An early vacation memory that comes to mind happened in the summer of 1973. Our family—my husband, Bill, myself and our six kids—was making a once-in-a-lifetime trip from Ripley, N.Y., to Farmington, N.M., where my family lived when I was growing up. I had not been there since 1961, when my parents celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary.
By 1973, my mom and dad were gone, but my brother, Jim; his wife, Martha; and their children: Karen, Jimmy and Jill, still lived there. Also living in Farmington were my widowed sister, Faye, and four of her children: Ned, Tom, Linda and Pam, plus numerous grandchildren. They all lived in the little town of Farmington in the northeast corner of the state.
We had purchased a red 1970 Volkswagen camper bus just…