I’m taking a little vacation from writing today. Since I’ve been feeling a little stale at the keyboard. Dried up, is perhaps the better term.
As such, it brought to mind my childhood memories of vacations. They are a bit of a mystery to me, as I reflect on them. I’ve mentioned in many posts prior to this, that we used to go to a Catholic camp in Kentucky. Camp Marydale. As memories go, I don’t have very many from that place. I think the family quit going by the time I was about 6 or 7.
But here is the mystery of the thing. Neither my Mom, nor my Dad, were the “Outdoorsy Types.” In fact, my father, who did a gruesome tour in Europe during WWII, was know to say years after, “I’d rather do anything than camp out. Give me my nice warm bed.” I am sure the war left its mark on him, in more ways than one.
So Marydale must have been dirt cheap, which makes sense, because there were a lot of dirt floors. I didn’t much care for the place, as I recall. However, the priests there had a couple of large St. Bernards. I suppose they were keeping in line with the whole Catholic-Saint thing with Saint Dogs. But those pooches were called alcohol names I think. Like Rum and Bourbon, maybe. Regardless, I liked those dogs and would spend as much time as I could with them, whenever they were around.
But those “campy” vacations continued through my childhood. I don’t get it. We didn’t go away very often, maybe every couple of years. But it would be to places like State Parks. Natural Bridge State Park. Butler State Park. We’d stay in a lodge, so it wasn’t like we were sleeping on the ground. But Mom and Dad weren’t hikers, or outdoorsmen. At all. Again, there must have been some sort of BOGO deal, back when they used to be called, Buy One, Get One Free. Bogof. I think my Dad would have preferred a quiet, comfortable chair somewhere with a crossword puzzle. And my Mom, who knows? As long as the food was good, I think she was all in. (I’d love to know what my older siblings think of all of this. Ann. Sue. Ed. Jerry. Jane. Julie.)
If they had left it up to little me, I’m sure I would have much rather gone to a big city, and explored the museums, or taken in a show. You know, a nice hotel, with a killer restaurant. But, that was likely beyond our budget, especially with multiple kids.
The first vacation I can remember “liking” was as an adult. I took a trip to Seattle in 1987 with Mary. I was very nervous, but it was incredibly amazing, to be in the midst of such a new place, exploring.
These days, my exploring antennae are on the blink, it seems. And that’s okay with me for now.
So, as you can see, I’m on vacation for today, from writing Polly Goggles. I hope your day is filled with some nice, little, happy place of rest and relaxation.
Oh. Which reminds me. We used to live and explore in Charleston, SC, where there were lots and lots of pirates. And.
Do you know why the pirate went on vacation? He needed some AARRRRGGH and AARRRRGGH!
==========
“Rest and be thankful.”
― William Wordsworth
============
“Everything needs a break.”
― Toba Beta
===========
“Just because you take breaks doesn’t mean you’re broken.”
― Curtis Tyrone Jones
===========
