Vacations provide families with fond memories, photo album pictures, and souvenirs. My friends' parents would take them skiing at resorts in Colorado, or swimming along the sandy beaches of Florida, or even sight seeing across Europe. Their vacations always involved powdery snow in the mountains, or palm trees and hammocks by the ocean, or world famous museums and landmarks. My vacations were just as thrilling since my parents took me to a relative's house where I didn't have to do gardening chores for an entire week.My parents did not believe in hotels. Ever. Which is why our vacations always involved a close relative. Or a distant relative. Or close friend of the family. Or a not-so-close friend of the family. Or friend of a friend of the family.
Since hotels were out of the question, instead of stopping to rest along the way, my parents would drive 30 hours straight across the United States until they reached our destination. One parent slept while the other drove. Every four to six hours they would trade off. In this manner we left Iowa to drive across Nebraska, then Wyoming, then Utah, then Nevada...
In order to pass the monotonous stretch, my sisters and I sat in the back of the station wagon singing songs. After countless hours of singing every song we knew numerous times, we would eventually make up songs. One such original ditty went as follows (complete with actions):
Oh, I'm broken up to here, (put your hand on your forehead)
I fell apart last year, (droop your head and shoulders)
I'm so mad, (look angry)
The people are so glad, (smile broadly)
'cause I'm broken up to here, (put your hand on your forehead)
I fell apart last year, (droop your head and shoulders)
I'm so mad, (look angry)
The people are so glad, (smile broadly)
'cause I'm broken up to here... (put your hand on your forehead)
And so it continued. For eternity. Or at least until we reached Grandma and Grandpa's house in California.
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