Until Next Time

Our last day at the beach is always filled with too much work. The rental must be vacuumed, the dishes washed, the trash emptied, and horror of horrors, the refrigerators cleaned. Try as we might to make food supplies diminish as departure time approaches, we always seem to end up with ice-chests full of half-eaten leftovers, overripe fruit, and soggy cheese.

How is it that our vehicles are all packed to the gills for a one-week vacation?  I mean, people used to be lucky if they owned two sets of clothes.  Paul and I have three suitcases between us, two storage boxes filled with games and other things we “might wish we had along,” various totes with beach towels, suntan lotions, pool toys, and of course, all the electronic equipment one has to have to survive these days.  I determined when slamming down the rear hatch while trying to keep things from falling out, that NEXT TIME I really MUST do better at this packing thing, as in not preparing for the apocalypse.

We had barely made it out of the driveway when I noticed the rear door indicator light was on."Stop!” I say to Paul and he dutifully pulls to the side of the road.  I go to the back and warily open the door, catching things as they propel outward.

“The ice-chest is covering one of the latches!” I yell toward the driver’s seat.

“What?” I hear a muffled voice coming from Paul's direction.  “I can’t hear a thing you’re saying.”

It’s not like we’re driving a fifty foot bus or anything.  It’s just that we have everything packed in so tightly the sound can’t even break through.  Paul comes around the rear as I am ripping things out and readjusting, hoping the occupants of the houses lining the street do not take this moment to look out their windows.

After yanking, rearranging, re-stuffing and re-closing the door, we were on our way again, the annoying door light off.

We had made it out the door by 8:00 AM, only thirty minutes later than Paul’s departure goal.  I’m not sure why there must be a goal for everything, even leaving our vacation house, but Paul is nothing if not goal-oriented.  And competitive.  We must beat the crowds exiting the Outer Banks lest we become ensnared in a traffic jam.  Because then the arrival time goal at our next destination would be in jeopardy. 

Everyone else in our group had already left, some during the wee hours, some just a few minutes ahead of us.  Several of us have those nifty stalker apps on our phones so we can keep track of travel progress.  Kinda fun and kinda creepy all at the same time.

Looking back over the week I will have to say it was definitely memorable.  Some good, some not so good.  But all-in-all, a successful vacation; happiness is not the absence of complications but the attitudes of those involved. Refusing to let screaming toddlers, poopy diapers, squabbling ten-year-olds, and irritable adults dissipate our joy is a choice.

At the end of the day, those same children are the ones who make everything worthwhile when they wrap their small, sticky arms around your neck and tell you they love you.  Seeing their eyes light up when they see the ocean for the first time makes all the sand in their bathing suits not such a big deal.  Hearing them giggle when they are playing together makes up for the times when they are all fighting over the same toy. And tucking them in at night leaves everyone more appreciative of the peace and quiet than they could ever be if it were that way all the time.  We all agreed, though, that skipping a year or two might be a good idea.  Give the little savages some time to become civilized. Or at least learn to sleep all night.

We head back to my niece’s house for the night, this time with both ten-year-old in tow.  Along with a rack of ribs from Goombay’s for Glenn and some chocolate for Sheri.  My brother John, his wife Ruby (Sheri's parents) will be there for supper as will another niece, Gail.  As I've mentioned before, I have relatives tucked in every place worth visiting and one of the best things about our beach vacation is ending it with family along the way. Seeing Glenn attack those ribs will hold a vicarious enjoyment right up there with taking The Littles to the beach and the generous bag of special home-made beef jerky he usually sends home with us would be worth an extra hundred miles on the road any day.

The Dunes

The Sand Dunes in Kitty Hawk are well worth the time and effort.  Every trip to these parts we spend one evening climbing to the top of the gigantic sand hills.  In 1900 Orville and Wilbur Wright used the dunes in their flight experiments.  The picked this area because of the near-constant breezes and soft sand landings.  The Wright Brothers Memorial nearby is also a worthwhile destination.  Paul took our two ten-year-old granddaughters there one morning and they gave it rave reviews.  

The dunes are a favorite spot for hang-gliders now, swooping down and back up again on the wind currents that rush through the valleys stretching between the tall plateaus. 

Climbing to the tallest point we can see the narrow strip of land that makes up the outer banks, bordered by water on both sides, the Atlantic to the east and the sound to the west. Rows of beach houses, weather beaten and holding vigil along the sea, are visible from our perch high atop the surrounding towns.  I can’t understand why the sand doesn’t simply blow out to sea.  What keeps it moored to this spot, a shifting landscape that has changed every year for hundreds of years?

After the sun sets we hike back down, stopping for frozen custard at our favorite ice-cream hangout en route back to the house.  Black raspberry and key lime cheesecake were the flavors of the day, both of them lip-smacking good. 

Our time here is moving along too fast. But I must stop and remember what happened fourteen years ago.  We were on another vacation in the northernmost part of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.  Fishing from a pontoon on a remote lake, we did not learn about the Trade Center falling until we were off the lake and back into our house.  We watched TV in horror, along with the rest of the country, as the collapse was shone again and again.  It was one of those moments when everyone can remember exactly where they were when it happened. And it is our duty to never forget.

Hogfest

Someone commented on my Facebook page, under pictures of our beach vacation, that she would like to be with us because we always have so much fun. We do have fun. But I'll be the first to admit that Facebook only shows the edited version of life.  It doesn't show the meltdowns, the mess, the not-so-admirable qualities all families have. Unless, of course, you're a person who likes to air drama on social media.

What makes our family different than some is not that we lack drama; it's the value we place on the relationships within our messed up family unit.  There may be yelling, disagreements, annoyances, irritations, and general mayhem, but at the end of the day, and the vacation, we're still family and we're not going to let anyone out of that familial contract easily.  Sorry people.  You're stuck with me and I'm stuck with you.

So if you still want to join us after that perfection disclaimer, feel free.  In fact, our group includes several people to whom we are not related except by a history of true friendship.  These ties are sometimes stronger than blood; there's no sense of genetic obligation.  Instead, there is the knowledge that someone's got your back through thick and thin, by choice.

This is day four of our week at the OBX.  Everyone is getting crispy. Some of us are red-skinned and some of us are hot-tempered.  It's time for some comfort food.  It's time for our traditional Hogfest Night.

Hogfest started years ago during our stay at the beach one fourth of July week.  Our rental house was fronting the beach road, the Atlantic mere steps across the highway. A smaller side road ran along the empty lot that skirted the house to the left and it became the source of great entertainment for us.

Filled with sparse weeds, the sandy soil looked more stable than it was. Parking spaces were quickly used up at the beach access across the road and car after car attempted to park in the empty lot.  The fun happened when they tried to pull out. Invariably they sank deeply into the sand and then the rocking back and forth, digging with sand shovels, and swearing at the futility of such endeavors, commenced.  Watching the vain attempts of hapless tourists trying to extricate their buried cars was an unending source of amusement for us, perched on our third floor balcony.  Yes, I know.  We should have empathized more but after the fifteenth car, hilarity took over.

Because it was a holiday, people descended en mass to see the fireworks on the beach across from our house.  Rather than fight the long lines at area restaurants and reluctant to miss all the fun happening at our feet, we decided to send forth several of our party to hunt, gather and bring back sustenance for our evening meal.  One went to Sooey's for big racks of ribs.  One went to KFC for buckets of Original Recipe with all the trimmings.  Another tracked down fresh seafood: shrimp, fish, scallops and crab. When the hunters returned with the spoils we piled it on a long table on the deck.  We ate our fill and continued to observe the action across the way, general merriment ensuing at the expense of the motorists below us. One elderly gentleman, inebriated and not blessed with any common sense, was trying unsuccessfully to shove his sandals under the rear tires of his Jaguar, hoping for some traction. Several of our group took pity and went to help him.

And so our Hogfest began.  We have long since outgrown that particular rental and the empty lot is now filled with two new houses.  We no longer come in July, having found the smaller crowds after Labor Day much more to our liking.  But we still send out the hunter-gatherers to bring back the spoils one night during beach week and tonight was that night.  It's time for some fun, food, and merriment again. 

The ribs are a must. Fresh shrimp and KFC are standard fare.  Tonight Chinese deliciousness and New York style pizza found their way back as well.  We all felt less punchy after the smorgasbord before us was depleted.  Great-tasting, hot food not only comforts, it makes us too tired to get our dander up.  Life is good.

Musings, Kites, and Griswald Moments

I woke up early and decided this would be a good day to walk the beach down to the pier.  Taking my my cup of coffee with me, I left behind a mostly sleeping household and moved across the road and down the shore.  Finishing my coffee while I contemplated the grey clouds obscuring the sunrise, I stowed the empty cup along a sand fence to pick up on my way back.  Finally I make it up in time to see the sunrise and I pick a day when it will be totally hidden behind clouds.  It was still worth it though. The waves breaking close to the shore projected the same violence as always, fascinating me with the knowledge they’d been doing this same thing for thousands of years.  Both soothing and terrifying, they mesmerized me; so beautiful and so deadly.

I headed to the pier off in the distance, passing by houses we'd rented in the past.  We’ve had to find bigger places to fill the needs of our growing family but there are so many memories here, jogged in my mind as I walked along. The first time I came alone, joining friends from Virginia.  Then Paul and the kids came with me.  Now it’s our children and their children and several friends as well. 

I passed one house that we stayed in during a dark time in our lives.  Seeing it brought back some of the hard years we’ve been through and I thanked God for rescuing my son and daughter from potentially tragic influences in their lives.  I passed another and remembered how He had saved me as well from making critical, life-altering decisions.  How much our lives can change with seemingly insignificant choices! I thought about how small my circle was the first few times I came here and how it has expanded with the passage of time.  I felt overwhelmed with gratitude at how God's hand has been evident in good times and bad; He's always there but only as present as we permit Him to be.

I came back to the house wondering why I don't rise early every day for some introspection and reflection.  Maybe it's a habit I should start.

As a child, my attempts at kite-flying met with no success. Fortunately, the aerodynamics in kite design have vastly improved from those available back in the stone age when I was a kid.  And the wind that is usually present on the Atlantic seaboard is much more conducive to liftoff than the faint breeze that sometimes touched down on my childhood farm in Ohio.

I had purchased several kites in Kitty Hawk on previous visits to the outer banks and later in the evening I took my favorite, easiest-to-fly kite over to the beach to show the grandkids what it can do.  The stiff breeze immediately did its job and I unwound the string, letting the bright colors snap into the air high above our heads.  The Littles were enthralled and wanted to hold the handle, attached to the string.  I kept a tight hold higher up the line while they clung tightly to the plastic at the end.  Handing the whole works over to my son-in-law I watched as he handed the line to his two-year-old son.

“I’d hang on to that!” I called out to him, just as my little grandson let go and the kite seized its freedom, taking off down the beach with my son-in-law, Jim, racing along behind. Fortunately, without the tension on the line, the kite swooped toward the ground, inland, away from the water.  After he retrieved it we soon had it aloft again, this time with an adult keeping it in hand.

My daughter Jaimee’ is the photographer in the family.  She possesses an actual camera and a knack for good staging with our often uncooperative bunch. One especially humid and overcast evening, before sundown, she herded us all to the beach for a family photo. Grouping us all together she had one of our friends on hand to snap the shots that would hopefully end up on our Christmas card come holiday time.

It all went fine until she tried to get the individual family shots and then things went rapidly downhill.  It was so humid her camera steamed up, showing shadowy shapes in a cloud of grey.  While this may have hidden our flaws quite nicely, it did make us rather hard to identify.  We resorted back to rapid firing with our phones, trying to beat the deterioration of the Littles.  In short order we all went from smiles and cooperation to rebellion and chaos in the ranks; what started out Hallmark ended decidedly Griswald.  I sometimes wonder if we are more of a mess than other families or just not as successful at hiding it.

The Roger

Everyone spent our first full day ocean-side recovering from travel time. Foraging through the food we brought along for breakfast was better than the prospect of loading up all the Littles and hauling them to a public eatery; that was far too overwhelming a prospect for anyone in the household.

In spite of gloomy forecasts the weather was lovely and we could see the Atlantic waves from the front balconies of the house.  Marlene, Aaron, Jaimee' and Jim took their families to the beach by 6:30 in the morning; the payoff was a beautiful sunrise.  Yes, when one has babies, one no longer sleeps in until mid-morning. Since I'm not a morning person and not the keeper of small children, I rose when I felt like it and enjoyed the sunrise when it was posted on facebook.  Getting older has its perks.

After a relaxing day, the evening was perfect for a walk. I had asked Paul at least three times what his supper plans might be. He was so engrossed in a card game with several of the others he never heard me.  I finally decided to stroll over to the Jolly Roger, one of our favorite places to eat. I met Aaron and Marlene walking back, having just finished their meal with one-year-old Hannah in tow.

"How was it?" I asked

Marlene's expression was resigned.  "When Hannah was on all fours on the table and panting like a dog I said it's time to go."

I couldn't hold back my laugh. That behavior in someone as cute as Hannah would likely only cause smiles from other patrons, although her mother didn't look at all amused. Sometimes it really is fun being old and past the responsibility of managing infants and toddlers in public places. Paul finally finished his card game and discovered I was gone so he walked over to join me.

Memories of other trips always greet me in this place.  My favorite coffee cup back home is from here, a gift from my daughter Jaimee'.  When I enjoy my morning libation from that cup, I get a twinge of vacation vibe and it sweetens real life a bit.  The food is great and the unique atmosphere fits here, by the seaside.  Christmas ornaments hang from the ceiling, year round.  Old movie posters line the walls.  Nautical memorabilia is crammed in every corner and a life-size pirate statue waits inside the door.

This is the first time I see no sign of the woman who was always on hand seating people and taking charge of all things; she looked ancient way back the first time I was ever here.  She never seemed to age any further though, on all my subsequent trips.  I wondered where she might be but I didn't ask.  Maybe I don't really want to know.  Some essential part of the atmosphere seemed lacking without her.

After another delicious meal we walked back to the house for an evening of games, hot-tub and pool time, and more unwinding from real life.

One of the reasons our group has successfully vacationed together is that no one is forced to participate in activities they'd rather forgo. Several of us enjoy fishing before the sun is up. No, I am not one of them.  I enjoy reading on the beach and baking in the sun.  I seem to be alone in this much of the time but that's alright with me.  There's something soothing about losing oneself in a good book in front of waves crashing onto the shore.  Paul prefers hanging around the house, playing guitar or meting out punishment to various victims in a card game. The kids love the pool and the adults love the hot tub.  And we all love the seafood.

Conclusions and Beginnings

I seldom blog unless I'm traveling.  I mean, who wants to hear about me doing the laundry, vacuuming the house, or one of the countless other menial and repetitive chores that make up the mundane?  I find it amusing when I hear people complain that a movie based on "real life" was given liberal doses of added drama.  Seriously, real life is often boring and no one wants to read a litany of its lesser exciting moments.  But I rabbit trail.

When we arrived home from our trip west I meant to finish things off with a neat conclusion but never seemed to find the time to do it.  Just because daily tasks are dull doesn't mean they don't take time.  Now, however, we are starting out on another road trip so I will finish my saga of a month ago before beginning the next chapter.

My cousin and her husband decided to spend a few days in Ohio with us before returning to their home in Florida.  After all, Holmes County is the largest tourist attraction in the state, so why not enjoy it?  And since we seldom take the time to partake of local attractions, having out-of-state guests gave us the perfect excuse to sample some local flavor.

I thought they might enjoy the musical Half Stitched from the book of the same name by Wanda Brunstetter and performances were daily at The Carlisle, an inn fifteen minutes from our house.  I bought tickets for three of us, since Paul had other things he needed to do, and off we went.  And we did enjoy it.  We laughed, we cried, we laughed again.  

Paul had a few ideas for the next day.  He took Wade to Warther's Carvings in Sugarcreek, a place filled with amazing carvings, mostly of trains. Warther's is also the maker of sharp, long-lasting knives, several of which I've used for years.  In the evening we all, along with a few friends, went to the Amish Country Theater for some side-splitting entertainment. The local talent was impressive and we were wiping tears again, this time from laughing.

To finish our vacation we all went to our mutual friends, Dave and Irene's, house for slices of fresh-made pies and raucous conversation.  What a great three weeks it has been!  

And now on to the next adventure.

Paul and I have been bringing the kids to the Outer Banks of North Carolina for years.  Back when we first started we had a twelve-year-old and a ten-year-old.  We came with a group of friends, some married, some single, none with kids except us.  We all brought our Harleys and spent our days and nights eating seafood, crisping at the beach, and riding the bikes late at night to whatever local ice-cream shop struck our fancy.

This year has been a bit different.  Our kids are married now.  There are ten adults and seven children, five of them three and under.  There are no Harleys involved.  There are, however, three pack-n-plays, four portable high chairs, five baby monitors, a sea of sippy cups, bales of diapers, and, most importantly, ear plugs for Paul.  We were all forewarned the dynamic would be a little altered from other years.

Paul and I volunteered to take two grandkids with us on the trek down.  Our plan was to snag the ten-year-olds, both of whom are fairly low-maintenance.  Fate intervened and one of them was delayed a day due to the death of a paternal great-grandmother.  So we had one three-year-old and one of the aforementioned ten-year-olds.  Happily, the toddler we had in tow is a great traveler.  I didn't even need to dig out the video player until shortly before we were at our destination.

One of our traditions on this vacation is a stop mid-way with my niece and her family in the beautiful Shenandoah Valley of Virginia. At one time our kids spent the night there too but we have become such a big crew that out of love for my niece, only Paul and I claim the privilege now.  All the others drive the twelve hours straight through.

Sheri and her husband Glenn live on a beautiful farm, a place with all the freedoms that kids love. Our ten-year-old had a great time riding a four-wheeler with Sheri's two girls who took her to see the new kittens and the campsites by the river.  Glenn showed Paul all the damage done to the cornfield by the local bears. I tried not to freak out at all the bear-attack scenarios running through my mind with dusk approaching, as we stood on the bank of the Shenandoah River that cut through the farm. None of my wild imaginings became reality and we had a lovely time.  We will swing by again on our way home.

We left Virginia early in the morning and arrived in Kill Devil Hills, NC soon after noon.  By early evening our whole crew had arrived. Praise God above, all the babies did surprisingly well traveling. Now for six days in the same house.  That could prove interesting.