The Wayback Machine
I've exhausted my writing time tonight fiddling with the settings for
this new blog. Still, I want to post something, so in honor of the
IndieWeb, I dipped into my personal archives and pulled out something I
wrote for my Geocities page in the 90's. It's about my kids, all of whom
are now parents themselves and in their late 30s and early 40s.
The Road Trip
Early Saturday morning, not as early as I have planned, but still
plenty early for me, I'll load up the station wagon with the three kids,
point it East and head to Morehead City to see Mother. The kids will be
grouchy about my choice of departure times. They will have the
inevitable argument about who gets the front seat first. Anna will win.
Friday night I'll have to tell each child at least three times to pack a bag for the trip. Anna will finally pack two suitcases and request permission to load the footlocker holding all of her doll stuff (thanks Mom). Drew will come out with two bags also. One will be a sandwich baggy with his toothbrush (which will certainly be left in Morehead City to be added to Mom's collection). His second bag will contain 14 books. Drew will try and convince me to let him wear the same jeans, underwear, and tee shirt the entire weekend. Amber will bring out one bag containing three socks, none of them matching; two nightgowns for this one-night trip; half of a Monopoly game, a pair of shorts and her bathing suit (after all we are going to the beach, never mind that it's February)
Somewhere between the end of my driveway and the city limits one or more of the children will ask where we are going to stop and eat. Never mind that the Burger King in Clinton has been our stop of choice since the Reagan administration. The kids want to know if there is some new all you can eat buffet of breakfast delights, I've discovered while surfing the internet. I will be armed with the information that it might be a good idea for me to stop at a convenience store to buy drinks in case someone has a near death experience from thirst on this three-hour drive. No one will have any money, only an expectant nature.
Drew will pull out a book as soon as there is light to see. Amber will fall asleep and have to be awoken for the big Burger King stop. Anna will sit beside me. She will beg me not to listen to NPR, opting instead for Foxy 99. Every other sentence for 156 miles will begin with the words, "Can we," or "Can I."
We will arrive at Mom's around 9 am. I will immediately make my way to the bedroom, locking the door behind me, emerging after church Sunday for the trip home. Tina, Tina has it made. She has to work Saturday and will miss the entire experience.
--
Lou Plummer
"Inform all of the troops that communications have totally broken down"