Vacations, Family and Otherwise

Melanie and I have been thinking about what to do to survive the summer in the desert since we won't have the money to do lots of travelling. Over Christmas break we drove all over the country visiting family to save money, and, even though it was a little taxing on the butt, I enjoyed the road trips. The last trip like that I remember was several years ago when my family drove to the east coast.

My dad's navy buddies were having a get together in Virginia, and he wanted all of us to come so we could meet their families. They had done the same thing a few years before in Kansas, but he went on a solo motorcycle ride because we all had conflicting schedules—or at least an aversion to Kansas. This time, though, six of us packed up two cars and headed east.

There wasn't anything spectacular about this trip, but I will probably always remember how we managed to pack so much distance and experience into so few days. We had sketchy seafood from a buffet in Louisiana. We drove through the French quarter briefly before deciding the narrow streets did not provide a quick getaway from the seediness we knew was ahead. We visited family in South Carolina where we marveled at their beautifully secluded house overlooking a pond and experienced the vibrant atmosphere of a minor league baseball game. I still wear my Capitol City Bombers cap because I enjoy answering questions about the interesting team logo. We visited the D-Day Memorial in Virginia and nearly all the important tourist attractions in Washington D.C. as well as checking out Monticello and seeing Jefferson's awesome clock and reading desk. And we drove a lot. And we walked a lot.

All the sites were great, but what sticks out the most was how much an experience like that bonds a group together. Granted, we were sick of each other well before the trip was over, and we all had plenty to complain about, but that's not usually what my mind turns to. Instead, I think about answering trivia questions on U.S. presidents or the hundreds of pictures we took of the Washington Monument. Paddling around the pond in a small row boat or trying to hit golf balls over it. How comfortable sleeping on the floor felt after walking what felt like fifty miles around the capitol.

To be honest, I was probably against the idea of the trip in the first place. I usually am. It's not that I don't enjoy spending time with my family, it's more that I resist change. I tend to obey Newton's law of motion about an object at rest staying at rest unless some external force is applied to it. I hope that I will grow out of that at some point. I hope I'll be the dad waking the family up early so they can see the sunrise over the Atlantic, the one who stops to read all the plaques at the museum because someone made the effort to gather all that information, the one who is willing to drive all day when everyone else is sleeping and doesn't even mind because his eyes appreciate the newness in something as simple as another state border. I'm excited about family vacations where I can force my loved ones to experience life against their will, hoping I can convey to them what I think my parents were always trying to show us: happiness comes from the people around you, not the things.

In short, I look forward to passing down all the good I gained from my family on those long, sometimes hot, sometimes boring, trips that just wouldn't have been the same if we had the money to fly. And ignoring the mumbling from the back seat.