
Now signing off. Good Night.
Some of Pop Pop’s words jumped out at me, for they could just as well have been my own: “for hours just thinking of the trip,” “how lucky we were,” “I never dreamed of some of the things we saw and did.” I share his gratitude for such an incredible experience. However, I find myself wondering just how much we succeeded in one of the main goals of our trip: of getting to know my grandfather better, of “finding Fritz, Sr.” With no conscious memory of him, I still find him somewhat elusive.
However, because of our trip, and thanks to his diary, I feel like I’ve caught a few glimpses of him here and there. These glimpses come and go at their own will, like the hummingbird who sometimes visits us on the deck of our cabin in Vermont. If you consciously try to look for him, chances are he won’t show up. But occasionally, while you’re sitting and reading, or just looking out and thinking, he arrives out of nowhere for a sip from the bird feeder. And just as suddenly, he darts away. In the same way, our trip gave us surprising glimpses of Pop Pop that seem just as real, and just as fleeting. Even if they are only a product of our imagination, they are now stored and locked in the same mental box of memories.
Someday our own descendants may read our story after we’re gone, wishing they could know us better. I think I would be honored if they did, and this is what I would say to them: “Because of Pop Pop’s diary, I learned to appreciate the grandfather I barely knew. In it, he gave us a story to guide us, and as we followed his trail, he imparted to us a thirst for making our own adventure, and the inclination to record our experiences. Half of who we are is a gift from those who go before us, and the other half is what we do, and where we go, with that gift. With one foot rooted in the past, we step out with certain ideas about what we hope to see, some of which come true. But it’s the surprises and unexpected discoveries that add adventure to those hopes.”
That’s what I would probably say. But I think I know Pop Pop well enough now to know what he would probably say:
“Maybe it wasn’t an amazing trip!”
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