I've always been prone to motion sickness...don't know why exactly, but every time my family traveled I spent the majority of the trip lying down in the back seat. That big ol' back seat and I were pretty good friends because we traveled a lot. We moved across country at least 5 times before my twelfth birthday and that's one heckova road trip. No, we weren't Gypsies...my Dad always seemed to get job offers that weren't in the same city, let alone the same state. While I was always up for the adventure of moving to a new place, it was also lonely to have to start over with new friends and a new school. And, as we all know, children can be cruel to new kids, especially ones with curly hair and a gap between their front teeth. In any case, I got to see quite a bit of America during these cross-country jaunts and there was always much marvel and excitement at my travels by the kids in the new school. However, the new-ness and excitement of all of that often faded fast and I just became the "weird girl".
As I said, the moving part was exciting, at least to my Mother, because she took such delight in making us clean out all our stuff and throw out all the "junk" in our closets, drawers, from under our beds, etc. Since my Dad liked moving up in the business world, we moved almost every year and my Mother attacked the cleaning and the packing with a fervor. I guess the whole process was sort of her version of Spring cleaning. Despite my yearly protests, I learned to rid myself of unwanted or un-needed things...a trait I've carried into my adult life...and to do this as quickly as possible. It was clear that we needed to travel light and because we lived like such Nomads, I never did get much of a chance to collect a bunch of useless stuff. I learned not to want too much, need something too badly, or to place much importance on material items. Typically, when we moved, things were lost or broken and it really didn't matter because there was always something else to be found or forgotten just around the bend.
After all of our belongings were neatly stacked in a large moving van and we had said our tearful goodbyes to our "best friends" from that location, Mom and Dad piled us in the car and off we'd go. For several of our trips, I remember we had a green, two-toned Chevy Bel-Air...a huge monster...with huge monster seats...a huge front end, and a huge monster steering wheel. My Dad loved that shiny green dragon, who swallowed us up and flew us safely to that "new" place for our new life. At least that was always my hope...that perhaps this next place we could stay for awhile and I could have things...and more permanent friends...and maybe even a room of my own.
Well, on one of these trips across country, I was eight my sister was six or so, and my baby brother was two. Mom and Dad decided that we would go through Yosemite and take in all the glory and splendor of nature...in the summertime. Indeed it WAS beautiful...from what little I could see lying prone in the backseat. Yes indeed...my predilection towards motion sickness often made me miss the beauty and the splendor of whatever was on the side of the road. Looking back, it was probably best.
As you may remember, back in the 1960s, there weren't any super highways so there were a lot of small roads...small bumpy roads...with switchbacks and the tendency to go up and down a lot. All of us were very young, and fairly small so we couldn't see our surroundings very well from that big back seat. Forced to look at the inside of the car or the tops of the trees, our inner ear played tricks on us...making it seem as if the inside of the car was spinning...and making us, mostly me, very ill. And, heaven forbid if the windows were open...because we MIGHT fall out or be stolen by aliens. Never mind that we were so little, we had to stand on the seat to even see out the window, and Lord knows THAT wasn't allowed. Oh hell no. So, it was best that we sat in the hot, airless back seat while the trees tops whizzed by and we enjoyed the random feeling of going up, down, and around. My brother was lucky, he got to be in the shady front seat with my parents.
After a while, when I couldn't stand it any longer, I had to lay down. My sister would complain that I was hogging the seat, but I was desperate. I needed to lay down or else I would throw up. Sometimes if I complained enough, my Dad took mercy on me and stopped the car so I could get some air and maybe quell the sea-sick feeling...and sometimes it was just too late. I tried really hard not to toss my cookies because throwing up is about the worst thing ever and it was, after all, his car. Did I mention it was summertime...and the back-seat windows weren't open? Yes, it was best for all concerned that I kept my lunch firmly inside of me.
However, on this trip through Yosemite, on that particular sweltering day, that hope was NOT to be fulfilled...and we were stuck on this two-lane road going up the mountain, going back and forth, and it was so hot and...close. I tried to close my eyes and sleep. But, my sister was singing tunelessly, my brother was crying, and I just couldn't breathe. When I felt the bile start to rise and my mouth going dry, I tried swallowing repeatedly in an effort to stop the inevitable. I started to panic so I grabbed the closest thing to me, trying to keep Dad's car clean. Unfortunately, it was my sister's Cap'n Crunch cereal box. Now, I don't know about you, but once I HEAR someone throw up, I can't help but throw up, too. So I understood completely when my sister grabbed the box back and promptly threw up in it herself.
Now, this got my parent's attention pretty fast and thank God a rest stop magically appeared. My Dad raced into the dirt area, screeched to a halt under the shade of a big oak tree, jumped out, and then threw up his lunch a few feet from the car. I guess that's where I get it from. My Mom, launched herself from the car, swung around and opened the back seat door, and without batting an eye, she pulled us out, tossed the cereal box over her shoulder, and somehow managed to find a washcloth to wipe our faces. True to fashion, she was also scolding us and muttering to herself about how much fun it is to travel with kids. My brother, who wanted in on the action too, was crying even harder than before because my Dad had unknowingly pulled into a rest stop that was swarming with yellow jackets, who were very interested in his bottle as well as the box of Cap'n Crunch next to the car.
During all of this, my sister and I were dancing around trying to get loose from my Mother's titan grip and far away from the curious yellow jackets. I'm also not done retching and neither is my sister. So, we'd turn one way and barf and turn the other to dodge the kamikaze bugs. My Mom was alternately swearing randomly, grabbing at my brother's bottle inside the car, swatting at the yellow jackets flying around us, wiping our faces, yelling at my Dad to come help her, and hopping around as well. It seems at one point, a yellow jacket had flown into her shirt and stung her in the armpit. She yelped and let us go, and we took off so we could vomit in peace.
Glancing over my shoulder, I saw that Mom had somehow gotten the yellow jackets out of the car and away from my brother because she slammed the door and was going at the yellow jackets with a vengeance. She was swatting the air with the washcloth and her purse and cursing up a storm. Giving up, she bolted away from the car, hoping that they would follow her, get interested in something else, and disperse. Luckily, yellow jackets have a form of bug ADD and happily swarmed away to another unwitting traveler while my mother ran to the bathroom, probably to nurse her sting. My brother had somehow found his bottle and was quiet in the car. My sister and I had hidden behind some large boulders and we leaned against the warm rock. Exhausted after being sick, I kept my head down and eyes closed. All I could hear was the sound of cars on the road, a flushing toilet, and the buzzing getting further away.
Now, all of this happened in the span of 5 or 10 minutes and it occurred to me that my Dad was noticeably absent during all the excitement. Well, he didn't get far. Like me, when he gets sick, he gets extremely tired and, coupled with the heat, pretty darn sleepy. When I looked up from my bent-over position, I could see him lying across the shady hood of the car. I forced myself up and towards the car and noticed that with his eyes closed and his cheek pressed against the hood of the green dragon, he was quietly snoring. I don't know how he slept through all of that, but he did.
Maybe having kids does that to you. I mean, you find your serenity where you can. Nevertheless, under the shade of that tree, with the summer breeze gently lifting his hair from his forehead, I could see his calm, peaceful expression. I hardly ever got to see THAT face. Funny, in that moment, I also noticed that his face was the same color as his beloved car and it made me smile.
I guess this is what people refer to as quality time with your family.
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