My mother took her family on the road for fun. We lived in Chicago, but we went to St. Louis, to Springfield, to Milwaukee, to Galena, to Detroit, to Benton Harbor, to Boston, to Biloxi, to Savannah and so on, endlessly. What you may notice about this partial list is that none of these locations is particularly close to Chicago, which means that getting there involved eternally long periods of time in our little orange Volkswagen Beetle with nothing to do but stare out the window. Reading in the car made me carsick and my mother, who had only learned to drive when I was 6 years old, felt that any kind of noise in the car – such as the radio – was dangerous for her driving. You can only play the alphabet game or 20 questions so many times in a 24 hour period.
Of course, there was always fighting with my brother as an entertainment possibility. On one trip my father decreed that the winner of a fight was the one who stopped fighting first. This led to the paradox of having to start a fight in order to stop first and win. Needless to say, there ensued heated arguments about which one of us had actually stopped first.
We went to Mississippi by way of New Orleans in the middle of March one year. Gillie came with us on that trip. Late one night, she (at the ripe age of 12) and James (at the ripe age of 14) headed off to check out the night life on Bourbon Street. I (at the extremely ripe age of 15) thought it more sophisticated to stay in the hotel room and read Hemmingway. They got separated. Gillie got harassed by drunks and was apparently utterly relieved when my parents found her in a bar. They were a bit miffed at me for letting “the children” go off on this adventure and I was a bit miffed at missing the sight of my respectable teetotaler parents strolling through the drunken crowds and going into bars.
The next day we went to Biloxi where we stayed in a motel across the street from the beach. This was pre- Hurricane Katrina. Us children (you can go both ways at that age) got up extremely early and rushed across the road to swim in the Gulf, which was warm, shallow and inhabited by schools of flying fish. By 9 AM we were completely sunburnt, having just emerged from winter in Chicago.
Another time we drove across Georgia on an interstate so new it had no motels for our sleeping. In Savannah, we washed clothes in a laundromat followed by a pretty big crowd of very small children entranced by the exotic white people invading their neighborhood. On that particular trip we spent a day at the beach on Chincoteague Island, our first visit to a place that deserves its own story.
Today is my mother’s birthday. She would have been 91, which sounds like such a big number that I guess she’s been gone for a while. It’s been eight years, but missing her seems to get sharper, not duller as time passes. I still hear her voice in my head just as clearly as ever, especially when her words pop right out of my own mouth. I think she would be pleased that I remember these trips so well. I don’t think she would have cared that I found the drives long and tedious, as she was big on her children fending for themselves.
[photo definitely from inside of our VW bug, probably me driving though, definitely taken with the instamatic camera with the film that remained undeveloped for months and months...]
I can so sympathize with the car-sick syndrome. Although we didn't drive as far as you and we had a station wagon instead of a van, it was almost routine for my father to pull over after about 45 minutes in the car so that I could get out and throw up on the side of the road. I always felt miserable. Even in to college I would have to sit in the front seat if I went anywhere with friends. Thankfully it doesn't happen that often anymore- because I'm the one who drives now. But I was like your mom. I didn't get my license until I was 24!
i love this story. My car trips were every summer in a station wagon with no air conditioning either from Wyoming to Pennsylvania or from Wyomjng to Orange, CA
I was smiling and laughing at some of the similarities of my own life in another hemisphere. I'm glad you mentioned that you traveled long distances - my geography knowledge of US only stretches to most states, and some big cities :(
Cool picture, wonderful story and happy birthday to your mom, bless her non-driving heart :-). Your story reminded me of a time when I was a child. I am the youngest of three, sister oldest by 5 years, then my brother, 3 years older than me. Those two fought constantly, and one day my dad made them go at it in the living room and said, who ever cries first is the loser and he doesn't want to hear any more. The winner, the one who makes the other cry first, gets a trip to the DQ for a treat. Shortly thereafter, by brother pushed my sisters head into the running box fan on the floor, causing her hair to catch in the blades and tangle quickly, naturally causing her to cry. My brother enjoyed his DQ with a big smile. Today, my dad would have likely been arrested for the stunt, but it lives as a memory causing little harm, to me.
It sounds like a life of experiences. We never traveled much during the early years, in fact it wasn't until I wasn't until I was in my 20's that I first traveled outside of Pa, my home state
oh, travelling with mommy. i have a story about that. your story made me laugh about the little girl and the boy going to bars. and teetotaler was a word i spelled right in grade school in a spelling contest! yay for teetotalers! great story, francoise. i enjoyed it!
September 22nd, 2014
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