I have followed the progress this week of a couple of 21st century-pioneers, my cousin and her husband, who are relocating to our area from 1,200 miles away.
My cousin and I share the same set of grandparents, a hardy couple who came to Roosevelt County 97 years ago. It is impossible to not compare the journeys.
Our grandparents traveled about 200 miles with a covered wagon, three young children, a few horses and cows, a small coop of chickens. They were on the road (I suspect I use the term loosely) for 17 days. Each night, they were careful to point the tongue of the wagon to the North Star before they slept, a low-tech global positioning system.
My cousin and her husband have a diesel truck and an enclosed trailer. Except for a number of unplanned adventures that lined the pockets of tire dealers in multiple states, their six-day journey might have been done in three. Modern meteorology allowed them to avoid inclement weather. They texted and emailed progress reports to us along the way.
I am grateful at least once a day (25 or 30 times on sandstorm days) that I was not a pioneer. I stand in awe of those who were.