The Mobile Unit “Is It True?” Series Episode Fifteen
“You get things done one step at a time”
I do not know how in the world my parents did it. They must have been crazy, seriously. They would pack a few suitcases, a cooler, us 5 kids, and a poodle and drive from Chicago to Oregon every summer. All of this was accomplished, in “The Wagon”. It was burgundy with that faux paneling stuff. It was only christened as “The Wagon” years later when as teenagers we used to pile in it, and drive around. At that time, it was the only family transport vehicle. We would take turns sleeping in the back. You always went back there with whoever you weren’t about ready to take a bite out of….for real. My sister did bite me in the back one year. However, I wasn’t a saint either, none of us were. In fact, I remember shutting the door on my sister’s finger due to a minor discrepancy over ownership of a chocolate chip cookie. It was a “free for all”….mayhem.
We traveled cross country like this to visit my grandparents. The Corvallis area was our home base. We would always take a trip or two to the coast from there. We all LOVED the coast with its rocky shores, salty air, and chowder. It was quite an adventure. My dad drove the entire way out there. He would then fly back to Chicago, work, and fly back to Oregon to drive us home. This was the extent of his vacation. He worked all the time. Quite honestly, it was the most I saw of him all year. These trips were pretty special…..no matter how crazy they might seem to an outsider.
We would stop along the way, of course. I loved the feeling of pulling into a motel late at night, never knowing what to expect there. We had snacks, ran the halls, and climbed into a bed with fresh sheets. No matter what the condition, it was better than the backseat. I remember having breakfast in Lincoln, Nebraska and the waitress spilled an entire tray of food on us…..cereal and all. I remember we often stayed at our friend’s cabin in Colorado Springs. One year, my Dad and Mr. Spade killed a rattlesnake right outside the door. I got a bunch of splinters in my butt from running and sliding on the porch. I remember drinking water from a faucet at the side of the road. It came right out of the side of a mountain. We stayed in a “scary area” in Cheyenne, Wyoming. I don’t know why it was scary, but I know my mom was mad and we couldn’t run wild. I did get a turquoise ring from some guy selling jewelry there. I still have it. Every time we would drive through the mountains, I would hear my mom say, “Bob, slow down, Bob, slow down!” When we were older, we would say, “pick a lane, Dad, pick a lane!” He always drove like he was the only one on the road, even in the presence of a log truck. I used to hold my breath when we passed one of those log trucks. One year, I wore a red hat the entire time, from the day we left until the day we got home. I thought it was fabulous.
If my parents thought about the trips in any kind of detail, we never would have gotten out of the driveway. I am sure the idea would have seemed impossible, even having done it multiple times. And actually, the less they knew the better. The only way to do a trip like that is to prepare the best you can, use the information you’ve learned, and do it….one mile at a time. I didn’t realize back then what an amazing feat it was to do this year after year. I sent them a postcard today…thanking them for all the laughs, the fights, the mishaps, and the miracles.
I know the first step is by far the most challenging, for me anyway. It ALWAYS gets easier…..to either move forward further or let go more. Easier doesn’t always mean I continue….having taken the first step, I may even let go. I can see my truth more clearly. I step out into the clearing. It can be so foggy back there…with all the “chatter” telling me, “I can’t do a thing” I see my truth more clearly having had the courage to begin. I trust the process. I Honor My Truth!
How true, The first step is always the most challenging. I think most of us should know that by now, but yet we seem to make taking that first step a lot harder than it has to be.
If your parents would have thought the first step to be too difficult and didn't take action, you may never have spent any time with your Grandparents!
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