Childhood vacations were few and far between at our house. I think it was a money thing plus my parents really didn’t enjoy being together by the time I was a kid…they had me last, the 4th of 4. My dad never ever talked poorly of my mom, but he did say she wasn’t playful and didn’t have a good sense of humor, so I suppose a trip including her was unlikely. Anytime we did go away it was my brother Tom and I, and my dad, and we were only ever gone a few days. I assume my other siblings didn’t go because they were older and busy or not living at home anymore. Our vacations with my dad consisted mostly of “business trips” where he took us with him to somewhere he needed to be for work. We would spend a couple hours or so in the car, driving to a variety of more or less regional destinations. We went to small Pennsylvania towns like Nanty-Glo or St. Mary’s PA. Sometimes we went to Ohio, but always little places that weren’t known for anything in particular, nor were they vacation spots. He sold “life insurance” and I have no idea why this work required visits to such places. There was a lot about my dad that was maybe sketchy, so God-only-knows what was really going on. There was never much warning or planning either, just a big old “let’s go kids” and off we went, our clothing and swimsuits thrown in the trunk, maybe in a paper bag. We typically had a real blast though. We would always stay in a motel that had an inground pool, which was usually in the middle of the parking lot. My dad would leave and come back at odd intervals which was his typical work schedule, even when we were at home. One time he came back to the motel and took us to a small airport where we went for an airplane ride. It was a crop duster, no lie. Neither of us had ever been in an airplane and that was a very cool experience. In the 1970s I guess it was ok to leave your children in a motel unsupervised all day. Tom and I would swim and watch TV and I don’t ever remember being afraid. My dad would leave us some money so we could walk to a nearby McDonalds or White Castle, which all seemed normal to us, even though we were probably only 8 or 9 years old. For dinner though, my dad would take us to a bar-restaurant of some kind. He was big on “manners” in such places, so we were all very polite together. On the way to or from our destinations, we always found a river or a lake to swim in; and other of points of interest too, if there were any. We would visit historic industrial things, like an old coal mine, or we would walk across an old railroad bridge over a remote river he knew of, so we could get a good look at the hills and the foliage. Or sometimes we would visit the birthplace of somebody famous, like a president or a ball player and one time, Jimmy Stewart, who was born in Indiana PA. I was always surprised by what we would find to do. Those little trips to little towns gave us a bit of a break from our normal routines. Although not a vacation by regular standards, we felt lucky to go anywhere really. And I must emphasize that anything involving my dad was usually a lot of fun for Tom and I. He had a way about him that could muster up happiness at a moments notice.
