Tag Archives: family

Aging, Community, Curiosity, Family Dynamics, Grief, Life, Reading, Spirituality, Wisdom, Work, Writing

Not To Be Morbid or Anything

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One of the tasks I am responsible for at work is checking the obituaries. We have an Excel spread sheet that is used to track the vital information: name, city, date of birth, date of death. We do this so that we remain aware of who has passed in our county. That way, if it happens to be a client, volunteer, or donor, we can ensure a sympathy card goes out in the mail and/or a name is taken off our mailing list, lest a widow or widower receives a solicitation from our organization in the mail with their deceased spouse’s name on it.

Some obits are short and to the point, not revealing much about the deceased beyond who preceded them in death and who from their earthly orbit is left to mourn their loss. These trigger my imagination. I ponder what the reasons could have been for these sparsely worded obits. Perhaps the deceased was not well-liked by their family? Or maybe, perhaps even worse, not well-known? Or perhaps they were so beloved that their loved ones just couldn’t put their heads around how to even begin to express their love for them in writing, momentarily emotionally paralyzed by their grief.

I suppose a percentage of the obits I read are written by paid professionals, though I can’t know for sure. It makes me wonder what information is requested of the families by the writer to allow them to create a tribute to the dearly departed that accurately captures who they were in life. What a sacred thing to be entrusted with.

Often, it seems, in particular with elderly females that have passed, the newly deceased are described in their obits as being “selfless”. I understand for those penning these obits this is high praise, but I can’t help but wonder if these “selfless” women actually got to enjoy their one and only precious lives at all. Or were they just too busy making sure everyone else was taken care of to do any taking care of themselves? No doubt this is a result of both the patriarchy and the generation these folks came up in.

One trend that I’ve noticed in these obituaries, which occurred on Mr. NOA’s side of the family (his maternal grandmother), is that folks are not always having funerals, or even “celebrations of life”. Often, it’s stated in the obits that this is per the deceased wishes.

I don’t get this at all. Funerals and “celebrations of life” are for the living. They are for the people who are devastated that you have passed on from this earthly sphere. Honestly, I think it’s selfish. However, I do understand a person not wanting to have an open casket when their family is having a funeral. I think that’s where Mr. NOA’s grandma was coming from; she didn’t want people looking at her lifeless body in a casket. I don’t want that either. I say cremate me, have a big ‘ol party and listen to my favorite songs.

Some obituaries are so beautifully written and with enough detail to make me wish I had known the person. Like the woman who had a dog named “George Michael Bluth“. I think she was an educator and loved to garden. Or the man who woke his children up by singing “Oh What a Beautiful Morning” at the top of his lungs every day.

There are times when the obits I read are of people who were not elderly. The ones whose lives were cut very short by a sudden medical emergency, accident, or cancer diagnoses. It brings it home for me that life is so fleeting and any control we think we have in how it’s going to end is delusional. It makes me feel like I want to take my life more seriously. Not take myself more seriously, mind you. Just life. Recognizing that each day I get is one to enjoy and appreciate.

I struggled a bit to find the right song to end this blog post with. As an elder Gen Xer, my brain kept returning to the first sad song I remember hearing as a kid, Seasons in the Sun by Terry Jacks. My sister had it on an old ’45 that I could play on my little plastic turntable back in about 1975. When I checked YouTube, I was surprised to learn that Nirvana recorded their own version of this song. Seems fitting to me.

So if you could use a good cry…enjoy?

4th of July, America, Americana Music, Blogging, Community, Faith, Memories, Mental Health, Voting

Happy Birthday, America

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Happy Birthday to you, America, I guess.

Please forgive me for not feeling as enthusiastic about your special day as I did when you turned 200.

Of course, at the time, I was 9 years-old, living a safe, somewhat sheltered, comfortable life with my family in a small town in northern Minnesota. I rode my red, white, and blue bike in the 4th of July parade that year. Carefree and happy to celebrate you with my family and friends.

Let’s just say I’m conflicted about celebrating your birthday this time around. On one hand, I grieve for you and what you have become on account of three things: greed, hatred, and fear. On the other hand, I’m pissed at you. You got played so hard by our current administration and their allies and associates. Decisions you made and “truths” you were groomed to believe have put us in one hell of a mess.

Your flag, which is the greatest physical manifestation of who you are (next to the Statue of Liberty) has been used and abused by those seeking power over you and yours. You’ve allowed it to become sullied. Disrespected.

The people that thought you up are long gone now, but surely the state you are currently in was not their vision.

It’s time for you, (and me and you and you, and you), to start taking you more seriously and stop taking you for granted. One could argue it’s past time.

I can only speak for myself, but there are things that can be done to put you on the right track. Speaking up and speaking out in ways that feel authentic, staying informed about current events and sharing what you learn with others, and voting for candidates that most closely align with American values, like civil liberties and justice for all.

(Yes, I am a proud card-carrying member of the ACLU and you, my kind and smart readers, ought to consider financially supporting this vital organization).

My hope is that when you turn 251 next year, you will be in much better shape. I hope by then you will have weathered the storm that began in earnest in 1980 (with the election of Ronald Reagan) and picked up speed in 2025. That you will finally have realized in your soul that when we work together, we all benefit.

We can pause the news cycle to sit down and look at each other and figure out the best ways to get you in better shape. So you can continue on and be there, in all your glory, for generations to come. We must shine our brightest lights to lead the way for you to become who you were intended to be: a place where people are all on equal footing, the air and water is clean, tyrants are not tolerated, and other countries like yourself trust and believe in you.

Because I believe in you still.

As Senator Paul Wellstone from Minnesota said: “We all do better when we all do better”.

With Sincerity,

An American Woman

The song I’m sharing today is a cover of a famous Woody Guthrie song, which I think all of you are familiar with. The cover is done by an American rock band that I’m starting to dig more and more these days, My Morning Jacket.

Do yourself a favor and stop what you’re doing and revel in this masterpiece of a song, a loving ode to America.

Celebration, family, Grandparenting, Lifestyle, Love, marriage, Minnesconsin, Parenthood

M.O.B. Diaries: The After

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A large sigh of relief came out of me the Sunday after last, upon returning from our overnight in a hotel following our daughter’s wedding.

The whole event went very well. Though it was hot outside at about 80 degrees, no rain poured down from the skies. Our daughter looked beautiful and everyone was happy to be there to celebrate the love between our daughter and son-in-law.

Highlights:

Seeing the groomsmen volunteer to help get Mr. NOA’s parents out of their vehicle and into their seats in the front row, then helping them up and into the vehicle when the ceremony was over. Our son-in-law danced a bit with my MIL to “Everlasting Love” as it blasted from the speakers before she was helped into the vehicle to head to the reception. I would love for someone to have caught that on video, but regardless it will remain a cherished memory for all of us who witnessed it.

My daughter pulling out her vows (turns out wedding dresses have pockets these days!) that she had, the day prior, typed up and printed at our house, and reading them aloud to her beloved for all to hear got me teared up. My son-in-law tossing the box the wedding rings came in into the woods behind the officiant felt really special to me. It was a gesture that symbolized him being done for good with his bachelor era and committing to forever with our daughter.

Our 12-year-old grandson spontaneously saying “I love you, Grandma” as the two of us were taking apart the photo backdrop at the end of the reception warmed my heart so much. Watching him run around, dancing and playing with the other kids (including his best friend) at the reception made my heart happy. Knowing how much this kid has gone through in his young life on account of his bio dad and seeing him being authentically happy and carefree is just everything to me. I’m so looking forward to the fun we’re going to have with him this summer here in Minnesconsin.

And that baby. He hardly fussed the entire time. He had his two other grandmas, along with me, a groomsman, two of my girlfriends and more cuddling him throughout the entire event. When we got to the hotel when the night was over, it was a simple “here’s your bottle kiddo” and before I knew it he was out like a light. Waking up next to an almost one-year-old in the morning is quite the delight, I discovered. Sing-songy, studying and playing with my hand and trying to put his hand in my mouth was how we started that morning.

Witnessing the beaming couple take to the dance floor as if they were truly the only two people in the room. Or on the planet really. So sweet and romantic.

Not that the whole day didn’t have a few snafus here and there. Like when I lost my footing while carrying the baby and not so gingerly plopped him in his wagon, leading him to cry as the first of the wedding party began their descent towards the alter.

Or when some of the guests overserved themselves at the bar and created a bit of a ruckus, spouting off their unsolicited opinions and being generally obnoxious. Not that any of that isn’t to be expected at a family wedding though, right?

It was perfectly imperfect.

At the risk of sounding unoriginal or like a cliche, I’d say that our daughter’s wedding was a beautiful example of “framily”. The blending of biological and non-biological family members and friends. All to witness the beginning of a marriage between soulmates. A day that we will all remember with fondness and love.

I have great hopes that this event is just the first of many spent with our new extended “framily”.

A few pics from this monumental day:

Now to share a gorgeous collaboration between Barry Gibb of the Bee Gees and Brandi Carlile. I recommend you turn up the volume and just marinate in this beauty.

Black History Month, Connections, Diversity, Grandparenting, Music, Positivity, Respect

Re-Re-Re: 1st post in a series

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Alright, my word nerd friends: do you have a favorite prefix-a short couple of letters that precede a word that changes that word’s meaning?

I do. It’s “re”. There are are multitude of remarkable words that start with this prefix, which is why I’m saying with uncustomary confidence that this is the first in a series of blog posts about “re”.

But first.

I’m going to start with a word that begins with the letters “r” and “e” but isn’t the prefix “re”.

That would be the word “respect”, or as Miss Aretha crowed “R.E.S.P.E.C.T.” She also belted out “re-re-re-re” in that iconic song, which has been firmly lodged into my songbrain since at least last week. The best line in that song is one in which Aretha demonstrates how she has respect for herself: “I’m about to give you all of my money. And all I’m asking for in return honey is to give me my propers when you get home.” A woman clearly stating what she expects and why she deserves it. That, I respect.

Another artist I respect and appreciate is Roberta Flack. She is most certainly in my top 5 of all-time favorite female singers. I caught the portion of the 2026 Grammys where she was honored (she died one year ago today, actually) and it occured to me just how much I love her voice. Her song “Killing Me Softly” breaks open my heart every time I hear it. The vulnerability in the lyrics and how she delivers them is nothing short of breathtaking. Rocking my 7 month-old grandson the other day, I found myself playing Roberta’s songs on Spotify and was reminded of the duets she did (like this one) with Donny Hathaway. Doing a little bit of googling for this blog post, I learned that the two of them met as students at Howard University. I found this interesting article about Roberta’s lasting influence at Howard and her musical partnership with Donny. You can check it out here.

In the course of my online exploration of Roberta’s life and music, I found myself wondering if Aretha and Roberta’s paths ever crossed. Answer: they did.

They took the stage, along with Sarah Vaughn and Peggy Lee, in 1973 to honor Duke Ellington. I’ll share the video here, though it’s pretty grainy. Those gowns, right?

As it’s Black History Month, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention other black artists whose talent I respect.

There’s the iconic Prince, born and raised in Minneapolis, a city dear to my heart. His passing, almost 10 years ago now, was such a shock, wasn’t it? He was a one-of-a-kind artist who was unapologetically and beautifully himself.

The powerhouse vocalist and performer Tina Turner. The strikingly handsome, talented change agent Harry Belafonte. Bill Withers, who lifted us all up with songs like “Lovely Day” and “Lean on Me”. The man who also gave us that perfectly soulful and funky song “Use Me” and the classic “Ain’t No Sunshine”.

It appears it’s time to make myself a new Spotify playlist so that I can marinate in these wondrous, passionate black voices and share their talent with the young ones in my life.

Celebration, family, Grandparenting, Holidays, Hospitality, Intentionality, Joy, Life, Lifestyle, marriage

Christmas Has Arrived in Minnesconsin

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Last week, I attended our grandson’s 6th grade band and choir concert. Our new grandbaby sat on mom’s lap and enjoyed the show, nodding off towards the end. Our 6th grader looked handsome with his festive tie and white button-down. It struck me that 6th grade is the specific time when kids are all wildly different sizes and heights. Our grandson is no longer the tallest one. In fact, we couldn’t even see him standing on the bleachers, as he was behind a tall blonde headed girl with glasses.

It must be such a trip to teach kids this age.

Mr. NOA was in DC for work last week. I couldn’t help but wish I’d been able to tag along this time. DC this time of year is a little extra special and I’ve always enjoyed being there during the holiday season. However, with him gone, I had more time to do my own thing. Like creating a new Christmas craft out of old Christmas cards while listening to Bing Crosby and friends belting out the merriest of tunes. So that was nice. The cookies all got sent out, and the shopping mostly wrapped up.

1 of 17, perhaps?

Speaking of Christmas cards, this marks year the second year in a row we’ve chosen to not send them out. I feel a little shitty about that, in particular when we receive one in the mail from a faraway friend. I always thought I should be one of those people who pen a yearly Christmas newsletter informing all of what went on in our orbit over the previous year and wishing them all good things for their holiday seasons. Alas, I have yet to attempt this. I chalk it up to being preoccupied with all the other Christmas-associated tasks, such as shopping, decorating, and cookie baking, which renders my bandwidth too meager for such an extra task.

Maybe after all these years, I’ve learned to stop biting off more than I can chew?

Speaking of biting (and chewing), here’s a silly little pic I took the other day of a freshly sliced dough of a Santa’s Whiskers cookie that, to me, appears to be in the shape of a heart. This was just a result of not quite getting a Martha Stewart-worthy circle-shaped log rolled before it chilled in the fridge for a bit.

One thing that is really standing out during Christmastime 2025 for me, is the simple joy of staying put. I’m surprised to hear myself say/write this. One of the most true things I can tell you, in my current era, is that the time and space between when Mr. NOA, Radar, and I moved out of the Denver metro and into Minnesconsin in 2022 has resulted in me becoming more in tune with my introverted side, more relaxed and grounded, but also much more of a homebody. Now, I can’t say this is a 100% good turn of events per se, but it’s true. Suffice it to say that I’m not terribly disappointed to not have gone to DC last week with my man.

The clear upside of becoming a homebody is that it allows me time to plan for and host company. Employing my hospitality skills is such a joyful experience for me. I team up with Mr. NOA, and together we get this joint spic-and-span. I plan whatever food and drink we will be serving, using the “keep it simple, sister” method always. I prepare said food and drink, futz around a little with the Christmas decor and whatnot, and we are good to go.

As a matter of fact, on Sunday we hosted my daughter and her fiance, two of the three grandsons, my SIL, and 5 of fiance’s family members for a wedding planning brunch. An agenda was followed, items were checked off and lists were made, phone numbers exchanged, and wedding decor, along with food and drink options were discussed.

What a beautiful thing it is when romantic love between two souls joins together two entire families. The *chef’s kiss* is when it’s abundantly clear that every person involved in this affair is thrilled it is happening and eager to support it in all the ways that they can.

Now, to get those presents wrapped, take in a Christmas movie or two, and proceed with making some appetizers and other goodies to nosh on with our family throughout this week, and it appears that this is going to be a sweet little Christmas.

I wish each of you the merriest of holidays! I hope you enjoy the pairing of these two epically talented chanteuses performing a lovely version of the sweetest Christmas song I can think of.

Dogs, Grandparenting, Lifestyle, Simplicity

What’s on your Summer Bucket List?

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The thing about summer is that it’s so fleeting. It comes up so fast and before you know it, the leaves are changing and the temps are dropping. Boats are put away for the season and kids are getting back to school.

Here in Minnesconsin, it is just now starting to feel like a proper summer. We have had so much rain it’s ridiculous. And if it wasn’t raining, it was in the high 90’s. As a result, we’ve been spending more time indoors than we had hoped to.

Today, however, it’s in the mid-70’s with nary a cloud in the sky. Mr. NOA and I are planning to take a cruise on our pontoon once he’s done with his workday.

I have a history of being that person with lots of grand ideas about cramming as much fun into the summer season as possible. I’m determined that this summer, with our newest grandson about to be born (daughter is being induced on Friday!), things will be less frenzied than summers past.

There’s no big travel plans on the horizon, save for a few days visiting my side of the family in northern Minnesota. We are, for the most part, staying put.

But staying put doesn’t mean fun isn’t going to be had. The fun, however, will be localized and simple.

Things like making homemade ice cream with the fancy machine my awesome SIL got me for Christmas. As many pontoon rides as possible. ‘Smores over the campfire. Putting ice cubes in the kiddy pool for Radar and our kid’s two dogs to play in on a hot day. Drinking wine on the patio at our local winery. Seeing a summer blockbuster movie in the theater. Playing croquet in the yard with our 11-year-old grandson. Gardening and further beautifying our outdoor space. Getting out in our kayaks.

And of course, rocking that baby.

I’ve created a Spotify playlist for our pontoon excursions this summer. It’s filled with “yacht rock” style music, mostly from the 70’s and 80’s. I’ll be adding this one as soon as I hit the publish button on this post.

Please share what’s on your summer bucket list in the comments!

Celebrate, family, Grandparenting, Lifestyle, Love, Planning

Grandma is in Planning Mode

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I recently caught myself adding “make to-do lists” for various events coming up in my life on my semi-regular weekly “to-do” list.

Yes, I am neurotic. And/or ADHD.

Let’s just say I am in full-on planning mode right now, friends. I am a bit out of practice in this arena, as the last gathering I executed with more than 8 invitees was almost 10 years ago.

The nearest of these happenings is the baby shower I’m planning for my beautiful daughter, who just arrived at the third trimester of her second pregnancy. This is coming up in less than 2 weeks.

Yikes!

I’ve got games lined up. What’s a baby shower without a few goofy games, right? One of the games is an A-Z challenge where people are given a set amount of time to write down baby names. Whoever gets the most wins a prize.

Silly yet serious question: do I play a song-maybe one with the word baby in the title, or use one of the plastic hourglass timers from one of the many board games we rarely play, while folks are rapidly trying to capture every baby name they can think of on paper? I want to make sure everyone has enough, but not too much, time for this challenge.

Here’s another one: do I fulfill my hosting daydreams by baking various sweet treats to display on the beautiful tiered treat stand thing that I’m on a mission to buy this weekend? In addition to the cake I ordered yesterday from the grocery store bakery, because like those aforementioned goofy games, what’s a baby shower without a cake?

These are but a few of the thoughts that are plaguing my brain these days.

These two kids of ours-our daughter and her fiance-have not yet determined baby’s name. There have been a few (which I won’t share because one of them I really love and secretly hope they choose and I don’t want to jinx it) they have talked about, but at this point they think they’ll know baby’s name when they see his face.

Plot twist!

I wrote the above paragraph earlier in the week…and guess what? Our daughter texted me yesterday to say they have landed on a name. It is the one I favored! His name will be Levi.

From parents.com: The name Levi has become a favorite amongst new parents for being both traditional and trendy. It means “united,” “joined,” or, sometimes, “joined in harmony.”

To think that 11 years ago, I was beside myself with angst about becoming a first-time grandma at the oh-so-young age of 47!

I’ve looped in our daughter’s fiance’s mom and step-mom to help with executing this affair. I find it slightly awkward texting back and forth with them, as I’ve only met them in person a handful of times since our kids got together almost 3 years ago. But I am looking forward to interacting with my future son-in-law’s large family as time goes on. This baby shower is going to usher in the joining of our families.

Isn’t it just an amazing and beautiful thing how families evolve over time?

Enjoy this cover of a sweet song I love to sing to babies!

Adult children, bloggingfundamentals, Humor, Motherhood

Dear Moms

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Dear moms of children ages 12-22,

It gets better. You don’t have to take my word for it, but you should. I have been in your shoes. I’ve experienced unnecessary dressing room drama, engaged in numerous battles over the refusal to eat lovely and nutritious meals put in front of my children (child really-you know who you are), and hosted multiple obnoxious “friends” for sleep overs.

And I survived it all. Fortunately my two kids came out relatively unscathed as well.

These two children I speak of are not perfect. Neither achieved straight A’s in any grade between 1st through 12th. Neither were gifted athletes (they can thank my genes for this as one who was consistently picked last for team sports in gym class back in the day and cannot safely ride a bike). Neither were hard workers.

Slowly but surely though, between the ages of about 21 and 24, I started to see them shine. My oldest managed to graduate with her Associates degree from technical college at the age of 23, while simultaneously juggling a full time job at a fast food chain and becoming a mother for the first time. My youngest, the artist in the family, bounced around a few places (including a stint in college which lasted a solid two years), before landing in Indianapolis where she is making a (albeit meager)  living on her art. She also learned how to speak Japanese and spent time there during her college years.

These two former knotheads are now hardworking, appreciative, resilient, intelligent and thoughtful young adults. I treasure my relationships with them now and am beyond proud of who they are becoming.

If anyone had been able to foresee the future back in about 2008 in respect to my children, I can’t say for certain I would have believed them. At the time, I figured clown college or digging ditches were more likely in their future than what they have now achieved at ages 23 and 24.

Instead, they went and surpassed my expectations. Kids are full of surprises.

So, hang in there moms. It will get better despite what may or may not be occurring in the present. You’ve got this. SAMSUNG DIGITAL CAMERA

Blogging, bloggingfundamentals, Diving, Fear, Humor, Inspire

Fear

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I’m a really good “chicken outer”. The first solid memory I have of allowing fear to control my actions was in about 5th grade. It happened in gym class. This was back in the day when all the kids had to wear, for lack of a better descriptor, a swimming “uniform” along with the dreaded skull cap to keep our hair out of our faces. Despite feeling horribly self conscious with my developing body and naked face, I absolutely loved this section of gym class because I was pretty good at swimming. I really enjoyed it, and still do. But diving into the pool….not so much.

I vividly recall the feeling of utter panic when our gym teacher, a short freckled woman somewhere in her 40’s (at the time she was probably only 30 something, but as a kid every adult seemed as if they were much older than they actually were), sharply ordered me to dive off the diving board into the pool. Standing there, freezing cold and dripping wet at the end of the diving board with my classmates looking on, I felt paralyzed. All I could envision was going in headfirst into the chilly water to my death. I was convinced that my head would hit the bottom of the pool and that would be that. Dead at age 11. So I chickened out. I instead went in feet first, plunging in, falling deeper into the water and frantically kicking my legs to propel my pubescent body to the surface. The sense of relief I felt was all encompassing. But shortly after, as I swam to the other end of the pool and hoisted myself up and out, I felt horribly ashamed and embarrassed about myself. Unfortunately, though I had multiple opportunities to attempt diving again throughout the rest of the swimming section of our gym class, I stuck with the chickening out method of jumping in feet first every single time. I’ve periodically wondered over the years how different my life would have been if I had had the guts to dive into that pool headfirst, for real.

Now, for those who know anything about my upbringing, it would be easy to conclude that as the youngest child (my next oldest sibling is 8 1/2 years older than me), whose father was always overly cautious in all things (true stories: growing up, I was not allowed to mow the lawn or ride my bike beyond the busiest main street of our town as dad deemed these activities to be too dangerous for me),  I was predisposed to chickening out when something scared me. While that may be true, I am now a grown woman of 50 with a husband, two kids and a grandson, so there is no point whatsoever in playing any sort of “blame game” here.  For all I know, my dad preventing me from participating in some activities could have saved me from serious injury or even death. His overly cautious nature was directly linked to the abundance of love he had for me. I totally get it.  However, in a lot of aspects of my life I remain a “chicken outer” (my refusal to drive in big city traffic is one prime example).

As a slightly neurotic, people pleasing overthinker, blogging brings up a boatload of fears for me, such as:

That I will inadvertently share something about someone in my life whom I care about that will cause them emotional harm and negatively impact the way they feel about me.

That I will express an opinion in a post that could be conceived as too controversial by some, causing others to shun me or harshly criticize me.

That I will come across as self-absorbed and share too much of my personal life, thereby embarrassing my family.

That I will simply run out of topics to blog about and fail miserably as a blogger.

I am quite certain I could sit here all day, tapping away on my keyboard as I come up with a million and eight reasons to be afraid of blogging with my authentic voice. But really, what a horrible waste of time that would be.

I’ve heard it said that people on their death beds often do not speak of regrets for those things they had done, but rather for those things in life they hadn’t done. This makes great sense to me. That is why I’m making the decision, right here and right now, to dive head first into blogging. At least I’m guaranteed to not hit my head on the bottom of the pool, right?

 

Laughter

It’s that time of the year

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I love that spring is now afoot. Especially delightful hallmarks of this season for me include more hours of daylight, birds chirping away in the trees in our neighborhood, and the promise of new life. Spring also makes me a little antsy for a good old fashioned road trip. Over the course of my life, I have been fortunate enough to have several memorable road trips in the spring, some with family and some with friends.

My earliest recollection of a spring road trip was in 1974, when I was 7. My parents decided to take me and my siblings, who were 15 and 17 at the time, and my Grandma (aka Pearl Pearl the Party Girl), on a road trip to visit family in Phoenix. We drove from our home in northern Minnesota in a family caravan of sorts, with my aunt and uncle and their kids in their own car. My sister, brother (who was six feet tall with the longest, skinniest legs you have ever seen), and I sat squished together in the backseat of Dad’s sedan ( I think it was a Chevy Impala) for the long trek to Arizona, with the two family’s cars switching out Grandma Pearl for a kid during pit stops along the way. I remember singing along to songs like “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on My Head”, “Knock Three Times”, and “Cracklin’ Rosie” while gazing at the totally foreign-to -me landscape of cacti-infused deserts. As this was long before portable DVD players and Iphones, we played “car games” to prevent boredom. If someone smelled a skunk on the road, we would play “I smell a skunk” with someone responding “I won it”, the someone else would chime in “I two it”, and so on until the last responder would exclaim “I eight it!” (get it? “I ate it!) Or we’d play the “alphabet game” where we’d spy letters from a-z on road signs and license plates. The winner was whoever got to “z” first. Or we’d count how many red, blue, or black cars we could find. Ah, those were simple times!  The most memorable part of this trip, however, is when we lost Grandma at Disneyland. What a stellar moment for our family.  I can never hope to tell this story in as much glorious detail as my mother could, but suffice it to say that my parents thought my aunt, uncle and cousins transported Grandma back to the motel we were all staying at, and vice versa. Everyone was confused and horrified to learn that Grandma was nowhere to be found. She came back a few hours later in a taxi and she was not a happy woman. Apparently, she made sure to tell the story of her family abandoning her at Disneyland to the motel owner upon her return. This is not a surprise as she tended to be a pretty ornery (I say this with love) broad. According to my mom,  several years later, when she and dad  went to check into the same motel on a trip to California, the motel owner exclaimed “I know you! You are the ones that lost Grandma in Disneyland”.

My one and only college springtime road trip involved a harrowing drive with my roommate/sorority sister from Minnesota to Pascagoula, Mississippi, during which the driver (not me) decided on a couple of occasions that it was a good idea to read her map whilst speeding down unfamiliar highways. I’m pretty certain that was the first time my life actually flashed before my eyes. Fortunately, we made it to Pascagoula, where we partied the nights away with my friend’s boyfriend and his Marine buddies, and soaked up the Mississippi sun on our plastic loungers during the day.

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As a wife and mom through the 90’s and 00’s, I recall many fun family road trips. There was the time when our girls were still in elementary school, and the four of us drove to see my folks, who were staying in Alabama for the winter. The trip down was a blur of crummy fast food, stopping every hour or two for our youngest to use the facilities (mostly out of boredom we suspected), singing along to the radio (before there was Sirius XM), and playing the “alphabet game”. We spent a lot of quality time with my folks and all got to swim in the ocean together for the first time. And my husband bought a (mismarked) surfboard with a “Corona” logo on it for $14.99. He only used it while we were there, since we lived in Minnesota at the time, where of course there are no oceans.

As an empty nester couple for the past 4 years or so, we have enjoyed some really cool road trips as well. Like the times we drove from our home in Wisconsin to visit Colorado, stopping over in places like Omaha and North Platte, where we discovered some great restaurants, wine bars, and tap rooms. With spring upon us, I’m looking forward to some shorter road trips with the hubs to explore parts of Colorado and nearby states. I am relatively confident that these trips will not include crummy fast food, near death driving experiences, or one of us being abandoned at an amusement park. We shall see…

Road Tripping