When John first pitched the idea of adding a family travel perspective to the Wheelchair Travel community, it took me only a few minutes to say “yes,” knowing that this would be a turning point in both of our lives' work.
I remember sitting on Robert’s grey kid-couch cushions, way past my preferred bedtime. I was probably half whispering, because, well, parenthood. We had shared so much of our hearts already, but the weight of this conversation was nearly tangible. It felt like everything to do with my life and nothing to do with my life — a beautiful continuation of my passions yet simultaneously a brand new beginning. To be honest, we are barely at the start of figuring out how to incorporate family travel into the business. I plan to make myself comfortable in the unknown for the next foreseeable (and probably unforeseeable) future.
With all new beginnings, though, I find it best to start with an introduction. I’m honored and excited to be joining Wheelchair Travel in a more direct way! All of you individually are what make the accessible travel community vibrant and welcoming; I feel like I am joining more of a group of friends than a business. I wish that I could talk in a more conversational way with each of you to also hear your story. Perhaps one day that will be possible at a conference or group tour, but I’ll just have to share my side of the conversation for now!
I thought it fitting to do this introduction through the lens of travel. What I’ve realized by looking back is that travel was always part of my life because, quite literally, it just was. Travel didn’t exist for me solely as a way to sight-see or as a get-away. Travel was the vessel for memories and simply how I was able to connect to the people and passions that I loved in my life. Even now, perhaps especially now, I don’t want to travel just to consume an experience or check a box, but to connect with my family. To expand our limited horizon. To push for accessibility. To meet new people. To incorporate new ways of viewing the world.
My earliest travel memories involve my parents’ blue Ford Windstar for our good-old-fashioned family road trips. Although, let’s be honest, it was probably more difficult than good for a cramped (8 people deep plus our dog and sometimes cat) family van. We were most often going to see extended family or to take an occasional beach camping trip.
Fast forward several years, swap the van for a bus full of my volleyball teammates, and you have a snapshot of my college years traveling for games, balancing homework, watching film and making friends. My summers in college shaped my personal travel and connection to the disability community through long-term trips both nationally and internationally where I volunteered with various disability organizations.
After college I moved to Liberia, where, as John previously shared, I adopted Robert. A new travel era had begun in my life! Robert and I have since traveled to many different destinations for both personal travel and medical trips, and we make it a point to find accessible things to do.
I now remember each place not by specific landmarks but by the memories we’ve made, places we’ve connected — Atlanta is the story of getting lost and discovering a favorite waterfall to picnic, St. Simons Island is the place where we got to wake up with the sun with the beach to ourselves, Philadelphia is the origin of coveted inside jokes, and St. Louis is the place where I first met John in person.
Travel has shaped us and continues to define our lives through the memories we create. It could be easy to romanticize, based on what I’ve shared so far, but traveling as a family realistically isn’t all warm hugs and laughs. Traveling with a disabled child in particular is challenging, not as a result of the disability itself, but because many places are inaccessible. It’s a fact of life that you're already familiar with and living.
Side by side with the memories we cherish are the memories of sweating my way through the airport balancing bags and medical equipment, fighting off stares and rude comments, visiting museums only to find inaccessible exhibits, and managing the frustrations and emotions of not only myself but also my child.
These challenges mold us too; it’s an ongoing struggle that I wish my son didn’t have to face, but I refuse to settle for the alternative. Modeling disability advocacy and activism in life and travel situations is a topic that John and I return to often — cue the most recent encounter of Robert cursing the janky lift in front of the operator. In these situations, we are proud of his awareness of the need for true accessibility. We aim to help him thoughtfully discover his own answer to the question, “how can we join the world as it is while continuing to fight for better?” I know we will be revisiting this topic a lot in our family travels and in future articles!
My travel experience thus far is a thread connecting places, people and memories that make up an inseparable part of my story. I’m looking forward to developing new threads as John, Robert and I visit new places and share those with you. Being able to join this work is important to me, not solely because it embodies a piece of John and Robert, but also because disabled people are so often left to fight for their own rights. The juxtaposition of my travel experience with theirs is a constant reminder of how much work remains to be done to bring equal access to the travel industry. I’m hopeful that, through our shared experiences, we can begin to help you and other families Open Your World through accessible travel.
Look for me to share stories from our trips over the coming months and, after our wedding next year, to join John as a full-time member of the Wheelchair Travel team.
Talk to you soon,
— Stevie
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