It all started with a van his little brother bought after working in their parents’ store for their childhood, a summer road trip across the country with his brothers, and falling in love with the snowy peaks, cool temps, and endless blue skies of Colorado. Dad just knew he had to leave woodsy, rainy, gray Connecticut, the only home he’d ever known, and transfer colleges. A transfer that would give him the degree he wanted as a journalist and editor, and better than any degree, a transfer to a university where he would meet Mom, marry his love within a year, and raise a family of two daughters, never once complaining about being a ”girl mom”.

And just like that summer road trip where some nights were cold and wet and some days were filled with rays of golden hope, Mom and Dad have weathered many storms in fifty years. Challenging jobs, layoffs, more moves across the country to help Grandma and Grandpa Dowling run that same store when Grandpa got sick, finding jobs in the beautiful, idyllic Finger Lakes where Elizabeth and I created core childhood memories exploring the woods and riding our bikes and swimming in lakes, then back to Colorado where there were more opportunities when the sky got stormy again.

And just like that summer road trip where Dad discovered what he wanted in life, Mom and Dad took us on many trips even when money was tight. Mom drew carnivorous plants so perfectly for a botany book that she earned enough money for us to drive down to Disney World, camping the whole time, where we met Mickey and baked in the spring Floridian sun at the water park. We came to Colorado and went camping with Mom’s family, learning how to ride motorbikes and four-wheelers, borrowing Grandma and Grandpa Jordan’s old station wagon to see the Grand Canyon and Mesa Verde, to see that never-ending stretch of blue sky on ancient rock formations shaped by rivers and men, and to find within ourselves that desire to see more of the world than what was under our giant maple back home.

Every fall we drove to Vermont for a long weekend at Bob’s ski lodge with Dad’s whole family, soaking in the sauna and hiking amid swiftly falling multicolored New England leaves. We took trips to Washington, D.C., New York City, the Adirondacks, and coastal Maine. We visited family in most of the places we traveled to, Elizabeth and I fought our way through un-air-conditioned backseat travel, eating Mom’s homemade tuna sandwiches and picking on Dad for carrying around his “Daddy purse”, his camera bag, because he was always taking pictures of our adventures.

Once we settled down in Denver, we continued to travel, camping and skiing in our beautiful Rocky Mountains, Mom changing her bedtime song from, “It’s bedtime in the Finger Lakes” to, “It’s bedtime in the Rocky Mountains!” so happy to be home. We grew into ourselves walking city streets and meeting people from all over the world in our newly diverse classrooms, blossoming into the women we have become—women who know the value and importance of travel, education, hard work, starting over, and never staying still.

Sure, we never had one of those beach vacations where you sip piña coladas for a week and lounge around the hotel pool . Was it because we couldn’t afford it or because we couldn’t afford to miss what was really out there in the world—the historical architecture and beautiful art that Mom always shared along the way, or the long bike rides through state and national parks that dad loved to lead—these are the gifts you gave us.

It all started with a road trip in an old, used van. And we’re so happy to celebrate a fifty-year marriage, and all the memories you created for us, as you drove your dreams and guided ours. Thank you, Mom and Dad. Cheers to fifty years, and to many more. We love you.