The Grand-Kid 2026 Road Trip officially began today in Abingdon, Virginia, where I met up with my daughter, Dawn, and my two youngest grandchildren, Katharyne and Whit. This, like every great expedition begins with a carefully crafted plan, and the experienced grandparent knows that the plan will survive only as a shadow of what we actually end up doing.
Our first destination was the Barter Theatre, one of the true cultural treasures of Appalachia. The timing seemed appropriate. We had barely assembled our traveling party before finding ourselves seated for a performance of Guys and Dolls, a musical featuring gamblers, hustlers, and romantics.
The Barter Theatre owes its existence to one of the more creative business plans in American history. During the depths of the Great Depression, actor Robert Porterfield returned to his native Virginia with a simple observation: people in the mountains might not have much cash, but they still had chickens, eggs, vegetables, and country hams. In 1933 he opened the theater and invited patrons to pay for admission with farm goods. His famous slogan was, “With vegetables you cannot sell, you can buy a good laugh.”
Thus the Barter Theatre was born.
Imagine explaining that business model to a modern MBA program. “Our revenue projections indicate strong growth in sweet potatoes, two dozen eggs, and a suspiciously large number of hams.” Yet somehow it worked. Local farmers received entertainment, actors received food, and the theater survived. In an era when many institutions were collapsing, this one quite literally ran on barter.
The production of Guys and Dolls was excellent. The cast delivered enough energy to light a small city, and the audience responded in kind. Watching a Broadway classic in a historic theater founded on the exchange of produce for tickets felt like a uniquely American experience—equal parts entrepreneurship, optimism, and refusal to quit.
I found myself thinking that this trip is really about the same thing. We are not crossing mountains in covered wagons, nor are we paying for admission with livestock. But we are investing something valuable: time together. Ten days from now, the mileage will be forgotten, many of the meals will blur together, and I may not remember every road we traveled. What I will remember is sharing the journey with Katharyne, and Whit.
That seems like a pretty fair trade - a good barter.
