Although I had previously embarked on an epic trip with my mom, our family trip to Wyoming is the first family vacation I remember. I was 7, which meant my brother was 3. We piled in my parents’ Jeep Eagle — tricked out with both A/C and a tape deck, though my dad shut off the air and opened the windows when either of them smoked a cigarette — and took off west on Highway 2.
We made it all the way to Leech Lake (about an hour from home) before my dad had to pull over so my brother could pee on the side of the road. Why does that stand out in my memory? Was it because Leech Lake was huge and I’d never seen it before? Because it was funny that my brother was going on the side of the road? Because my dad seemed disgusted that we had to stop so soon? I’m not sure, but 40 years later, the moment is clear as a bell.
Other moments that stand out from that trip:
The road trip soundtrack (thanks to that tape deck!) was The Beach Boys, Juice Newton, Air Supply, and ABBA.
Some of our hotels had pools! All of them had air conditioning! One time we walked across the street to a restaurant for dinner!
I lost a bird earring in one hotel. It was 24K gold, and my mom is still heartbroken over it.
We had brought a portable tape player and blank tapes on the trip, and my brother and I would record ourselves talking and singing. During one of these sessions, my mom was driving while my dad was trying to nap. We captured his, “Hey kids, you want to keep it down a tad?” on one of our tapes and thought it was hilarious.
It was a hot summer, and my brother was a cuddler, and midway through the trip I started refusing to share a bed with him. This carried over to every family vacation afterwards — my poor parents.
My parents’ friends’ daughter had TWO hamsters in a giant cage!
We all went horseback riding in the mountains, got lost, and ended up on an hours-long adventure. I loved it.
I heard this platitude for the first time: “Only boring people get bored.”
On the way home, we stayed in a cabin near the Black Hills. There were thunderstorms and the roof leaked, so we had pots and pans set out all over the place. We played cards and watched wild horses run in the distance. It was magical.
The most famous, family-lore-worthy story happened at Mount Rushmore on one of our last days. We were all standing on the observation platform, looking up at the sculpture of four of our country’s presidents. I did not yet understand the multiple problematic aspects regarding the monument, so I was blissfully in awe of the enormous sculptures on the side of the mountain. After about 10-15 minutes in the crowd of onlookers, all of us gazing in the same direction, there was a sudden burst of excitement from my little brother as he yelled at the top of his 3-year-old voice, “LOOK AT THOSE FOUR GUYS UP THERE!!!” I’ll bet the man next to him — who nearly dropped his camera — still tells that story.
As I read over these anecdotes, I realize that although they are crystal clear in my mind, they almost certainly contain the inaccuracies of a 47-year-old remembering events through the lens of a 7-year-old. I also notice that, with the notable exception of my warm-and-cuddly brother, all my impressions of the trip are positive. I wonder if my parents have different recollections of that trip. I wonder if they ever worried that we would have negative memories of our first family vacation.
Dan and I have taken our kids on 3 major family trips. Each time, about halfway through the trip, we look at each other in despair and say, “This was a mistake.” The weather is too warm or too cold, there aren’t enough shopping opportunities, our flights are delayed or missed, “you plan activities that you like!” and so on. Abject failures, every time. However, I’m noticing that we are now a few years out from our trip to the East Coast, and the kids speak of it with nostalgia and good humor. Perhaps these experiences simply need to go through the rock-tumbler that is time, to rid the memories of rough edges and let the beauty shine through.
I don’t think any of us will get over missing that flight, though.
Thanks for reading.
Love, Susie
