Month: October 2020

Family Road Trips

Jeanna GLeave a comment

Thanks to my friend’s family plan, I’ve been enjoying a lot of Spotify’s playlists lately. The Classic Road Trip Songs playlist is a great one, and it got me thinking about road trips I’ve taken. My daughter and I have been on countless road trips together, many to the beach, but few to the same place twice. Growing up in a house with seven people did not make packing up and taking off easy to do. Nevertheless, we did manage to pile into the Suburban and get out of dodge once in awhile.

The earliest family road trip that I can remember was to Prince Edward Island, a province of Canada. It is an 11-hour drive from our hometown. My brother had been at band camp in Maine, so we picked him up and continued on to PEI. I was only 5 years old, so my memories are faint. I do remember that it was absolutely beautiful there. I remember steep red cliffs and splashing about in shallow tide pools. I watched my brother pull a large crab out of the water with his bare hands. He also sat on my teddy bear’s head causing her eye to pop off. That led to the first of several eye surgeries for her. He’s also the one who won her for me at a carnival when I was two, so I can’t be too upset with him. One night the wind blew my bedroom window open, knocking over a bedside lamp. It scared the bejeezus out of me, but my sister rushed in and put everything back in place, including my nerves. One of the days I was outside playing with a dog. I have no idea who it belonged to, but I was chasing it around and playing with it. Then it took a break and lied down, but I wanted to keep playing, so I kicked it in the ribs thinking that would get it back up again (little kids aren’t the smartest). The next thing I saw was its uvula as it latched onto my face. I was relayed from one brother to the other, and was held over the kitchen sink while I rinsed the blood from my face and mouth. Funny are the things that stand out.

Her eyes were orange, originally.

In April of 1987 we took another vacation, but this one did not include my brothers, and instead of hitting the road, we hit the rails. For spring break my parents gifted us with a trip to Disney World. We rode the Amtrak from Connecticut to Florida. We cracked Easter eggs on our foreheads and ate Kentucky Fried Chicken from a bucket. How did we have those on the train? It’s a mystery. Yes, my memories are faint, but I remember Chip and Dale joining us at breakfast and seeing Tinker Bell fly down from the castle tower during the evening fireworks. I remember some of the attractions: Mad Tea Party, Cinderella’s Golden Carrousel, Dumbo the Flying Elephant, It’s a Small World, and the Country Bear Jamboree. Everything was fun and magical, but I was sad we left without taking Peter Pan’s Flight and meeting Mickey Mouse. Fast-forward about 30 years to when I took my daughter to the Magic Kingdom and guess who was more excited about checking both of those things off the list?!

What tickets looked like before the digital days.

Another road trip we took was up to Wells, Maine in the summer. We went a couple of times and stayed in the New Harbor View Cottages off Route 1, conveniently located across from Congdon’s Donuts. Maine is such a beautiful place, but the water is freezing! It didn’t phase me as a child, but my body felt otherwise when I moved there in my 20s. But really, the lobster, the scenery, the quaint little shops… If the winters didn’t last as long as they did, I’d have stayed living there much longer.

Michigan was a destination for a couple of other trips we took. My dad grew up in Allegan, so we traveled to visit with his parents there. I remember going to Lake Michigan and thinking we were at the ocean. On one of those trips we drove to Niagara Falls on the way. Majestic!

Lake Michigan

Road trips are a great way to be with family away from the daily grind. No chores and no to-dos, other than sightseeing and memory making. Families need a break to reconnect. I’m grateful that my parents took us on road trips. They helped to pave the way for me and my daughter to reconnect when adventure calls.

What are some of your memorable road trips?

The Seventh of Firsts – The First Time I Left the Country Alone

Jeanna GLeave a comment

As noted in a previous post, I left the country for the first time when I was 5 on a road trip to Canada. I traveled to Canada a few other times for soccer tournaments in Montreal. But the first time I left the country on my own was in 1998 when I flew to the Dominican Republic to visit my sister. She was teaching in an English-speaking school in Santo Domingo. I traveled with two friends in the front of a Penske truck from Pennsylvania to Miami, where I left them and caught a flight to the DR by way of Puerto Rico.

Once there, everyone wanted to be my taxi driver! Luckily, my sister arrived quickly and we headed back to the home she was living in with a host family. Maria Louisa and her two boys were wonderful hosts, and it was very sweet to welcome me into their home so that I could visit with my sister and explore their country. I’m also very grateful to Maria Louisa for killing the giant (I swear it was several inches long) cockroach that flew in through the window one evening. My sister and I were screaming and jumping on our beds while she battled the bug with a shoe. That was my first cockroach encounter, and it gave me quite a jolt! The rest of my experiences were much calmer and more beautiful.

My sister was the perfect tour guide. She led me to Las Terrenas on the Samana peninsula. The ride was a little hairy as we rode in the bed of an old pickup truck along narrow, mountainside dirt roads. We hiked into the rainforest while we were there. There were spectacular panoramic views of the Caribbean from the top. While on that hike we came across a double waterfall, the Salto El Limon. A hidden gem!

Above, top right, is the beach we enjoyed by our hotel. The hotel had beautiful views from the open windows. Mosquito nets hung over the beds. Uniformed men guarded the front gates with machine guns. They were especially useful when saying goodbye to the two men who we’d met on the beach earlier in the day, ran into again at the market, and then enjoyed dancing merengue with at a local discotheque that evening. The waters were warm, gentle, and crystal clear. My sister floated along singing Irving Berlin’s Cheek to Cheek. At the market I found a beautiful painting by a Haitian artist that still hangs in my home.

When we returned to the capital, my sister took me to the Colonial Zone (Ciudad Colonial) to sightsee. We did some bargaining at the marketplace and I left with some lovely pieces of amber and larimar.

Our second beach getaway was to Juan Dolio. We stayed at an all-inclusive resort (my first and only). It was what one would hope for: endless tropical fruits and cocktails, pristine beaches, peaceful atmosphere. I got my hair braided (remember to bring cash for that!). My sister also took me to a place that offered horseback rides along the beach. That is definitely one of my happiest memories. The horse could have done that walk with his eyes closed. It was so relaxing and exciting all at once.

I’d love to go back, but I’m sure it just wouldn’t be the same. I find there’s a nuance when traveling to meet someone. They know the hidden gems, the ins and outs, the language, the must-dos. And they know better than a guidebook, because they also know you. I’m grateful for the experience, and especially one provided by and shared with my sister.

When did you first leave your home country, and to where did you travel?

Homage to My Dad

Jeanna GLeave a comment

I knew it would be a good day when, early on a Saturday morning, my dad would wake me up by singing, “Good morning! Good morning! How are you today? Good morning! Good morning! It’s time to get up and play!” Then he would whisk me off to a secret father-daughter breakfast at the Dandy Lion diner. Some of my fondest memories are of time spent playing with and learning from, or just being with my dad.

Any time I have a question, he has an answer. He isn’t showing off, or making up answers to move me along, he’s just really stinkin’ smart! My education would have been a lot more difficult, and much less successful, if my dad hadn’t taken the time to help me.

Aside from helping me with schoolwork, he taught, and continues to teach, me many practical skills. He isn’t “MacGyver,” but he can fix just about anything. Just watching him work encourages me to be resourceful and thorough. First, I study what needs to be fixed, and then it seems as though a conveyor belt of potential, readily available tools runs through my mind until I settle on the perfect ones. Then, voila! Problem solved. Dad would take me along to the lumberyard and hardware store, and he’d let me sit at his workbench out in the garage. I see him break things, and instead of showing anger or embarrassment, he jokes, “One step forward, two steps back!” I laugh with him, but each time is truly a lesson in persistence and the importance of trial and error. At 81, his workbench is still in the garage, but now it’s known as “Papa’s Fix-It Shop.”

We built a dollhouse together.  First he taught me how to draw pictures using perspective, enabling me to create on paper the image of the house that I had in my mind.  Next we bought the supplies and built my dream house.  I didn’t even use it all that much.  It was the shared process that I enjoyed the most.

Dad taught me how to fish.  We would go out to Christensen’s pond, bait our own hooks, cast our lines, and sit and wait. We even tried ice fishing there! We didn’t last long, even with bottom heaters, but that’s an experience I won’t forget.

Dad isn’t a jock like some other fathers, but he encouraged physical activity. He would go to the gym to swim and workout. He took me to the biggest hill to go sledding, and he taught me how to successfully swing a golf club. He would cheer me on from the sidelines of the soccer field and applaud my dance recitals. Dad also signed up to coach my town basketball team when I was in elementary school.  I don’t remember ever actually handling the ball during those games; I just ran up and down the court.  He didn’t give me a hard time about ‘getting in the game.’  He saw that I was having fun, and knew that was enough.  From there, my love for the fun of the game grew.  I became more and more involved in sports as the years passed, ultimately leading to a career in teaching others how to live a healthy life through physical activity. And, having both graduated from Big 10 schools, we always have something sports-related to talk about and root for.

Dad also took me to the Gun Club to teach me how to shoot. We’d practice with his revolver at the range. I learned a lot about safety, control, and patience from those outings.  

Dad taught me how to create art using sunlight and a magnifying glass.  I learned about poetry, and gained an appreciation for jazz.  I was able to internalize the values of listening without interrupting, living one day at a time, and ‘letting go.’  One day he would teach me how to draw a body in proportion, and the next would be a lesson in operating a manual transmission.  A regular lesson is, “Say your prayers and take your C’s!”  He is a modern day Renaissance man, and I am forever grateful for the knowledge he is so willing to share and instill.

When mom worked nights, dad and I would cook together.  During my vegetarian phase, he used the opportunity to introduce me to okra, eggplant, and falafel.  Peanut butter and pickles is an unforgettable combination, as are the sundaes he could always conjure up for TV time.

I knew it would be a peaceful night’s rest when dad would tuck me in and, instead of reading me a storybook, he would create a tale on the spot.  Mama Bear, Papa Bear, and Baby Bear would always have a new, exciting adventure, in which Baby Bear would prove to be heroic and successful.  She would swim to the rescue of a distressed swimmer, or score the game-winning goal.  The sky was the limit for “Baby Bear,” and he never leads me to believe otherwise. Now my daughter tells me of his nighttime stories in which she is the heroine, and they seem to have the same enchanting effect.

Oftentimes, it seems as though fathers get nervous about how to relate to their daughters, asking, “What do I say to her?, What would we do together?, or How will we connect?” If my father ever lacked confidence in how to address these quandaries, I could never tell. The adventures and lessons didn’t happen everyday, but they were regular, and they still exist.  The fact that he came home from work every evening and asked me about my day could have been enough.  But he took the time to share his self with me, and that is how I know he loves me.  It’s as easy as that.

I am filled with awe as he, now as Papa, continues to share his time and talents by creating meaningful, invaluable experiences with my daughter.

What do you miss doing with your dad? What did you learn from him? What do you wish you had been able to do with your dad? What would you change and what would you keep the same? How will those experiences affect how you parent?