My Nevada story began with a family trip through the Silver State

When I was about 12 years old, my family took a trip down along the east side of the Sierra Nevada on our way to Lake Havasu, California, during Spring Break 1986.

All six of us piled into the family Ford Econoline Trail Wagon, brand new at the time, and set out to break in the new set of wheels.

From our home in Pleasant Hill, Oregon, about 15 miles east of Eugene, we headed south on Interstate 5 until we reached Mount Shasta in Northern California. There we traveled southeast until we got to U.S. Highway 395 and then south again.

Our crew — mom, dad, myself, an older sister and two younger brothers — reached Reno and cruised right through town on Virginia Street.

From there, we wound our way up Geiger Grade into Virginia City, where we all quenched our thirst at the Bucket of Blood Saloon on C Street. I drank my first sasparilla there.

My first night spent in Nevada was, ironically, in Carson City where I now live and have resided for more than a decade.

But where exactly we stayed I couldn't tell you. I was only 12, after all, and more interested in trying to beat my siblings at card games in the back of the van than observing the names of motels mom and dad had booked us into.

We stayed on U.S. Highway 395 out of Carson City the next morning, paralleling the eastern Sierra Nevada and maintaining a southern course all the way to Death Valley.

The temperature in one of the hottest places on earth was about 110 degrees when we arrived there in late March.

Needless to say, we didn't stay to explore the area. Dad hated hot weather more than he disliked traveling.

"It's hotter than hell here," he'd say just about anywhere the temperature spiked above 90 degrees.

I really don't remember what Dad said about Death Valley, but I can only imagine it was something like this:

"Damn place is so hot, the demons go to hell to cool off."

And so we moved on, eastward into the Amargosa Valley where we caught U.S. Highway 95 at Beatty and made a bee-line for the air-conditioned motel room waiting for us further south.

Driving down the Las Vegas Strip 33 years ago was nothing like it is today. Most all of the old casinos from the Rat Pack Days and before were still standing. Many were still in business.

Street walkers, dressed in their bright-colored finery and animal prints, strutted along Las Vegas Boulevard. As a 12 year-old boy, I was beginning to find such sights more interesting.

Then it happened.

Dad slammed on the brakes of the Ford Trail Wagon, sending me hurtling forward toward the front console, where I caught myself on the wood drink tray that literally broke my skid.

"Damn SOB!" Dad cursed at the cars in front of him.

A brand new family rig, and I busted the nice wooden veneer drink tray that Dad later glued back onto the console.

If Dad hated the heat, then he hated traffic congestion more. We didn't stop in Sin City. Dad wanted to get the heck out of Vegas the quickest way possible, which, of course, was not the Las Vegas Strip.

We eventually did, Dad cursing all the way out of town.

Then onward to Boulder City, where we rested in our air-conditioned rooms. Funny thing about Boulder City: There were no casinos.

We saw them in Reno, Virginia City, Carson City and Las Vegas. But not there.

The next morning, we crossed Hoover Dam into Arizona and finished our trip on the west shore of Lake Havasu.

That is how my Nevada story began. It's not over, either, even though this is my final column and last day as a staff member of Carson Now.

I have moved on to the Nevada Department of Tourism and Cultural Affairs, working closely with the folks at TravelNevada, the nerve center of the Silver State's tourism industry.

The point of my story is to remind us of what being a visitor is all about.

I know there are local residents who feel less kindly toward tourists. There are also Nevadans with a particular animosity toward out-of-state visitors.

I was that way many years ago working my way through college at a tourist resort. My co-workers and I often boasted that we could always spot a "domer," a tourist who leaves the dome light in their car on so they can read maps.

I have long since grown up.

I've been both an in-state and out-of-state visitor, as well as a foreign tourist at various points in my life.

I know how it feels to be a "fish out of water" (no pun intended) trying to enjoy strange surroundings.

Unless you have recently crawled out from under a rock or emerged from an off-the-grid compound out in the middle of no where, we have all been visitors and tourists before.

Tourism is a key industry for the Silver State; a destination not just for gaming, but also for outdoor recreation, art, science, history and culture.

According to figures from the Nevada Department of Tourism and Cultural Affairs, visitors to Nevada spent just shy of $40 billion here in 2017; money that fueled our statewide economy by paying workers, developing economic partnerships, and stimulating business growth.

Nearly 460,000 jobs were created by tourism capital in that time and room tax revenue increased by more than 45 percent in 2017; generating funds to state and local governments to pay for public services that residents use.

Silver State visitors poured more than $37 billion of state gross domestic product into Nevada, accounting for about 24 percent of its entire economy.

Tourism, like it or not, benefits us all.

When visitors spend money at restaurants, lodging, museums, souvenir or gift shops and other tourism venues, that money goes to pay employees, who then turn around and spend that money on necessities and wants. Their spending supports others, too.

From grocery and other retail stores to energy producers; from automobile and recreational vehicle dealerships to real estate offices and numerous other product and service vendors, the money that tourism puts in our pockets gets spent and spread around the community, supporting other businesses, workers and jobs that we all need to make a living with.

Nonprofits also benefit when more people in the community have more money to give to charity.

I was humbly reminded of this interconnection to community when I began responding this week to elementary-aged children who were writing to TravelNevada and requesting information to help them learn about our state.

As children learn through bite-sized pieces of information, their appetites to know more grows. Pretty soon, they are hinting to mom and dad about a vacation they want to spend in a place called Nevada.

Parents then bring with them purchasing power to spend money on their Silver State vacation, pumping capital into the GDP and making Nevada's economy stronger.

On Friday of this week, I walked over to the Nevada State Capitol building on a break and took photos of an orange-colored paper cut-out tiger mailed to me from elementary school students in Illinois.

They wanted me photograph their mascot, Tim the Tiger, visiting key places in Carson City that represented Nevada. I happily obliged them, snapping pictures of Tim in front of the Capitol and important statues on the plaza.

I then emailed those photos to the class, which will see them Monday after they get to school. I can only imagine their excitement when they see their little orange paper tiger waving to them from in front of our Capitol.

Folks, this is what tourism is really about for me and my colleagues at TravelNevada.

Tourism isn't just about the money. It's about experiencing something new and exciting.

It's about making memories and sharing them with others.

And it's about coming back again, maybe years later, to a place that left an indelible impression on the human imagination.

As for me, my Nevada story continues. New chapter, same book. I can't wait to see what's in store for me on this new, exciting adventure into the Silver State.

This is me, signing off on Carson Now. Hasta luego, mis amigos, somewhere in Nevada.