Ms. Parker and her husband, Mr. Jim Rogers, covered 116 countries in a three-year overland journey that made the Guinness World Record
My memoir, Don’t Call Me Mrs Rogers, details how overland travel can be trying on the soul, mind, and worse, on my relationship with Jim, who became my husband on our epic adventure.
The Pretenders’ lyrics, “It’s a thin line between love and hate”, rang true. Still, with no other option, we relied on one another, and our roughest times paled when compared to the moments when we cherished each other for what we were sharing. We no longer needed to gaze at the other. We looked ahead, often together, separately as often.
While completing the first draft of my book, I became a mother, the keeper of a tremendously important gem. My body housed a miracle. I became more important than ever, offering life.
As my belly expanded, I longed to sweep my daughter away to the glorious mountain pass in Turkey, where Jim and I had daydreamed of a child. I imagined she would learn Mandarin, then Spanish. I planned to take her to Calcutta.
I found pregnancy and imminent motherhood to be a privilege, and upon her arrival, my journey made complete sense. I no longer needed validation: the significance of my adventure could be as simple as making me a better mother, daughter, wife and friend. The world had shaped me – and would shape my child.
And now as this book (finally) comes to print, the first daughter, Happy, is fifteen, with a 10-year-old sister, Bee. They know me as a ‘fun’ Tiger Mom, embedded in a marvelously manic life in Singapore with scores of friends and causes that feed my soul.
When my girls read of my struggles and strengths, my frustrations and forthrightness, they will gain a glimpse into a passage of my life that will inspire them – and other readers, I hope – to go forth to the unknown, to fight what is wrong and to possess a curiosity and keenness to learn and explore independently.