Tina Hedin

In the early 1900’s, the Great Northern Railroad created a marketing campaign to promote domestic travel called “See America First.” A century later, the idea behind the slogan is still important: a call to enjoy – and better understand – the land and people of this magnificently diverse country.

Over 20 years ago, my husband and I, and our young daughter, left suburban life, careers, and everything familiar, to travel through America and try a different way of living. When we left home, I thought I already knew this country.

I’d crossed the US a few times as a kid. I’d seen the Grand Canyon, the beaches of Florida, and the cliffs of Big Sur. But I’d also spent most of my life in the suburbs of New York City. I was accustomed to being five minutes from a food co-op and an independent bookstore.

I didn’t know then, there are many Americas. Our regions can feel as varied as foreign countries.

Everyone says, “people are the same everywhere” and it’s true, we want the same basic things: love, safety, respect. But my life has been enriched by the differences I’ve encountered.

Living on the road ​with our young child, we visited playgrounds everywhere. We’d roll into some small town, find the local park, and quickly try to make new friends. I found myself talking to people ​very different from myself.

These days, I’m not going to playgrounds, but I’m still connecting with strangers out here on the road. I don’t always like everyone I m​eet, but I like broadening my world. If I’d stayed in one place, I might still think I knew everything I needed to know about my country.

There’s much about America I still don’t know.

Sometimes when I’m trying to fall asleep, I let the vistas of this country roll through my mind like a movie. The plains of Kansas, the desert of New Mexico. The Permian Basin oil fields. The South Carolina low country. The freeways of LA. So different, with unique environmental and economic concerns, distinct cultural differences, regional foods, and of course, those cinematic landscapes.

America the Beautiful. It’s not all beautiful but most of it is just spectacular.

Our lives as Americans are enriched by learning what we can find to love about a region beyond our hometown or state. And we will always want to protect what we love.

Yes, travel the world if you can. But first, start here.

As I’ve criss-crossed America over the years, I’ve seen towns and cities homogenized by chain stores.

Big box stores define much of our suburban landscapes, to the extent that shopping seems like all there is to do. Almost everywhere in America, recreational shopping is a form of entertainment or an escape from boredom. But are we getting what we really desire?

I hear from many people that they feel weighed down by their possessions. Lots of us feel overwhelmed by the number of things in our closets and garage. Many are concerned about the volume of stuff going into landfills. You’ll no longer find a repair shop in every town; we just throw away and buy new.

I live in a 22-foot travel trailer, and people often ask what it’s like to live small. I have found freedom in having less. Not just the physical freedom to travel but a mental freedom that comes when we’re relieved of extra stuff.

Despite the oppressive consumerism confronting us at every turn, I notice a growing urge in this country to live more simply. There are many Americans, especially young people, who want to live with less, and are seeking to collect experiences rather than more possessions.

America’s parks and public lands are the antidote to consumer culture. In every state, we have parks and preserves, ​wild refuges and green city spaces. Setting aside many public places for people to be outside – for recreation, rest, socializing, sports and adventure – is one of the things America has done right.

Do you want to see a side of America that will leave you feeling hopeful about our future? Go to a local park where neighbors gather. Visit a trail or nature preserve and rest alone in quiet. Seek out one of the less-visited National Parks or Monuments. Find a state park and try hiking or camping. Meet and be inspired by some of the dedicated rangers and volunteers who staff these places.

People who camp like to say, “you meet some of the best people camping.” I would expand it to say, “you meet some of the best people outside.”

Traveling around the US and getting outside has made me more trusting, and more grateful for those who are out there on the trails and beaches, in the forests and the parks. I’ve met people who have offered help, taught me something new, and shared their enthusiasm for the outdoors. People who are not only enjoying America’s best places but are often willing to help preserve and protect them. And they’re probably looking at their phones a bit less than everyone else.

Because I write about living with grief, I’ve had the honor of connecting with many people who are carrying great losses. We are called brave and resilient – and we are – but we’re hurting.

In America, our go-go culture often does not allow for the rest and quiet space that grievers need.

I move through my days as a bereaved parent, someone who has lost her only child. I meet other people like me who are carrying a weight of sadness, yet still need to function, go to work, care for their families. We go on because we have no other choice.

We are grieving lost children, partners, parents, friends

We are grieving illness, trauma, and gun violence.

We are grieving ecological losses and disasters, conflicts, and wars.

We are lonely and disconnected from human contact.

After the death of my daughter, I felt a desperate need to know how people survive the worst, if survival was even possible. Now I know there are many of us. I have met people who have channeled their despair into activism, others who help more quietly, and many who are doing all they can just to get themselves through another day.

I look at people differently now, knowing anyone I meet might be carrying something very sad or difficult. We want to feel ​that our pain is acknowledged and that someone understands. When we share our grief on a personal level, we can find hope.

You could spend your whole life reading, and not run out of true stories about inspiring Americans who have turned their lives around. But these stories of reinvention are not just in books. They’re found in every town in America, in our own families, in our own lives. In America, we not only love the possibility of reinvention, we know it’s available to anyone.

Years ago, my husband and I, burnt-out and longing for something different, left home to travel with our young daughter. Since then, that kind of radical move has become more common. People no longer see careers as a choice you make in high school or college and stick with for a lifetime. We talk now about second acts, third acts​, and beyond.

I’ve seen a growing acceptance of the bold move, the idea of leaving one life and starting a new one, whether through career change or relocation, education or travel.

Maybe we’re dissatisfied and restless, but I think it’s more likely we’re engaging with that very American idea: the pursuit of happiness. We know America is a country where change is always possible. We just need to make it.