Vacation 2016

I was on vacation a couple weeks back and went to my favorite place, Martha’s Vineyard. I enjoyed spending time with my wife and daughter, my in-laws, and a few cousins, aunts and uncles. Unfortunately, my son couldn’t make it due to his work schedule and I missed having him there with us. Despite him not being with us, it was a great week and brought back some memories for me.

Coming over to the island on the ferry, there were a lot of families with young kids and I couldn’t help but think back to when my kids were little and we made the trek over. Both my kids loved being on the boat and we’d either be outside or right next to a window. We’d watch the seagulls floating on the air, keeping pace with the boat and swooping in and grabbing a snack from a passenger’s outstretched hand. We’d talk about what we were going to do, which always included the beach, ice cream, and The Flying Horses. Those were some great times.

My wife and I walked up town our first evening there and got an ice cream. There’s nothing like an ice cream on a summer day. It made me think of my childhood and how special a treat it was to pile all the kids in the car, go for a cool off ride, and get an ice cream at the end. Even if our hands and arms were sticky with melted ice cream, it was worth the two hours or so of cooling off before we went back to the house where the only air conditioning was open windows and a big blue fan. Those were also some great times.

As I sat waiting for the fireworks to start on the 4^th of July, I was like a little kid, sitting and fidgeting, wondering why it was taking so long to start. When I was a kid, the town had our fireworks at the Little League fields. We’d walk up as a family, set out a blanket and wait what seemed like an eternity, and finally get to see them. It always seemed like it was too short a time for how long we waited. At some point, they stopped shooting off the fireworks in our town, probably realizing that it wasn’t safe enough where they were doing it. Those were some great times, too.

For the most part, I spent the week without shoes on. As soon as I got to the house, I pulled off the sneakers and socks and just let my feet breathe. It felt so good to go outside and feel the grass between my toes and be in direct contact with the ground. I had to put something on my feet to walk places, but that was it. It reminded me of being a kid and fighting with Mom because she wanted us to always have something on our feet and we didn’t want to. Running around in the yard, why would we need sneakers on? Playing wiffle ball in the yard, who needs sneakers? I knew I could run faster with bare feet. Just sitting around in the shade in our front yard and reading comic books certainly didn’t require something on our feet. Maybe Mom just hated having to clean our dirty feet after a fun day. Those were some really great times.

Vacation is over and it’s back to the real world, but I’ve been trying to go barefoot a little more than I was. I’m going to enjoy it as long as I can because in a few months we’ll have to be wearing socks and shoes, or sneakers, or (gasp) boots. By then my week in paradise will be but a distant memory, but I’ll have some happy feet. And some more great memories. 

Pictures in Time

Last week we had to submit pictures for my son’s high school yearbook, which included his senior picture and a picture from when he was a baby. As usual, we waited until the last day, so we spent the night before going through albums and boxes with an assortment of pictures. As much as it was kind of annoying to have to do that when I could have been getting my beauty rest, it also made me really happy. 

As I was going through the pictures of my kids when they were little, there were a few things that really stood out to me. Foremost, was that both kids were smiling and happy in almost every picture. I’m not just talking about posed, “say cheese” pictures, but also unplanned, unscripted pictures. That is how I remember them; smiling, laughing, playing, just doing the funny, goofy things kids do. Another thing that was quite noticeable was that my kids did a lot together. It was really hard finding a picture of just my son, all by himself. In almost all the pictures of him, my daughter was right there with him, both of them smiling and laughing. Somehow there were also quite a few pictures that included me with the kids, which amazed me since I don’t remember my wife taking all those pictures. However, I’m glad she did, and I was glad to find there were also a number of pictures of my wife with the kids. At least they can’t say we never spent time with them, because we’ve got the proof!

The sad part is that they probably don’t remember many of those times. I know I don’t remember much before first grade. Sure, I remember a few things here and there, but not a whole lot. Even when we’ve broken out old pictures with my family and talked about what was going on when the picture was taken, I either vaguely remember or I don’t remember at all. I’m in the pictures, so I know I was there, but the memories are gone. In one way it’s sad that I can’t remember those times, but in another way it’s nice to hear my older brothers and sisters talk about something that they remember so vividly.  

One of my uncles once took a bunch of pictures at a family party in our backyard when I was just a little guy, maybe about six years old. There were aunts, uncles, cousins, brothers, sisters, parents and grandparents at that party. He had them made into slides and years later he brought them and a projector to our house to show us. As we worked our way through the slides, I realized that one way or another I managed to get into a large percentage of the pictures. Here’s a picture of all the adults standing together as couples – with me lying on the ground, peeking out between someone’s legs. Here’s a picture of all the older kids – with me sticking my goofy face in from the side. Here’s a picture of random people standing around talking, unaware their being photographed at that moment – with me facing the camera with a cheese ball smile a mile wide. Strange, but I have absolutely no recollection of that event.

I’m sure that someday we’ll sit down with the kids, maybe even the grandkids, and look through those pictures and reminisce about that birthday party, or the time that my daughter made a whole snowperson family, or how my son always wore a hat or a visor, or the summer vacations on the Vineyard, or the first day of pre-school or kindergarten or first grade. Or hundreds of other things that my kids barely remember but I happily remember like they were just yesterday.   

Playing Games, Telling Stories and Singing Songs

My wife and I spent the weekend on Martha’s Vineyard and were on our way back to our car on the shuttle bus when a Dad and his kids caught our attention. This man was great with his kids and was fully engaged with them, something you don’t see enough these days. Pretty much from the time the ride started, he was playing games with the kids, especially a young girl who was probably about five-years old. They played thumb wars, they played I Spy, and they played Simon Says (no small feat in a dark vehicle, I must say). However, what truly impressed me was when the little girl asked to play the Quiet Game.

Listening to them brought back a lot of memories from when my kids were younger and we were on the road. We used to play games, tell stories and sing songs when we drove. Obviously, we didn’t play thumb wars, that would be hard (and dangerous) to play while driving a car around town. We did play a lot of I Spy and finding the alphabet on license plates and signs along the way. However, the Quiet Game was not one we played too much. I think it worked the first few times we played and then they caught on to the real reason my wife and I wanted to play. My kids never asked to play the Quiet Game.

Telling stories was always fun for us and the kids. We did it a couple of different ways. Sometimes we took turns telling a story, each one of us getting our own few minutes to weave a stunning narrative. Sometimes, one person would start a story and go on for a few minutes, say “and then…” and the next person would pick up from there. We usually went around the car once or twice, but there were occasions we went around three times if the story wasn’t fizzling out. On longer trips, after telling stories for a while and saying we needed a break, the kids would ask for one more. I’d say okay and let them know it was going to be a short one and then proceed to tell them this amazing tale, “Once upon a time. The end.” There would be howls of protest that it wasn’t even a story and I’d usually give in and tell them one last good one. 

Singing songs was another great way to pass the time in the car. We’d sing songs from the kids’ classes at church, oldies but goodies that everybody knows (B I N G O and Bingo was his name O!), songs from their CDs (yes, even at five or six, they had their own music), and other songs the kids and my wife and I liked. I preferred them singing Beatles’ songs than most of the stuff that was played on the radio. It also helped that my wife and both the kids are musically gifted. Heck, the kids even made up some songs of their own that were pretty good – and they both still write songs today.

As we got close to the parking lot, the little girl yawned and then said to her Dad, “I think I’m going to sleep in the car.” Her brother agreed shortly after and gave a hearty yawn himself. I thought that was a perfect ending to the night. They obviously had had a lot of fun and now they were spent. There were so many times on longer rides that our kids were laughing and singing and suddenly there was silence. One of us would take a peek back and they’d both be out cold, safe and secure, sleeping in a car like only kids can.

I hope that Dad enjoyed his ride home, realizing how special it is that he has a great relationship with his kids and realizing that there will come a day when they won’t think he’s the most awesome Dad in the world, a stage all kids go through. I’m sure he occasionally took a peek back at his sleeping kids just to make sure they were okay, and probably smiled as he thought about when they were babies and how quickly they had grown. I remember those days like it was yesterday, because in some ways it was. It doesn’t take long for them to go from sleeping in the back of the car, to asking if they can use the car to go over a friend’s house. I just hope my now grown kids have as fond memories of their younger years as I do.  

In the Blink of an Eye

It’s hard to believe that Labor Day has come and gone once again. Summer is over, at least unofficially. It seems that this year was really dragging, feeling like it was almost standing still, and then suddenly it whipped forward in a blur of activity. The months of January through June were so slow it felt like there were 40 days in each month. May and June were especially slow. They were like those cartoon dreams where you’re trying to run away from something and you realize you have cement blocks on your feet and you’re running in molasses. It seemed like the 4^th of July, and my vacation time, were somehow not getting any closer.

Finally, June turned to July. I took my usual vacation during the week of July 4^th and felt like summer was mercifully here. I relaxed, went down to the Vineyard and enjoyed some time with my wife. Then I made a huge mistake. I blinked and it was the end of August. That’s all it took, a quick blink of the eyes and 8 weeks were gone. Scientists say that time is constant, that there’s 60 seconds in a minute, 60 minutes in an hour, 24 hours in a day, and 7 days in a week. I either just proved them wrong or I’m living in some kind of time warp, because 8 weeks just went by in the blink of an eye.

I know that I didn’t pull a Rip Van Winkle and snooze through the whole summer because I remember things happening and being part of them. My wife and I did go down to the Vineyard while the kids were away in San Antonio at a conference, and we had a very relaxing time with my in-laws, my wife’s sister and her husband and their two awesome kids. We also went up to Vermont for a weekend in late July to attend a family reunion for my wife’s family. We hung out and talked with people we hadn’t seen in four years, we went tubing down the Battenkill River, and we ate a lot of good food. My brother who lives in Canada came down for a week or so and we got to see him and his wife at a cookout with my family. We went to a couple of parties down the Cape with friends and there were so many people in their back yard there was almost no room for my chair. We had some friends visit from Texas and spent a great afternoon reminiscing with them. We spent time with some of our good friends and counted our blessings that we have such awesome kids. My wife and I celebrated our 23^rd Anniversary in August. Looking back now, I guess we really did enjoy the summer.

So summer is almost gone and fall is just around the corner, like it or not. As I mentioned last year, I’m going to enjoy any summer-like days that happen to come along over the fall. There are still a lot of nice days to enjoy and it’s not like it will suddenly be freezing outside. Who knows, maybe we’ll have another mild winter like we did last year and we’ll be outside all the way to spring. Let’s just hope the next few months don’t go by as quickly as the last two. I’m still recovering from the whiplash.

Time to Get Away

Summertime means vacation time. I try to take two weeks of vacation over the summer, usually a week in July and a week in August. My week in July is usually the week that includes July 4^th. Not only is it a great week to have off from work, but I only have to use four days of vacation time because of the holiday. I have spent the 4^th of July on the island of Martha’s Vineyard for the last 27 years, except for two, maybe three years. I think my kids have missed one 4^th of July on the Vineyard in their lives and they’re eighteen and fifteen.

It has been great going to the Vineyard over the years, from the time when the kids were little up to the present. We’ve gone to the beach, we’ve gone to the playground, we’ve gone for ice cream, we’ve gone shopping (more like browsing at all the things we can’t afford) and we’ve gone to the parade on the 4^th. But no trip to the Vineyard was complete without going to the Flying Horses. The kids would beg to go there and it was never soon enough for them, even if we went the first day. When they were really young, we had to go on with them and stand next to them, but as they got older they went on their own. As you go around, you grab rings out of a metal device, one for the people on the inside and one for the people on the outside, and as you get better you can do multiple rings at a time. At the end they put in brass rings and two lucky people get to stay on for a free ride. On one incredible day, both of my kids got the brass ring on the same ride and got to go for a free ride! It is truly amazing to see people of all ages on the carousel, many of whom have been riding it since they were kids, like my wife. Even though you can’t keep the rings, everyone does their best to grab as many as they can. The Vineyard, including the Flying Horses, holds many good memories for me, my wife and our kids.

We didn’t really do vacations when I was growing up, but that doesn’t mean we didn’t have any fun. We had an above-ground pool in the backyard and we used it a lot. That is, except for the year my younger brother and I decided to spray a hornets’ nest with the hose. We thought it was pretty funny when they couldn’t fly and fell to the ground, but it wasn’t very funny for the week or so afterward when you couldn’t go in the backyard without getting attacked. We played games in the pool, had contests to see who could stay underwater the longest and we made whirlpools and floated along on the current. I don’t know how he did it, but my younger brother could float forever. To this day, I’d be in big trouble if my life depended on me floating for a long time. 

We also had a huge tent and my father and older brothers would set it up in the backyard and we’d go “camping”. We’d take our flashlights, sleeping bags and pillows out to our campsite and pretend we were in the middle-of-nowhere. We’d read our Mad magazines or our Archie or Sad Sack comic books, we’d tell jokes and we’d laugh like we had not a care in the world. Because we didn’t; life was good in the wilderness. Unless my older brothers would tell scary stories, then I did have a care. I had a very vivid imagination back then and envisioned things even worse than they talked about. And if one of them happened to slip out without being seen, they would hit the sides of the tent, or put their face up to one of the tent windows with a flashlight eerily lighting their face, or scream and yell right on cue with the story being told. Whatever they did, it had the desired effect of scaring us younger ones. Good thing Mom and Dad were just 50 feet away!

On really hot summer nights, we’d all pile in the car and go for a cool off ride. No, there wasn’t an air conditioner in the car; we just rode with the windows open. Sometimes we just took a little trip around town, sometimes we drove to a beach. No matter where we went, it usually ended with an ice cream for everybody. There’s nothing like an ice cream on a hot night. It was always a race to eat most, if not all, your ice cream before it turned into a melted, runny mess on your hands, arms and clothes. Then it was back into the car for another cool ride and the trip back home, where there was no air conditioning and only a couple of fans. But at least for an hour or two there was some relief.

I enjoy going away on vacation as a family with my wife and kids. I don’t want to think about what it will be like when my daughter and son are on their own and don’t go with us anymore. That will be a sad day for me and I hope it doesn’t happen for a long time, if ever. If it does happen though, I’ll have a wealth of memories from the years we did take some time to get away together. However, in reality it doesn’t really matter whether you’re camping out in your backyard or sitting on a beach miles away from home. As much as I love the Vineyard, I learned a long time ago that it’s not the vacation spot that’s so important, but rather those with whom you’re vacationing.