Family Stories - The Week Between Christmas and New Years

Family Stories

The Week Between Christmas and New Years

   After the death of my Grandfather Vincent, my mom's family didn't get together for Christmas any more.  While not getting together with family was sad, it did give my parents an opportunity to do something different.  Taking a vacation while owning a small town business was hard.  It had to be a time when I wasn't in school, and a time when they didn't have large printing orders due.  For some reason, the week between Christmas and New Years was slow for us.  That combined with the fact that the shop was usually closed for a few days to visit family meant that we already had many of our customers trained to not expect us to be open then.  So we decided to take a road trip that week.

   We actually did this road trip for several years.  Sometimes it was just a week.  Sometimes, depending on what day Christmas fell on we could take a few extra days.  Often there was no predetermined route.  My dad was the only driver at the time (he didn't want my mom to drive and I wasn't old enough yet).  He set the rules for the trip.  Short daily driving legs.  He also didn't want to drive in snow or bad weather.  Reasonable.  So mostly we headed east or south from our home in Los Angeles county.  Sometimes we ended up in Phoenix, AZ (though not much further east).  Sometimes in Yuma, AZ where we had friends.  But somehow we always ended up in San Diego.

   San Diego had memories for my dad.  That was where he got out of the navy after WWII.  I remember us driving by the base and him pointing out the gate he had used to freedom.

   One time we were charmed by a resort in Mission Bay and stayed there a few days.  Vacation Village is no more, but I still fondly remember the time we spend there.  But mostly we stayed on Shelter Island.  Back then, Shelter Island was a long strip of land with a boat harbor on the north side and Mission Bay on the other (with a few of Coronado Island).  In the middle was a string of slightly upscale motels, within our modest budget.  Now the motels have been replaced with high end hotels.  I barely recognized the place when I drove by there a few months ago.

   I loved it there.  Dad and I would walk across the street to a small fishing pier where he taught me how to fish.  I caught my first fish there.  Fishing was something my dad always loved to do, even up to his death.  Just down the block was a small park with a large bell from their sister city.  I was allowed to walk there by myself.  Lots of time to dream.  My parents and I would explore the area too.

   This vacation time was amazing for me.  Due to Christmas I always had new books and I had the freedom to read them.  There was time for adventures with my parents.  I think their love of travel and adventure was what instilled that in me.

   I was thinking of one year's vacation.  I was probably 10 at the time.  This trip started differently.  We drove all the way to Phoenix, AZ in one day, which was a long drive for us at the time.  Remember, this was before modern freeways and highways.  We caravaned with Van and Candy Johnson, who were related to my parent's friend, Frank.  The Johnsons were a young couple, just out from Illinois and this trip I got to ride part of the way in their new Mustang.  Pretty car, but ours was more comfortable for that long drive.

   After we got to Phoenix we drove to the airport to pick up Frank, and then we parted company.  We drove down to Tucson and then Tombstone.  We all enjoyed Tombstone.  My dad took some good photos and we met some interesting characters there.  That night, after I was asleep my parents went back to the bar and apparently had quite a night.

   The next morning we headed south, my parents nursing hangovers.  We saw a sign advertising a place called Colossal Caverns.  My dad said, "Why not?"  It was probably about 5 miles down that road, all up and down.  Despite how he was feeling, dad drove that road for maximum enjoyment for me.  Rather like a roller coaster.

   The Caverns had an underground tour, which we took.  Once we reached the furthest point down the guide turned off the lights to disorient us.  It was really, really dark.  Then he asked us what direction north was.  Somehow I knew.  That was the first time that I realized that I have a natural sense of north.  Magnetic north, actually.  I have to adjust for true north.

   From the Caverns we drove down to Yuma, where we spent the night and visited with friends.  Then on to San Diego for a few days before going home and back to school and work.