How to Cross a Border

Our drive to Italy yesterday got me thinking about my birthday and my grandson

To hear the related 5-minute audio file that I uploaded today as my Morning Journal flash briefing for Alexa devices, please click on the play button:

A Grandfather’s Travel Tips

Yesterday we drove from Provence to Bordighera, a small town on the Italian coast.

I doubted we would need our passports, but we brought them anyway. Crossing borders in the European Union is sort of like driving from Maine to New Hampshire, right?

Not quite.

I can get by speaking French, but I know close to zero Italian. Plus, the toll booths work just enough differently in France and Italy to make our stops frantic. And Apple Maps didn’t work right.

But we made it, and I had a terrific spaghetti bolognese, my late mother’s favorite meal, at a family restaurant high on the hill in Bordighera. We got lost driving back to our rented villa but made it back in time for rush hour in Nice. All good.

With our border crossings fresh in my mind, I can see this morning how turning 74 tomorrow will bear some similarities.

When you go from a middle-aged man to an old man, some things remain the same, and some things are new and confusing. This doesn’t happen all at once on any certain birthday. But when you blow out those candles each year, it’s natural to consider the journey of aging.

My grandson James today is crossing a big border, too.

My daughter Sarah will drive him to Lewiston, Maine, for his first day at Bates College. So it will actually be a major border crossing for both of them.

I am thinking of them both here on the patio in La Colle-sur-Loup.

Tuo nonno è molto orgoglioso di te oggi, James!