Vacations are synonymous with summer.
Growing up, I was one of four children – the eldest, wisest,
and best looking, by the way - and as a family of six, our vacations took some serious
front end prep. Other than the typical logistics of packing, loading the
station wagon, mapping out routes, and securing lodging, our trips required
some creative planning. My dad was a minister and mom had her hands full at
home with 3 boys and a girl – 6 ½ years separating the four of us. We traveled
on a budget. We ate PBJs, chips, and Vienna sausages at roadside picnic tables
or while we rolled down the road if time was of the essence. McDonalds was a
rare treat. Incredibly rare. Destinations typically involved family – visiting
grandparents in Virginia, North Carolina, or on the coast of South Carolina.
This kept costly hotels out of the picture. We got to know state welcome
centers and rest stops fairly well. Our station wagons – the UPS-brown
wood-grained Brown Bomber and it’s successor, the pea green wood-grained Green
Ghost – were the perfect vehicles for us, too. My favorite spot was the
back-in-the-back – the rear facing bench seat that gave you a completely
different perspective on your travel. You could see where you’ve been, make
faces at the vehicles behind you, but most importantly, you could escape from
those pesky siblings and simply stare out of a bigger window and wonder about
life. When we laid down all rear seats of our station wagon, all four of us
kids could easily sleep on a queen-sized pallet of blankets. Seat belts? We
didn’t need no stinkin’ seat belts!
People were safer drivers then, I guess. After all, unfolding a paper
map and rotating it 16 times is much less distracting than glancing at a cell
phone map. Besides, that back end sleeping arrangement saved the money that a
hotel room would have cost. Now, I’m actually considering adding a nifty wood
grain wrap to our Kia Sorrento in honor of these classics. I’m sure my wife
wouldn’t mind. In fact, that might make for a pleasant surprise when she walks
out onto our driveway. I’ll file that
one away for future consideration.
We loved every minute of our vacation travel, too. Well,
maybe not the few minutes of elbowing in the backseat or the occasional arm
punch that quickly followed with a loud explanation about how either or both
siblings had illegally crossed over into occupied territory. “He’s in my space
– the defense rests.” Judge Daddy hardly ever ruled in favor of the plaintiff
or defense. His ruling typically involved a threat of punishment delivered
equally across the hind end of all parties. That was effective because he would
actually stop the car, not just throw out empty warnings. Notwithstanding the normal
adolescent backseat shenanigans that would usually show up after rounds of "I
Spy" and various alphabet games had lost their luster, our trips were wonderful
and memorable. We knew no different and we enjoyed the company of each other.
Pop made it an adventure and Mom was a capable copilot. We kids just went along
and experienced all that we could.
For most of my childhood and teen years, we spent our
summers ocean front in Pappy and Granny’s teal beach house on stilts
(the Surf Pearl) at Surfside, South Carolina. Days of sand castles, shells, and
surf were what we lived for, it seemed. I’ll have more to say about the beach
in a later post. Needless to say, life was grand while we were there.
Periodically, we would wind our way through the mountain
roads that snaked through North Carolina, the eastern tip of Tennessee, and the
southwest corner of Virginia until we reached Pawpaw and Grandma’s home in
Cedar Bluff. Those hairpin turns were unnerving and the vistas were
mesmerizing. Once there, we’d play with cousins, throw lots of baseball, and
take daily walks up to the corner convenience store next to Aunt Chris’s beauty
shop, where Grandma would treat us to orange push-ups, half of which would
trickle down our hands and chins and end up on our shirts and shorts during our
walk back.
Pappy and Granny had another home, this one in the shadow of the Smokies
in Saluda, North Carolina. This antique three-story wooden palace and
surrounding woodlands offered lots of adventures for us kids. I don’t think the
house was haunted, but it should have been. I was pretty sure that ghosts were
missing an excellent opportunity. Granny’s treasure hunts and hide-and-seek
were the things of legend in this house. We were always thrilled when Pappy
would crank up the riding mower and load us in the attached wagon trailer for
an excursion through the woods and around the property. The highlight of the
trip, though, may have been ending our days of adventure with snacks on the
screened-in porch, watching the black-capped chickadees take their own snack
from the bird feeder.
Every now and then, our vacations were a little more
extravagant. Pop bought a camper that hooked onto the back of our station
wagon, again to battle the cost of hotels and eating out when we traveled. And
we were going to travel, by golly. We took the obligatory trip to
Disney World
in Orlando, visited our nation’s capital, hiked up
Stone Mountain – all while
making our home base the nearby Jellystone campgrounds. I’ll never forget
trekking across to bathhouses for showers, only to get our feet dirty on
the way back. Nor will I forget waking to the smell of bacon that Pop was
frying in our electric skillet. Best. Bacon. Ever.
Then there was the trip of all trips. Pop had left the
pulpit and become a successful insurance rep. I guess he saw college looming in
the near future for 4 kids. His efforts often earned wonderful trips for he and
my mom. They’ve been to destinations like Switzerland, Hawai’i, Miami, and
Montreal, taken numerous cruises, and seen wonderful sites all over the globe.
For some reason, they didn’t always take us kids along. We did travel as a
family unit, however, on one of the most memorable vacations ever. Pop had won
a trip to San Diego this particular year and must have decided a flight out to
the west coast and a week in sunny southern California for just he and my mom
would be way too peaceful and relaxing. So, instead, we loaded up the family
car and hit the road, Griswold Vacation style.
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Beignet image courtesy of
NewOrleansOnline.com |
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Image courtesy of
Houston.culturemap.com |
An overnight drive brought us to our first stop – New
Orleans – where I had my first heavenly bite of a beignet from
Café du Monde.
Powdered sugar perfection.
From there we continued our
jaunt westward down I-10
to Houston and the NASA Johnson Space Center. I saw the enormous rockets there, not
knowing that I’d soon be seeing the stars. Leaving Houston, we chased the sun
until we reached the mouth of Carlsbad Caverns in New Mexico. Our car, a couple
of picnic tables, and a tiny gift shop/ticket booth were the only signs of
civilization in this expanse of scrub brush and cactus. Seizing the moment, my
dad and I took a couple of sleeping bags and proceeded to sleep on the picnic
tables under the stars. I’d never seen so many stars! I imagined traveling
among them in one of those rockets we had seen previously at NASA. Needless to
say, it took quite some time to finally drift off under that blanket of natural
beauty. Well, the coyote calls played a role in that as well. We awoke to the
scuffling of deer in the grey pre-dawn and I knew that I had just been a part
of a magical experience. After exploring the caverns and almost being kicked
out because Pop just had to touch a
stalactite, we journeyed ever westward.
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| Image courtesy of NPS Photo/Peter Jones |
We finally reached San Diego and had a
blast at the resort. Yes, a real live resort! With a pool! We saw the sights in
San Diego and day-tripped to Los Angeles, Hollywood, Tijuana, and Anaheim. The San DiegoZoo surpassed our expectations, Disneyland was not as impressive as it’s
Orlando counterpart, the tour of Universal Studios was well worth it, and Hollywood elicited open-mouthed gawks and stares at
both the glitzy extravagance and not-so-subtle weirdness (not much has changed,
I guess). Way too soon, we loaded up once again, this time for our trip home…which
included the Petrified Forest, Painted Desert and Grand Canyon. We couldn’t
just drive straight back. Thankfully.
What stands out to me about our epic holiday is that it was
more about the journey than the destination. It’s amazing what you can
sometimes experience along the way if you’ll allow the way to share focus with
the endpoint.
I certainly have a travelin’ jones. Whether it is innate or
instilled I don’t know. I have a feeling I was born with a yearning to wander
and that it was nurtured by my parents, who like to wander themselves. Because
of this, I treasure vacations. Taking a holiday is refreshing, revitalizing,
reconnecting, rewarding. But it’s something more, too. It satisfies some instinctual
desire to explore and experience, even temporarily. I long for those moments
and detest their conclusions. Maybe that’s why I love summer so. For it is traditionally
then that we get away.
So, today’s tune is called “
Holiday” and can be found on Jimmy
Buffett’s
Banana Wind album. It’s not his best effort lyrically and sounds
almost like a 50’s era ad for Delta Airlines or Howard Johnson or Miami Beach.
Still, it’s a fun little number - it fits - and I find myself singing along every time I
hear it and for hours afterwards. The idea is simple – get away, have some fun,
reconnect with what’s truly important. We could all use that, don’t you think?
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| Image courtesy of Amazon.com |
