And I am traveling traveling traveling
My sister and I were talking on the phone last night. She is hankerin' for a new mini-van, as she says plaintively "All the other moms have one." She wants to be able to hit a button and have the doors open and the seats go down and all that good stuff. I commented that she probably wanted a DVD player in the mini-van too, but I would only let her get that option if she never allowed her kids to emulate that commercial. She knew exactly which commercial I was talking about.
You might remember it too. The family is on a long distance trip, Mom and Dad in the front and the kids are happily watching Bugs Bunny on the DVD system. The only problem? They are driving through some of the most amazing scenery the Southwest has to offer. We're talking monumental rock formations in gorgeous shades of red and orange and that impossibly blue sky overhead. And the kids are oblivious.
When we were kids, my parents used to load us in the car or the trailer or the motorhome for vacation and off we would go. Usually our travels took us to Arizona, New Mexico or Utah, although one year, we actually traveled all the way to West Virginia to visit my grandparents. There were three of us and although I am sure there were times when we were bored to tears, what both my sister and I remember is how great these trips were.
Sure it was tough to keep three kids contented on our long days of travel, but my parents made it fun. My dad used to challenge us to look for things. Not license plates; although we got really good at that game too; but really unusual things. He offered five bucks to the first one who saw a roadrunner. It kept us busy for hours. Sally says one of us actually won five bucks at some point, we are both certain it wasn't us, mainly because neither of us had the actual patience for that kind of thing like my brother did.
My particular passion were the trading posts. You know, those "Indian" trading posts, where the kitschy souvenirs compete with actual Navajo rugs and turquoise jewelry. I had a deep-seated need to stop at every single one of them, despite my chronic lack of money. I was content to simply browse the treasures to be found within. My parents rarely indulged me; if we had stopped as often as I begged, we never would have made it more than 50 miles a day!
I also adored the milkshakes you could get a roadside chain called Stuckey's. Pretty much the only milkshakes I ever got at home were McDonald's shakes, which were good, but couldn't compare to the thick, ice-creamy shakes to be found at Stuckey's. We would see the the signs advertising the next location about 50 miles out. Then I would start pestering. We almost never stopped, but I was always optimistic that this time we just might.
We saw it all. The Grand Canyon, Zion National Park, Chaco Canyon, The Badlands, Little Bighorn. We climbed cliffs with native dwellings carved out of the sandstone, we peered into adobe pueblos and imagined what life was like before the inhabitants vanished. I walked the battlefield of Little Bighorn and communed with the men, both white and native, that had died there. We read everything we could find about the places we had visited and looked forward to every family trip.
One night in Montana, there was a giant thunder and lighting storm. If you have never seen the Western version of lighting, you haven't seen lighting. It lit up the entire sky. And deafened you with the loud BOOMS of thunder. My sister was terrified. The rest of us liked to watch the show, but when it was time to go to bed, there was my sister, entirely unable to sleep with all this KABOOMing going on.
I had recently starred in Once Upon a Mattress with my summer acting group for young people. I ended up reciting and singing the entire thing to my sister as we lay in the upper bunk over the driver's seat, to distract her from the storm. It worked. And I have a memory of my sister and I that I will never lose.
Only one of the multitude of memories my parents made possible. Somehow I don't think an in-car movie would carry the same significance.
You might remember it too. The family is on a long distance trip, Mom and Dad in the front and the kids are happily watching Bugs Bunny on the DVD system. The only problem? They are driving through some of the most amazing scenery the Southwest has to offer. We're talking monumental rock formations in gorgeous shades of red and orange and that impossibly blue sky overhead. And the kids are oblivious.
When we were kids, my parents used to load us in the car or the trailer or the motorhome for vacation and off we would go. Usually our travels took us to Arizona, New Mexico or Utah, although one year, we actually traveled all the way to West Virginia to visit my grandparents. There were three of us and although I am sure there were times when we were bored to tears, what both my sister and I remember is how great these trips were.
Sure it was tough to keep three kids contented on our long days of travel, but my parents made it fun. My dad used to challenge us to look for things. Not license plates; although we got really good at that game too; but really unusual things. He offered five bucks to the first one who saw a roadrunner. It kept us busy for hours. Sally says one of us actually won five bucks at some point, we are both certain it wasn't us, mainly because neither of us had the actual patience for that kind of thing like my brother did.
My particular passion were the trading posts. You know, those "Indian" trading posts, where the kitschy souvenirs compete with actual Navajo rugs and turquoise jewelry. I had a deep-seated need to stop at every single one of them, despite my chronic lack of money. I was content to simply browse the treasures to be found within. My parents rarely indulged me; if we had stopped as often as I begged, we never would have made it more than 50 miles a day!
I also adored the milkshakes you could get a roadside chain called Stuckey's. Pretty much the only milkshakes I ever got at home were McDonald's shakes, which were good, but couldn't compare to the thick, ice-creamy shakes to be found at Stuckey's. We would see the the signs advertising the next location about 50 miles out. Then I would start pestering. We almost never stopped, but I was always optimistic that this time we just might.
We saw it all. The Grand Canyon, Zion National Park, Chaco Canyon, The Badlands, Little Bighorn. We climbed cliffs with native dwellings carved out of the sandstone, we peered into adobe pueblos and imagined what life was like before the inhabitants vanished. I walked the battlefield of Little Bighorn and communed with the men, both white and native, that had died there. We read everything we could find about the places we had visited and looked forward to every family trip.
One night in Montana, there was a giant thunder and lighting storm. If you have never seen the Western version of lighting, you haven't seen lighting. It lit up the entire sky. And deafened you with the loud BOOMS of thunder. My sister was terrified. The rest of us liked to watch the show, but when it was time to go to bed, there was my sister, entirely unable to sleep with all this KABOOMing going on.
I had recently starred in Once Upon a Mattress with my summer acting group for young people. I ended up reciting and singing the entire thing to my sister as we lay in the upper bunk over the driver's seat, to distract her from the storm. It worked. And I have a memory of my sister and I that I will never lose.
Only one of the multitude of memories my parents made possible. Somehow I don't think an in-car movie would carry the same significance.
posted by allison | 6:47 PM
2 Comments:
It sounds wonderful! The kind of wonderful where I wish I were doing it right now.
Callie
I totally remember that stupid storm, I swear to god I thought we were going to be electrocuted in the middle of nowhere!
Thanks again, sis!
p.s. regarding the minivan, for the record, I would never get one of the damn dvd's in there no matter what -- it rots your brain you know and I'm too busy raising geniuses to let them watch crap!
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