Recently a friend told me a story that struck a chord:

My father worked for an airline. I grew up in the days when employees and their families could fly free – or nearly free.

So my family did something no other family in my neighborhood could do. When we went on vacation, we flew. To Florida. The Caribbean. California. One year, we even went to Hawaii.

It sounds like it would have been a great perk for a kid, but for our family, it generated feelings approaching shame because it made us different. It made us stand out.

I remember once, I was about nine or ten, we planned to go to Disneyland in California. I was so excited about the trip, but my father forbid me to tell anyone where we were going.

‘Don’t say a word about it,’ he said. ‘People will think you are showing off.’

So we go on this trip, and it is great. Every kid’s dream. When we come home, I asked my mother if I could tell my friend Andy about Disneyland.

My mother looked at me and softly said, ‘Sweetie, nobody wants to hear about your trip.’”

This may sound strange coming from a person who has created a blog to document a trip, but I understand where the parents in the story are coming from. I’m not saying I agree – but I understand.

It’s one reason Dani and I have been very circumspect about discussing our trip. We both hear that voice inside our heads: “Nobody wants to hear about your trip.”

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