Making Memories

My parents never had a lot of money growing up. We always lived paycheck to paycheck, but the bills always got paid and we always had yummy food on the table. Dad was - and still is - a school teacher and bus driver, and during the summers he did all sorts of odd carpentry jobs so that Mom could stay home with the three of us kids.

Anyway, because we never had a lot of money, our vacations always looked a little - shall we say - different than the rest of my friends. While many of my playmates went to Disney World during their long Memorial Day Week-ends and summer vacations....I tell you what - WE were making the rockin'est memories off all time and were establishing traditions that to this day, the three of us kids talk about.

And I would have it NO other way. I have NEVER wished for Disney. I will always want to relive the memories that my family made.

We didn't spend money on hotels - in fact, I can only remember staying in a hotel once when I was a kid. Instead, we went on adventures. One family tradition involved canoeing down the East Branch river every year - rain or shine - and hanging on for dear life while we flew down the rapids. For lunch, we'd stop along the riverbank and cook up a hotdog - sometimes we'd take a little dip - and then we'd continue on our merry way.

Dad gave each of us kids a 5-gallon dill pickle bucket that we could fill with whatever we needed for those few days, and these also doubled as our canoe seats. The kicker was that whatever clothes we put in said buckets would reek to high Heavens of dill pickles, so we all had a certain odor about us for that whole trip.

And if it rained - the trip was never cancelled. Dad would just give us each a "Hefty" trash bag - with holes cut out for our heads and arms, and we were good to go. He wasn't much for fussiness.

We would pitch our tents at days' end in some gravel pit, dig a hole whenever we needed to use the bathroom, and the river was our shower. I can remember one weekend while sleeping in a little pup tent with my cousin, being awakened in the middle of the night with a certain "floating sensation." There was a good foot of water in our tent, and we were completely drenched. Mom had mercy on us and stripped us down, bundled us in our winter jackets, and let us sleep the rest of the night in our car with the heater on.

Anyway, as we plan a tenting excursion for our boys this weekend to celebrate their birthdays, I am reminded of these memories that will be forever embeded in my brain. It's not really the super sunny, non-eventful trips that I remember. It's the ones that always carried a little dramatic flair to them. Those are the ones worth reminiscing about.

And that is my hope for my boys as we embark on a four day, three night camping adventure in which it predicts rain for every, single, blasted day that we will be gone. May my boys cherish these memories as I have done....at least they won't smell like dill pickles all week.