The “Traveling Bug”
My love of travel began in the eighth grade on a marching band trip from Central New York to West Virginia. I still remember the low hum of the bus, the mix of nervous chatter and laughter around me, and the feeling of watching familiar roads give way to someplace entirely new. Before I go any further, let me ask you a question: Can you guess which instrument I played? I’ll tell you toward the end.
When I returned home, something had changed. I couldn’t explain it then, but I knew I wanted to see more of the world. My dad thought it was hilarious. He called it my “traveling bug” and joked that I had caught something he never did. He had no desire to travel extensively. Me? One trip only made me wonder where I could go next. Looking back, I think he was right—it really was a bug. Every new destination only made me want another. It was the anticipation of the journey, the excitement of arriving somewhere unfamiliar, the local food, the conversations with people I’d never otherwise meet, and the discovery that every place has its own rhythm and story.
Travel taught me to slow down, pay attention, and appreciate that the world is much bigger—and much more connected—than the one I grew up in. That first trip led to another.
In ninth grade, my parents took my cousin and me to Raleigh, North Carolina, to visit my dad’s brother and his family. Even when my dad’s van briefly broke down on the way there, it became part of the adventure. In tenth grade, I traveled to Florida with the marching band. In eleventh grade, I went to Arizona with my best friend, Helen, and her mom. We visited the Grand Canyon and stayed with her family. By then, travel had become more than something I enjoyed—it had become part of who I was.
It was also in eleventh grade that I stepped away from marching band to work. My band director wasn’t happy with my decision and tried to persuade me to stay by reminding me about the band’s upcoming trip. Ironically, they were headed to Phoenix—the very place I had already visited.
I traveled a few more times before I met my husband, Shaun. As it turned out, he, too, had the traveling bug. Our first trip together was to Florida, where we drove from Pompano Beach to Key West. Before we left, my dad smiled and said, “You’ll be together for a week, 24/7. This trip will either make you or break you.” We loved traveling together. Part of that trip included staying at a timeshare that Shaun’s sister and brother-in-law generously let us use. We even sat through the timeshare presentation because we already knew travel would always be part of our future. We just didn’t know what that future would look like.
After we were married in 1998, we honeymooned in St. Croix, and we fell completely in love with the island. We returned for our tenth and twentieth anniversaries. Our thirtieth anniversary is only a little over two years away, and we’re debating whether to return to St. Croix or go somewhere else.
One trip changed our lives in a completely unexpected way. In 2002, after buying a new house with two of our three children, we found ourselves with a week between homes. Shaun’s sister and brother-in-law invited us on a trip to Crossville, Tennessee.
We fell in love with Tennessee.
We had just purchased what we believed would be our forever home in Central New York; our families lived nearby; Shaun was working as a Nuclear Reactor Operator; and I was finishing my bachelor’s degree.
At the time, moving didn’t seem possible.
Still, we couldn’t stop talking about Tennessee.
That belief—that travel can change how we see ourselves and what might be possible—also shaped my career in higher education.
As my professional life grew, so did my opportunities to travel—not just for adventure, but for learning, teaching, and connection. As a professor, I traveled to conferences across the country, where I attended professional development sessions and learned from colleagues whose ideas challenged and inspired me. After becoming a dean, those opportunities continued to expand to include presenting research, leading sessions on leadership skills, and sharing teaching methods. Looking back, those trips were never just about the destination. They reinforced the idea that learning extends far beyond the classroom and that some of the most meaningful growth happens when we step into new places, exchange ideas, and return home with fresh perspectives.
Eventually, that belief became even more meaningful when I had the opportunity to share travel with students. In 2022, after a pandemic delay, I led my first student tour to Italy. Watching students experience Italy reminded me of that eighth-grade band trip years earlier. I saw the same excitement and curiosity in them that I had felt when I first realized the world was much bigger than what I knew.
Since then, in group tours, we’ve explored Greece, Scotland, and Ireland, with Paris and Bordeaux already on our calendar.
Even as our travels expanded, Tennessee remained the place we always returned to. Years passed. About ten years after that first timeshare presentation, we bought into a Gatlinburg, Tennessee, timeshare sight unseen. We continued to return nearly every other year, and eventually, what began as a vacation destination became home.
In 2022, our son had relocated to Tennessee, and Shaun and I finally made the move ourselves in 2024. Sometimes the places we visit don’t just leave us with memories—they quietly reshape our future.
Before I end, I should answer the question I asked at the beginning. Did you guess percussion? If so, you were right.
Maybe that’s fitting. Percussion isn’t always in the spotlight, but it’s the heartbeat of the band, keeping everyone moving forward. Looking back, that first band trip set the rhythm for a lifetime of travel. My dad may have jokingly called it my “traveling bug,” but I think he understood me better than I understood myself. Once I caught it, every journey led to another, and every destination left me with a story, a lesson, or a memory to carry home.
What trip first sparked your sense of adventure—or is there a destination still waiting to change your life?
Leah