Tour de Oregon provides connection with family

By Tammy Malgesini

Staff Writer

Published on August 3, 2016 10:42AM

I recently completed what my mom called a “mission of love and mercy.”

Encompassing more than 1,300 miles, my Tour de Oregon came as a result of my aunt Willamae Holt’s death at the end of May.

I knew lots of people would be around to comfort my uncle Jim, my cousins and my mom during the memorial service. Instead of making a quick trip to Medford, I decided to spend quality time with family in the weeks afterward.

“You don’t know how special that trip was,” my mom recently told me on the phone. “It was perfect timing because there were lots of family and friends after Willie died. After awhile, people don’t reach out as much but we’re still grieving.”

The first leg of the trip took me to Coos Bay to see my folks. We didn’t do anything extraordinary — thrift store shopping, a drive to the beach and out to eat a few times. But the moments were special.

My mom seems to become a night owl when I’m in town. She laughed and cried while reminiscing about her big sis. Sharing about their special bond, she again apologized for not giving me a sister.

I always tell her I have a couple of close friends that are like sisters. And, even if time passes between our visits, the connection with my cousins is special.

Many people say cousins are our first friends as children. That certainly is the case with Laura and Lynda. Growing up, family vacations often included trips to visit them.

We shared lots of fun times and childhood diseases — one summer I exposed everyone to the mumps. When we moved to Jackson County, I had the advantage of instant friends when starting a new school.

With Coos Bay in the rear view mirror, I headed to Medford to visit Lynda and uncle Jim. The Fourth of July weekend provided opportunities to spend time with Lynda’s son, grandson, oldest daughter and niece.

Quite the character, uncle Jim suggested we should become “blood brothers” since we aren’t actually blood relatives. Even at 81 years old, he was game for our adventures. He said he needed to keep a close watch on Lynda and I to make sure we didn’t end up in jail.

I came home long enough to work a few days, do some laundry and re-pack my bags before heading to Joseph. Laura and her husband, James, live in a beautiful slice of paradise above Wallowa Lake.

We enjoyed the outdoors and savored our share of good food. And, I learned my cousin was a bit of an Annie Oakley — picking off some of the pesky varmints that destroy the trees from her deck.

An added bonus, I got to see Laura’s son, Matt, and survived as a wedding crasher even though the officiant was armed with a six-shooter.

I embarked on this journey without specific plans, other than to connect with family. Mission accomplished!

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Tammy Malgesini is the community editor. Her column, Inside my Shoes, includes general musings about life. Contact her at tmalgesini@eastoregonian.com or 541-564-4539.

Road trips provide chances to reconnect

7/29/2009

Road trips provide chances to reconnect
By TAMMY MALGESINI
East Oregonian

Climbing into the seat next to my husband as we set out for vacation brought as much giddiness and excitement as the old E-Ticket rides at Disneyland when I was a kid. Sure there was the anticipation of the trip in general, but I was looking forward to actually riding with John. In an effort to stretch my vacation days as much as possible, the last couple of years John would hit the road with our toys and utilizing my SkyMiles, I'd fly to an airport near our destination.

Well, the excitement of being in the truck lasted until about ... Cabbage Hill.

In the four years since I last took an extended road trip, I forgot how confining the cab of the pickup is. To help pass the time (and refrain from critiquing John's driving), I read several newspapers, some chapters from Rolf Potts' book, "Marco Polo Didn't Go There," and the atlas. Note to self: Get more reading material for the drive home.

Although the atlas will never make a list of best sellers or a Pulitzer Prize, it did provide information for a little travel trivia. (Name the states that are larger than Oregon, identify the capital of each state and list the three least populated states in order.) On a side note - I'm amazed that the entire state of Wyoming has less people than the city of Portland.

And what trip would be complete without the periodic query of, "Are we there yet?"

As we drove through Salt Lake City, the sky darkened, the wind kicked up and it started to pour down rain. I suddenly became quite worried about my golf clubs, which were standing straight up in the bed of the truck, wedged between the ATV and the back wheel well. I pressed my nose against the window and peered into the darkness - trying to see how they were holding up.

As the storm continued, I verbalized my concerns with a running commentary, which alternated between the booming thunder and jagged lightning, other drivers on the road, the decreased visibility and my golf clubs.

Later as the weather subsided, I said to John: "Haven't you missed having me ride with you on vacation?"

"It really is a different experience," he responded.
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Tammy Malgesini is the EO's community editor. Her column, Inside my shoes, will appear every other week. You can reach her at tmalgesini@eastoregonian.com of 541-564-4539.

On this trip, I'll be doing the driving

8/5/2008

On this trip, I'll be doing the driving
inside my shoes
By TAMMY MALGESINI
The Hermiston Herald

I don't want to die in Moab. That's what I told my husband, John, last year as he continued to drive on a treacherous road while exploring some of the back country outside the southeastern Utah town.

Now I must admit I may have contributed to John's hell-bent determination to forge on.

Shortly after we got off the main road he was driving very conservatively.

"You don't have to drive like a grandma, we have four-wheel drive," I said.

These words would come back to haunt me as the road conditions worsened and he was determined to find the Anasazi petroglyphs and hidden arch we were searching for.

We stumbled upon the town in the midst of red rock and desert 11 years ago. Our good friends, Mark and Teri Briley, had moved to Denver and we planned to visit them.

I routed our trip through Moab because I had matured enough to appreciate the beauty of our national parks. Arches and Canyonlands national parks are each within a stone's throw of the town situated in the midst of red rock country and desert.

As I was growing up, my family didn't have much money, so our family vacations consisted of piling into the car and camping - many times near one of the national parks in California.

After serving with the military police, my dad, Robert Stockman, was told he was too short to join the California Highway Patrol. After a stint as a truck driver, he went back to college to become a social studies teacher. At the time it felt like vacations were Stockman's Summer School.

As I was planning this summer's vacation, I pondered where we should go. John and I trade off as to who decides the destination and this year it was my turn.

After our second trip to the area, I recognized the negotiating power of the promise of a trip to Moab.

"This is a place I would be perfectly fine dying in," John proclaimed.

In order to save my precious vacation time, John is more than agreeable to packing up the truck with our luggage and equipment and driving - picking me up at a nearby airport.

I must admit, Moab and the surrounding area have grown on me. It's a virtual nirvana for outdoor enthusiasts with bicycling, off-highway vehicle exploration, white-water rafting, hiking, golfing, rock-climbing and rappelling.

Adding an ATV to our cache of toys, we set out to find the petroglyphs. Although they remained elusive, we did find a hidden arch and I didn't drive like a grandma getting there.
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Tammy Malgesini is a reporter for The Hermiston Herald. Readers may e-mail her at mailto:tmalgesini@hermistonherald.com