Bathing suits, sun tan lotion, swimmies, hats and towels. Ah, to be heading towards the sunny south, or west, or out of the country! To have the chance to revisit the summer, get a bit sun-kissed and feel the warmth in our bones in the midst of this oddly warm, but strangely raw, winter.
As a kid, my family was not a winter vacation family. The trips to Florida began after my folks retired. Though I was able to join them from time to time, we didn’t pour through catalogs in the winter, planning our escape to the tropics.
In season, my folks, like most, worked their tails off. Dad, of course, was a mechanic at Al Silva’s, and Mom, a Nurse in the winter, waited tables all summer. Dad would don his cutoffs, and he and I would go to the Cricks for a quick dip a few nights a week after he got home, but we weren’t a beach family….in the summer, that is.
In season, my folks, like most, worked their tails off. Dad, of course, was a mechanic at Al Silva’s, and Mom, a Nurse in the winter, waited tables all summer. Dad would don his cutoffs, and he and I would go to the Cricks for a quick dip a few nights a week after he got home, but we weren’t a beach family….in the summer, that is.
Come January, after the holidays and hoopla were done, we would pack Dad’s Willy’s panel wagon or his Wagoneer, and caravan with a few other families out to Coatue and Coskata. The Viscos, Chadwicks, and Johnson’s all in a line, coolers packed and Hibachi’s ready for hot dogs. Each family had their specialty, and Mom always made something hot; often a pot of Kale Soup. This traveled, nestled in a blanket, snug in a milk crate with the lid taped on. The kids were on the tailgate or hanging off the sides, but the soup was always kept safe. Additionally, we packed chips and dips, crackers and cheese, and always cookies or a cake.
There were probably eight to fifteen kids, depending on who was around. We scampered over every inch of Coskata, chasing the jack rabbits that used to run and roam. More than once, at least a few of us broke out in poison ivy. Mom took to bringing a bar of Fels Naptha so we could wash off out there in the water. I never remember really being cold. We always had piles of blankets and the sweatshirts seemed to rotate from kid to kid. We would shake the blankets out, fold them up, and leave in the back of the car till next week. (Barring me spilling something, of course.) Inevitably, someone ended up in the drink. Most likely me, but not always!
I never felt as though I was missing out by staying here. Once we young ‘uns had all grown, we continued the tradition on our own. Every weekend, without fail, we would pile into whatever car or truck we had and head out to Coatue. A Hibachi and hot dogs still in tow, chips, dip and the like, but the food wasn’t the focus. It was squarely about all of us together, always, all winter.
Myself, Kurt, Timmy, Deb, Elaine, Raymond, Skip, and again, whomever was around. Oh, to go back and have a Staycation with them all again.
Myself, Kurt, Timmy, Deb, Elaine, Raymond, Skip, and again, whomever was around. Oh, to go back and have a Staycation with them all again.
If you feel that you’re the only family left on the rock, reach out. Start a new tradition, pack the blankets, sweatshirts and snacks and head on out. Find a spot to call your own, and start the memories. The thought of them now is almost as sweet as the time spent then.
Dig in and hunker down.
Dig in and hunker down.
– by Maryjane Mojer