Campfire, hiking, joy,
Raindrops, teardrops, deep lament,
Mom's thoughts dance back home.
OK, I'm sorry but I can't quite fit it into 17 syllables.
It was a disaster. The worst vacation ever. (I'm limiting that to our family's experience, because as I recall there was a Brady Bunch vacation once which could have given ours a close running.) But as for my own personal experience as a husband and father, I have never failed more miserably in leading my family on a trip which was intended to bring joy and relaxation.
By the time we went to bed the first night, Anda wasn't speaking to me. I don't think it was so much anger as it was just a dumbfounded shock that I had actually followed through with my foolhardy plans to take on this endeavor. It felt like midnight when we rolled into bed, though I think it was still before 10 pm. The next morning when I woke up for what felt like the 20th time at 7 something am, I realized that camping was not going to be relaxing for either of us, and trying to make it fun was a lot like selling tickets to a root canal.
The morning went fairly well. Anda got a shower. We made breakfast and I cleaned up breakfast.
Malachi had already fallen and busted his nose open the day before while we were setting up our tents. He fell again during breakfast, but didn't bleed as much this time. We decided we should take a hike. It was a really good hour.
We "rested" a bit after lunch. Isaac was on his second or 3rd pair of pants for the day. Somehow, despite his reassurances that he wasn't getting in the water, his shoes and pants got wet up to his knees every time he got close to the water.
It wasn't cold, but it certainly wasn't warm.
Then the rain came. Our family of 8 sat in a tent for about 45 minutes. I tried reading a book to everyone while the younger 3 apparently were auditioning for the olympic gymnastics team. Anda must have had some strings sewed to the corners of her mouth that were being pulled by some unseen force, causing her lips to become a thin straight line for the entirety of our time in the tent.
Now, I ask you, dear reader, what would you have done? There was a chance the rain could move on, and we could have 2 more days of clear weather. We could have stayed to enjoy 2 more days of camping, and my marriage fiasco recovery time would have been lengthened by at least 3-4 days. Or there was a possibility of the rain continuing for the entire length of the trip, in which case that recovery time would have stretched to 3-4 months or even years. I saw a chance of escape, and perhaps chickenheartedly, I took it. So after about 3 hours of packing, with at least half of that time trying to secure a tarp to a trailer to avoid getting all our camping gear wet, we departed from our adventure. I suspect our next camping trip is many, many years away. With much regret, I acknowledge that a stronger man would have stuck it out, and perhaps might have found that his family had grown closer together and his wife had developed a love for camping. I however, was not that man.
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6 comments:
Oh. my.
This would be a great short story.
Like all tragedies, its full meaning won't be apparent for years to come. When you actually get to the point of full blown belly laughter (again, not for years), this will be the stuff of family legend.
Family legends are wonderful.
By the way, on our Spring Break, we only had strep, one gouged eye, and last night, a sharp handlebar on the bike ramming into the inside of Luke's mouth--a lot of blood, a loose flap of cheek skin, and a (hopefull non-permanent) skid mark across his face.
In light of your story, I'll just consider us fortunate.
Love you guys.
Randy, you're the best.
So I guess we'll just put our thoughts of buying a camper together on hold for now. Inspired by your bravery, on Monday night (as we stood in the well-stocked kitchen of our lakehouse) your siblings had a very idealistic imagining of going together to purchase a trailer so we could each venture out with our own families to "make memories." The good news is that the lakehouse is waiting for you, almost complete with a fabulous cabana where the bold and brave can "camp out" on hammocks under the stars any time. And their mama can sleep in Room 6.
You win a prize for your noble effort, brother! You succeeded in making memories, which is what matters.
Randy and Anda, I am so sorry that the trip did not go well. I wish it would have been better, but I want to tell you some of my favorite moments with the Brown Clan is sitting around and listening to the stories that the brothers tell about growing up. To hear Tod tell the stories is just a time of pure laughter. I remember the story of him setting the bathroom on fire and of the stuffed bell peppers that he was made to eat as a teenager. One of my favorite times though was of the newspaper delivery job. To hear Tod tell the story of how Dale flew over the handlebars was just too much funny. One day, your family of 40 or 50 is going to be setting around the table and Josiah is going to tell the story of the worst camping trip ever. And everyone is going to laugh so hard that you can't take the pain of laughing anymore. And Randy is going to sit there with a smile on his face as Dale sits and listens to his kids tell the stories of growing up. Of being tied together in a pasture to pick weeds when they couldn't get along. That time may seem far away but it isn't. Like Jana said, family legends are wonderful. Love you guys. Oh, by the way, I am so ready for you all to come back for a visit.
it will be a much better story years from now, then if everything had gone perfectly. right? ;) you were brave to try :)
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