Grandma Vivian Luce took a trip to Alaska after she retired. We kids had a discussion about it recently, and found out none of us really knew the story.
Here’s the basic story as I remembered it. Some caution is warranted here because I was only 10 or 11. No one told me the story. I remember hearing bits and pieces. I put them together for myself.
Grandma disappeared. Her kids hadn’t heard from her. Then, it turned out she had quit her job. Or rather, she had been dodging retirement but the hospital finally caught up with her and forced her to retire. The kids contacted the local authorities. They did some aerial reconnaissance, thinking her car might have run off the road, or maybe her car got stuck somewhere after she pulled off road to do some rock honding. It wasn’t too long before they found her car at a dealer in–was it Evanston? Green River? Anyway, she had traded in her old car on a new car. She was alive and unharmed, and now they had a solid lead. Eventually, the police found her in Alaska. She said she had wanted to see Alaska and the Northern Lights since she was a little girl. Of course, being Grandma, she didn’t see what all the fuss was about.
When did this happen? I wasn’t sure. I’m almost certain I remember we were living in Las Vegas, so before 1968. Also, Grandma still had that new car when I was a teenager. She lived in Heber then. After I got my driver’s license, she let me drive her up to Wyoming for Memorial Day, to renew her license plates, to do things with her bank, and whatever other reasons she might have for a trip up there. My cousin Mike got the car after she died in 1979. Given all this, I thought I should be able to remember it. My best guess was a ’66 or ’67 Ford Fairlane.
Time to interview the older generation. Here’s what we found.
First, Aunt Betty helped us pin down the date. Grandma celebrated her 65th birthday in Alaska. That means this was all happening on and around November 17, 1966. (I was right that it was before 1968 and the car was a ’66 or ’67.) Betty also gave us a piece of the story I’d never heard. Grandma had a friend who was moving to Alaska, so she decided to go herself.
Aunt Betty didn’t remember anything about Grandma being forced to retire. The way I remember it, Grandma was working in Rock Springs. She didn’t want to retire. Eventually, they “caught up with her.” Then, when she came back from Alaska, she got a job in Rawlins, and it happened again. They caught up with her again, so she retired and moved to Heber to live with Aunt Betty. She’d had a room there for as long as I can remember, waiting for the day.
Here, Aunt Betty corrected me. It wasn’t Rawlins; it was Evanston. OK, I can believe that. After we moved to Grand Junction in 1968, we went up to see Grandma in Wyoming a couple of times. We went up through Meeker and Baggs. Always through a little town named Hamilton, which I liked because it was my father’s middle name. Maybe it was named for a relative. On one of those visits we saw the nurse’s residence where Grandma lived. The only time in my life I’ve seen that. Grandma gave us each a silver dollar.
How long was Grandma in Alaska? Here, we hit a snag. I’d have sworn it was a year or so. But no. Aunt Betty says a week, maybe a little longer. Mom says a month, maybe a little less. I have to be wrong, then. But still. I have Grandma’s photos and postcards from that trip. I’d swear they show a longer stay. Some of them show her doubling back and staying at place she’d stayed before. One of these days I’ll dig them out. See what I find.
