Traveling – Not So Far
Wed., September 18, 09:14 AM
Traveling – Not So Far or Wide
Vacations? When I hear people talk about their vacations, I just don’t relate. Other kids went on summer vacations, but we never did. The reason was – and I don’t think it was mentioned more than once, we just knew – that Daddy was in the ice cream business, and his company was busiest in the summertime. It wasn’t something to complain about. My Dad was that rare individual who disciplined his kids with love more than any other method. We seldom behaved contrary to what Daddy wanted, simply because we loved him too much to make him feel bad. It wasn’t toys or candy, because there wasn’t enough money for bribes. That’s just the way it was. For him, it worked.
In the wintertime, of course, we couldn’t go away on vacation because we had to go to school. It was in school that I first heard about people who traveled regularly, to visit relatives if nothing else. The teacher would assign a composition: “what I did on my summer vacation.” I could always make up something. Go visit Grandma? She lived with us till I was six, and then she lived with my aunt a block away. When I was very little, I remember visiting the Brooklyn aunts, but that occurred less often after my brother and sister were born.
By the time I was eight or so, the war was over, Daddy was no longer working two jobs, so he was home more. Therefore, we could do occasional day trips. Daddy would borrow a car (because the bumpy ’36 Chevy wasn’t capable of long trips), and we would go to Staten Island or New Jersey or Playland. Daddy loved to take kids to Playland, especially if they hadn’t been there before. The only other amusement park anyone in our neighborhood had heard of was Coney Island. Playland was much better than Coney Island.
We didn’t go to restaurants much either. For one thing, we still kept kosher, and there was only one kosher deli in town. Whenever we were going somewhere “far,” we’d stop at the deli first for fresh rye bread and corned beef and pickles. My mother would make sandwiches and keep passing them to the back seat, along with the fruit that she’d prepared before we left. Later on there was another reason why we couldn’t go to restaurants – or most other places, either: my little sister was a very wild child. (In retrospect, she may not have been that wild; she was just a lot more active than my brother and I.) We were never left with babysitters unless there was a really important reason – like the time my aunt Lillian stayed with us when my parents went to a wedding. I’m not sure the wedding would have been enough – certainly my mother skipped other weddings – if my dad hadn’t been standing in for the groom’s father, who had passed away several years before.
Probably the real reason we didn’t do a lot of those things was that it cost more than my parents would have thought reasonable. Feeding five people in a restaurant – even if it wasn’t one of the expensive kosher restaurants – was rather steep.
Most of the time we didn’t miss traveling. It was just one of those things that our parents didn’t consider to be of highest priority. (I think my mother also suffered from motion sickness; Dramamine® was not yet on the market.) One summer I remember we went to day camp. (We walked there each morning, and we walked home in the afternoon.) Another summer my brother actually went away to Boy Scout Camp. In a way, his absence was a bit of a vacation for us girls! Usually my favorite thing to do in the summer was to go to the public library and stay there for a couple of hours.
But traveling is part if life – an experience that people really need to learn. I didn’t know how to stay at a hotel until after I grew up. We did take the train to Canada one summer, where we stayed with relatives. Daddy had to stay home, of course, and he missed us a lot and we missed him. My sister was worse than usual, evidently because she was homesick. Anyhow, I did imagine that one day I would travel around, see the sights, learn about the world. Yeah, right. I can count my “big travels” on my fingers!
I went to college, but that wasn’t traveling. We were so closely chaperoned that it was just home away from home. So when I began working full time – with no more need to save for my education – I saved for traveling. Not that I went often; I’m too conservative (i.e., cheap) for “go now, pay later.” I went to California – once with my parents, other times all by myself. Each time I went with the idea of maybe moving there, but each time I found myself missing New York. Nevertheless, in the process, I did manage to see Los Angeles and San Francisco, as well as a little of Tijuana.
So, by the time I got married, I had been to Canada (briefly), Mexico (very briefly), and to California a few times. New York, New Jersey, Connecticut – that was about it. Husband and I didn’t go far on our honeymoon, though we had an enjoyable trip, because we were already thinking about saving our money for a home, kids, etc. Travel was something we would do when the kids grew up.
Flash forward about twenty years. My company was hosting a meeting in St. Thomas, and all the staff and their families were invited. Husband decided he didn’t want to go. But the three kids and I had a wonderful time. I had already made sure that my kids knew the basic etiquette of eating in restaurants (and I don’t mean fast food!). Now they also experienced staying in a hotel. As a matter of fact, when my daughter (M.D.) finished high school, she opted to study the travel business.
A few years later, M.D. and I actually got to one of the places I had always wanted to visit – London. It was marvelous. Our tour had booked us into theaters and special restaurants, but when there was nothing special on our agenda, M.D. and I broke away from the group. We shopped and went sightseeing on our own, even rode the underground by ourselves. I would be happy to go back tomorrow.
I’ve never tried to dissuade my kids from traveling, even when I really didn’t think they could afford it. Heaven knows, if you don’t go when you’re young and unattached, you might never go at all. U.D. once drove from Connecticut to Detroit for a rock concert. Crazy? Maybe. She also spent a summer traveling with a heavy metal band. U.D. is the kind of person who has to learn the hard way, and at least some of the lessons she learned through travel will stand her in good stead.
One of the most difficult travel experiences I had was going to Oregon with Husband, specifically to attend a wedding but also, of course, to see a few sights. It was like traveling with a small child. He doesn’t walk with me, but behind me; even if I wait for him to catch up, he soon lets me go ahead again. I think he does it so that he has someone to follow. Although I would tell him where we were headed (for example, “Gate 29”), he would soon say, “Where did you say we were going?” I was always sure he was going to get lost – and he did a couple of times. But he was easy to find if I just went back to where I last saw him. I had given him an ultimatum: he could either come with me or he could stay in the motel and watch TV, but I was not going to stay and watch with him. So he went wherever I asked, but he didn’t look at much. Mostly he sat and smoked, saying “let me know when you’re done.” Portland is a beautiful city, but I don’t believe he saw it, even when I pointed out such things as the impressive gate to Chinatown. I swore I would never take him anywhere again.
I’m pretty sure I’ll never get to all the places I wanted to see. I used the money I was saving for Europe to pay for my wedding. Next time we had an appreciable amount, we bought a house. I don’t suppose I’ll ever see Israel.
Don’t talk about retiring to somewhere comfortable; Husband says, “you can do that when I’m gone.”
However, many of the “kids” he grew up with now live in Florida, and they often get together for a few days during the winter. They have almost persuaded him to be there (though he always refused in the past). Y’know, if he wants to go, I’ll take him. That’s my job.
I figured I’d better contact one of the “kids” to ask him about traveling there. I know I’ll have to start planning early. For starters, we’ll have to get Husband down to the Department of Motor Vehicles to have a photo ID made. Then I have to worry about transporting him through the airports; he just can’t walk like that any more. So I e-mailed the guy and asked.
You know what the answer was? “That’s the worst time to come down here; don’t come.” I haven’t told Husband; he doesn’t seem to remember the last group get-together. I will ask someone else, when the date comes nearer. But I should have known better. Don’t get involved with geezers!
