A Traveling We Will Go

One summer the family accompanied me on a business trip to San Francisco where I needed to stay downtown at the upscale, high-rise Hilton hotel. We drove up to the valet parking area in the minivan and stopped next to a Mercedes Benz, a Jaguar, and several BMWs, all driven by very professional people dripping with diamonds and minks. There were quite a few stares when the parking attendant opened the side door of the minivan, and then quickly jumped back, as four kids tumbled out, clad in rumpled shorts and T-shirts, followed by fifty pounds of cracker crumbs, gum wrappers, red licorice, and wadded-up McDonald’s cheeseburger wrappers. Up in the Hilton room, I ordered out for pizza instead getting the expensive room service. The hotel was too sophisticated to allow a pizza delivery boy to ride up and down the elevators with pepperoni fumes pouring from a cardboard box. So the front desk called me to come down, past all the diamonds and minks and stares, to retrieve the pizza. After dinner, when it seemed like everything was under control, William had a messy diaper and TerriLu discovered that the diapers were still out in the minivan. I was about to improvise using a pillow case with the Hilton logo, but then changed his mind and ventured out to the parking garage to get the Pampers. The minivan had been valet-parked so it took me awhile to find the vehicle.

We actually love gallivanting around the western United States in the minivan. Some folks have wondered how we survive all those long hours cooped up in a car together without using sedatives and tranquilizers. Well, that is how we do it – we use sedatives and tranquilizers.

Actually, we have a system for traveling and we just pretty much enjoy being together. TerriLu and I sit up front, Melissa shares the middle seat with Michael, and Jonathan and William sit in the back. There’s an empty space between every set of two people sitting together which works quite well—the clothing from one child can’t even rub up against the clothing on another child, and hence, there are fewer altercations. Also, those who make the most noise are furthest from those who tolerate noise the least—Jonny and William just can’t handle Mom and Dad’s incessant yakking!

By leaving early in the morning, usually before 3:00 a.m., the kids sleep for a good portion of the trip, and about the time they wake up, there is always a McDonald’s just a few miles ahead. After eating breakfast and romping around the play land, the kids are able to sit for a few more hours. To pass the time, the kids talk, read books, sing songs, listen to my stories, color pictures, eat my junk food, listen to tapes, and sleep. TerriLu and I spend most of the time just talking together and lecturing the kids on keeping the car clean. I have driven some highway stretches so many times over the years that the car and I know most of the routes by heart. Between Ellensburg and Kennewick, Washington, for example, I can usually get in at least two hours of sleep, in spite of being at the wheel.

During one spring break, we drove to southern California from Seattle, Washington. On the way we saw the Pacific Coast in Oregon, stopped at the sea lion caves, ran up and down the sand dunes, walked in the Redwood Forest, and then spent two days at Disneyland. At Disneyland, the kids had almost as much fun on the rides as TerriLu and I did. On the second afternoon, as we all waited thirty minutes in line for the canoe ride around Tom Sawyer’s island, we noticed dark, ominous-looking clouds gathering above. Just as we paddled away from the dock, a cloud burst burst. Fortunately, we had twelve paddlers on board. Unfortunately, eight of the paddlers were shorter than their paddles.

In spite of the drenching, Disneyland was great. As we arrived home later that week, TerriLu and I asked which adventure the kids enjoyed most on the trip—the sand dunes, the Redwood forest, or Disneyland? We wondered if the two days and the money spent at a man-made fantasyland would outclass the two simple, but “gratis” mornings surrounded by God’s handiwork. And the voting result? A three-way tie – the kids couldn’t decide between the trees, the dunes, and Walt’s place.

(Hey, trivia buffs… The photograph for the front cover and back cover of Small Talk – Out of the Mouths of Babes was shot on the Oregon Coast beach on the above described trip).

To help with the long hours in the car on vacation trips, we bought a portable television with a built-in video-cassette player. In the olden days on family trips, when the kids asked, “When will we be there?” we would answer in unison, “In nine hours.” Five minutes later, a voice from the back, usually Michael’s, would ask, “Now when will we be there?” When the folks repeated the “nine-hour” answer, the voice in the back would squawk incredulously, “But that’s what you said last time.” This question-and-answer dialogue generally lasted eight hours and fifty-five minutes on a nine hour trip.

The TV-VCP changed all that. Now, when the kids ask, “When will we be there?” they only ask once because the answer is a very definite, “We’ll be there after The Little Mermaid, all three Star Wars movies, and Home Alone. Don’t ask again until the credits roll by for Macaulay Culkin and Joe Pesci.”

We should have patented that invention because now you can purchase portable DVD players and strap them to the front seat headrests using Velcro. And now automobiles come equipped with several flat screens in headrests and folding down from the ceiling each with a different movie playing.

I even constructed a multipurpose stand/organizer/VHS-tape holder with two shelves. A 2×10 formed the base/lower shelf, the sides, the upper shelf, and the top where the Costco TV rested. I used several bungee cords to strap the TV to the stand, and smaller bungee cords to hold the tapes in place on the shelves amid bumps and potholes. The entire contraption sat between the two front seats, held snuggly in place by the side seat cushions. The shelves boasted a library of fourteen videos. The librarian, Melissa, the oldest, was in charge of removing a single movie at a time for the entire viewing audience, inserting it into the player, and pressing the play button. The audience preselected the films through unanimous vote or simply by individual choice. Usually each child could pick at least two favorite movies for a total of eight movies on an extended trip (roundtrip).

TerriLu did have one complaint about the high-tech device that sat between the folks in the front seat and faces the four munchkins in the back. With minimal effort and a little cruise-control, I could lean back and sneak a few peaks at the backseat entertainment, which I felt appropriately reduced some of the monotony of driving those long stretches of highway. When TerriLu caught me, I innocently claimed that I was looking back to check that the kids were safely buckled in or that I was fondly observing the sweet, mesmerized faces of our offspring glued to Harry and the Hendersons. Of course, she didn’t buy it for a second, nor did she believe my I-was-just-checking-my-blind-spot-before-changing-lanes excuse, even when I was in the left lane.

On our many interstate jaunts, with me tooling down the interstate with the cruise-control set at 69 miles per hour, listening to Billy Joel on my Walkman, with Mom playing Tetris on the Nintendo GameBoy trying to get to the tenth level, and with the kids sitting glued to the tube watching the latest in video propaganda, the family really developed an appreciation for what the early Mormon pioneers endured as they trekked across the plains on their way West…. Well, maybe not!

To sum it all up, TerriLu and I and the kids do really enjoy long family trips – well, except for the 237 (465 by some reports) potty breaks. Actually, we don’t stop too often. Other than for refueling the car’s tank, we generally stop for only two reasons: to empty a full bladder or to fill an empty stomach, and at each gas stop, the latter is optional while the former is not.

After my first several business trips with HP, TerriLu and the kids excitedly met me at the gate in the Boise airport (we only had one car at the time so they had to drop me off and pick me up) – now they can’t even wait by the jet-way because of Homeland Security regulations. Soon the novelty wore off but they got excited when I arrived home – if I came bearing gifts. Not long after that they just said “Hi” when I came in the door. Eventually, when I’d walk in and say, “I’m back,” they would ask, “Were you gone somewhere?” Even the dogs hardly noticed my presence or lack thereof.

Family Travels

One summer the family accompanied me on a business trip to San Francisco where I needed to stay downtown at the fancy, high-rise Hilton. We drove up to the valet parking area in the minivan and stopped next to a Mercedes Benz, a Jaguar, and several BMWs, all driven by very professional people dripping with diamonds and minks. There were quite a few stares when the parking attendant opened the side door of the minivan, and then quickly jumped back, as four kids tumbled out, clad in shorts and T-shirts, followed by fifty pounds of cracker crumbs, gum wrappers, and wadded-up McDonald’s cheeseburger wrappers.

Up in the Hilton room, I ordered out for pizza instead getting the expensive room service. The hotel was too sophisticated to allow a pizza delivery boy to run up and down the elevators with pepperoni fumes pouring from a cardboard box so the front desk called me to come down, past all the diamonds and minks and stares, to retrieve the pizza. After dinner, when it seemed like everything was under control, William had a messy diaper and TerriLu discovered that the diapers were still out in the minivan. I was about to improvise using a pillow case with the Hilton logo, but then changed my mind and ventured out to the parking garage to get the disposable diapers.

The family actually loved gallivanting around the western United States in the minivan. Some folks have wondered how we survived all those long hours cooped up in a car together without using sedatives and tranquilizers. Well, that is how we did it—we used sedatives and tranquilizers.

Actually, we had a system for traveling and we just pretty much enjoyed being together. Mom and Dad sat up front, Melissa shared the middle seat with Michael, and Jonathan and William sat in the back. There was an empty space between every set of two people sitting together which worked quite well—the clothing from one child couldn’t even rub up against the clothing on another child, and hence, there were fewer altercations. Also, those who made the most noise were farthest from those who tolerated noise the least—the boys just can’t handle Mom and Dad’s incessant yakking!

By leaving early in the morning, usually before 3:00 a.m., the kids slept for a good portion of a trip, and about the time they woke up, there was always a McDonald’s just a few miles ahead. After eating breakfast and romping on the play land, the kids were able to sit for a few more hours. To pass the time, the kids talked, read books, sang songs, listened to my stories, colored pictures, ate my junk food, listened to tapes, and slept. TerriLu and I spent most of the time just talking together and lecturing the kids on keeping the car clean. I had driven some highway stretches so many times over the years that I and the car knew most of the routes by heart. Between Ellensburg and Kennewick, Washington, for example, I could usually get in at least two hours of sleep, in spite of being at the wheel.

During one spring break, we drove to southern California. On the way we saw the Pacific coast in Oregon, stopped at the sea lion caves, ran up and down the sand dunes, walked in the Redwood forest, and then spent two days at Disneyland. At Disneyland, the kids had almost as much fun on the rides as TerriLu and I did. On the second afternoon, as we all waited thirty minutes in line for the canoe ride around Tom Sawyer’s island, we noticed dark, ominous-looking clouds gathering above. Just as we paddled away from the dock, a cloud burst hit. Fortunately, we had twelve paddlers on board. Unfortunately, eight of the paddlers were shorter than their paddles.

In spite of the drenching, Disneyland was great. As we arrived home later that week, TerriLu and I asked which adventure the kids enjoyed most on the trip—the sand dunes, the Redwood forest, or Disneyland? TerriLu and I wondered if the two days and the money spent at a man-made fantasy land would outclass the two simple, but “gratis” mornings spent surrounded by God’s handiwork. And the voting result? A three-way tie—the kids couldn’t decide between the trees, the dunes, and Walt’s place.

To help with the long hours in the car on vacation trips, TerriLu and I bought a portable television with a built-in video-cassette player. (This was two decades before DVD players were available in cars). In the olden days on family trips, when the kids asked, “When will we be there?” TerriLu or I would answer, “In nine hours.” Five minutes later, a voice from the back of the car would ask, “Now, when will we be there?” When we repeated the “nine-hour” answer, the voice in the back would squawk incredulously, “But that’s what you said last time.” This question-and-answer dialogue generally lasted eight hours and fifty-five minutes on a nine hour trip.

The TV/VCP changed all that. When the kids asked, “When will we be there?” they only asked once because the answer was a very definite, “We’ll be there after The Little Mermaid, all three Star Wars shows, and Home Alone. Don’t ask again until the credits roll by for Macaulay Culkin and Joe Pesci.”

TerriLu did have one complaint about the high-tech contraption which sat between us in the front seats and faced the four munchkins in the back. With minimal effort and a little cruise-control, I could lean back and sneak a few peaks at the back-seat entertainment, which I felt appropriately reduced some of the monotony of driving those long stretches of highway.

When TerriLu caught me peaking at the TV, I innocently claimed I was looking back to check that the kids were safely buckled in or that I was fondly observing the sweet, mesmerized faces of our offspring glued to Harry and the Hendersons. Of course, TerriLu didn’t buy it for a second, nor did she believe my I-was-just-checking-my-blind-spot-before-changing-lanes excuse, even when I was in the left lane.

On our many cross-country jaunts, with me tooling down the interstate with the cruise-control set at 69 mph and listening to Billy Joel on my Walkman, with TerriLu playing Tetris on the Nintendo Gameboy trying to get to the tenth level, and with the kids sitting glued to the tube watching the latest in video propaganda, the family really developed an appreciation for what the early pioneers endured as they crossed the plains on their way west – well, not quite.

To sum it all up, TerriLu and I and the kids did really enjoy our long family trips—well, except for the 237 potty stops. Actually, we didn’t stop too often. Other than for refueling the car, we generally stopped for only two reasons—to empty a full bladder or to fill an empty stomach, and at each gas stop, the latter was optional for each traveler while the former was not.