Our Cross-Country Trip to CA in 1964

In 1964, my family—my parents, my sister Robin, and I—left our home in New Jersey to embark on what had long been one of my father's greatest dreams: a cross-country car trip to California, with Disneyland as our ultimate destination. It was to be an epic eight-week journey that would take us far from home and deep into the heart of America. We made our way westward with deliberate stops along the route, reconnecting with long-lost cousins, exploring historic landmarks, and indulging in the kind of roadside attractions that defined American family travel in the 1960s. Robin and I claimed the back seat as our domain for the duration of the trip, and we shared hotel rooms night after night for those two months on the road. As the photographs from that summer reveal, we were often dressed identically—a styling choice that I deeply resented at the time. Looking back, my memories of this grand adventure remain decidedly mixed. This was, after all, my father's dream we were living, not necessarily ours. Robin and I fought like cats and dogs, trapped together in close quarters for weeks on end. The endless hours of driving wore on us both, and we grew weary of being perpetually in motion. Yet there were undeniable highlights: Disneyland lived up to its magic, and we genuinely enjoyed many of the attractions and destinations along our route. What none of us could have known then—what we had no way of anticipating—was that this would mark the last time our family would ever travel together like this. In retrospect, those eight weeks represent something precious and irreplaceable: the final chapter of our family's shared adventures, captured forever in fading photographs and conflicted memories.