Every summer we would travel from wherever we were to my Mom's parent's farm in the Ozarks. My Dad was in the military and a part of the team that set up the first intra-net for the U.S. military. Because of this, we lived in almost every state in the U.S. and a few other countries.
My Dad would always make a big deal of the actual trip, though the destination was pretty awesome too.
He would spend a month or so before the trip mapping out our route and marking all the tourist stops we were going to make along the way. He was determined that we were going to see every beautiful and majestic sight that we could possibly fit in. There were also all the cool camping spots that we could hit each evening. And, let's not forget to mention the few side trips to see the truly weird stuff, like a two-inch tall deer, and the world's largest ball of twine.
On this one particular trip, we were going to be camping in The Grand Canyon. My dad found a really pretty spot for us to set up our tents. There was even a picnic table very near.
So we set up our tents, with a lot of help from Dad. Sometimes during the tent raising process, it seemed like just maybe we weren't really helping. But then Dad would desperately need our help to hold certain parts in place while he wrestled with other parts.
My brother was four years younger than me and quite helpless. He mostly just hung around and kicked me or pulled on my ponytail when my dad wasn't looking.
My brother and I helped Mom spread a tablecloth on the wooden picnic table. Then Dad carried all four coolers over near the table so that my Mom could prepare sandwiches and chips for us.
It took so many coolers because when Mom loaded the coolers with drinks for the road, it included a few gallon jugs of cool-aid and just a few glass bottles of soda for her and Dad. People didn't always have a drink in their hands back then. There were no drink holders in the cars. And, Mom wouldn't think of having us kids eat or drink in Dad's car anyway!
My brother and I thought we were 'high-tech' because we got 'Etch-er-Sketches'. They were these devices with gray screens that would be covered on the underside with magnetic sand. When you would shake them, the underside of the screen would cover over with the sand and you could not see through it. There were two knobs that you turned to maneuver arms underneath that would erase the sand with a thick pencil-like tip. You could make pictures or, you could spend hours erasing the whole window so that you could see the workings inside. We did the latter. Repeatedly. While riding in the back seat of my Dad's car.
We also sang songs and counted things. Things like telephone poles when we were in town, and big trucks when we were between towns. We watched the scenery roll by. I saw people mowing their lawns, and peered out over the tops of wall-to-wall multi-colored trees rolling over hilltops below us.
But, The Grand Canyon! Now that was a big sight to see. It looked like the earth cracked wide open and life just started growing there. Right down the sides, trees sprouted grew strong and were holding on precariously to the wall. Trails led down the side that was so narrow that I was sure the donkeys were not going to make it as we had descended earlier in the day. It was both terrifying and beautiful all at the same time.
My Dad narrated all the way down about how the canyon was formed and how safe this was because these donkeys had done this so many times that they could do it blindfolded. I hoped no one would blindfold my donkey as I peered down into the canyon below us and wondered how many days this was going to take.
I remember wondering if there would be a camping ledge somewhere along the narrow path. But there wasn't. It took us about half a day to get down. We looked around a little and then it was time to go back up.
Whew! My butt was sore after all that donkey riding!
And now we had the tents set up, and dinner on the table.
Our tents were nested in amongst these beautiful pine trees. The scent permeated the air with this amazing freshness.
We looked at the beautiful trees while we ate and talked about what we had seen and done that day. My Dad had a teacher's spirit, so he liked to review everything with us to make sure we had learned from the experience. It was my favorite part of the day. I loved listening to my father talk. He knew so much! And there was so much I wanted to learn!
When we were finished with dinner. My Dad suggested that my brother and I make a game of who can find the biggest pine cone.
My brother and I combed the campsite gathering two piles of pine cones for my Mom and Dad to examine and judge.
My Dad picked the two biggest ones and set them aside for souvenirs. He then picked a couple to play catch with my brother and I. (I have always had depth perception problems and this is one of my early examples.)
He tossed one to my brother who caught it and was tossing it back to my Dad as he tossed one in my direction.
I saw it coming and reached out to catch it. I watched it sail right into the circle formed by my outstretched arms. It made this perfect arc that took it right down the front of my legs to land at my feet and then bounce off.
The problem was that it left a spurting trail of blood as it skimmed my shin on the way down, taking off a layer of skin and leaving about a quarter-inch deep gash down the middle of the scrape.
My Dad was so upset that he cried. I remember that my Dad was not afraid to show us his tears.
Not that he cried all the time or anything. But when something happened that upset him enough, he cried.
Real men cry sometimes.
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