The Shriners are recruiting.

But we'll get to that. It's time for the Vacation Recap. Settle in - this could be a long one.

We left Pittsburgh last Friday after enjoying a light dinner prepared by Jenn. Teary goodbyes, etc. etc., then we were on the road. The drive to Kingston, NY from Pittsburgh was about 7 hours and we decided to tackle it all that night, since Mom wasn't feeling the slightest bit tired, which put us in at 4 AM. Mom and Jim and I talked for a good bit of the ride up - really good and talked, which Mom and I haven't done in quite some time. I was also very proud to discover that Jim had acquired all 5 Spock's Beard studio albums, and we proceeded to rock out.

Saturday was Visit the Relatives day in Kingston. We had a big cookout at my dad's Uncle Chris's house, uniting long-separated warring factions of the family, as usual.

Uncle Chris is a writer - he has a novel, now out of print. On top of one of the stacks of books on the porch, I noticed, to my surprise, American Gods by Neil Gaiman. A strange coincidence, as I'm currently plowing through the "Sandman" series. And wait a second, I thought - Uncle Chris can't possibly be that cool. After all, Donovan has raved about this book.

Sure enough, Uncle Chris was more than glad to give the book to Ben when he found out he was a religion major - which means he missed the point entirely - with something to the effect of, "Sure, it was pretty good, but that guy must have been on the LSD or something when he wrote it." Yep, Uncle Chris is a square, and everything's right with the world.

Sunday we drove down to Scarsdale to visit Dad's old college roommate, whose family used to vacation with us every year. We hadn't seen these people in several years, meaning their two girls had grown up from 14 and 12 to 17 and 15. This, needless to say, was a bit of a shock, since girls look much different at the ages of 12 and 15. When Joanna walked up to me at nose level, I was tempted to yell at her, "You're not that tall! You're like a foot shorter than that!"

And Mr. Scott, true to form, kept us kids on our feet the whole time. He's a very funny guy - the kind of guy who is constantly looking for an opportunity to make a joke, and a master of comic reincorporation. He also loves to make fun of kids, and he hadn't forgotten any of the stuff he's made fun of us about for 18 years.

On Monday we went out on their boat, only to turn around and come back in at the sight of ominous storm clouds. And then it was off to Wildwood.

Wildwood, NJ is a nice beach town, about 8 blocks wide by 8 miles long, and we've been going there every year since I was 3. Because of our stops in New York, this year's week was shorter than most years'. Tuesday we did the beach and the boardwalk, Wednesday the beach and Cape May (a nearby shopping town), and Thursday waterslides and the boardwalk.

Every year there's a new fad at Wildwood. Last year it was those stupid scooters, the year before that it was Pok�mon, and so on. This year, they had these ridiculous miniature bicycles, maybe two feet tall, that were being ridden around everywhere by non-miniature kids. Said kids looked exceedingly stupid, hunched over with their knees coming up above their shoulders. It was impossible not to picture them wearing little fezzes and riding miniature cars around sixty years down the line.

Being a beach town, Wildwood remains fairly constant from year to year, but at the same time, things are always changing - new businesses popping up, or old ones dying off, buildings being repainted, what have you.

Now, my family has a strange susceptibility to tradition. (Not just my immediate family, either - my cousin Tom has it worse than any of us. Must be on the Y chromosome.) We do anything the same way twice in a row, and we're likely to be doing it that way compulsively until the day we die. By way of example, Ben and I have a "tradition" (3 years running now) of beating the "Jurrasic Park: the Lost World" game at Duffer's Challenge mini-golf in Wildwood.

Anyway, this tendency has the effect of amplifying the inescapable change of Wildwood - when you're used to doing the exact same thing every year, you notice when something little changes. This year was no exception. We were eating our first night's dinner at the Olympic Flame - a nice grill joint owned by friendly Greeks who have gotten to know us so well that they talk to us like old friends when we arrive and insist on giving us discounts on our food, and practically the only place Dad will allow us to eat dinner in Wildwood. (If you've ever eaten at the Olympic Flame, sign my guestbook! It is a small world, after all.) A few years ago, one of the owner's sons and his wife split off and founded the Olympic Flame II further down the boardwalk. So while we're eating dinner, Dad tells us that they've sold the Olympic Flame II, and Panagioti is going off to become a priest. Weird, huh?

But despite all the changes, Wildwood still feels so familiar to me after so many years. It's almost like a second home. (Well, maybe fourth or something. I've got a lot of homes.)

Friday we drove back to Baltimore. I got my driver's license renewed, and then Ben and I went to visit our friend Melissa in the hospital, recovering from her fourth brain surgery. Mel is an amazing girl. Despite all of her health problems, she's always incredibly cheery and full of life. She'll tell you that it hurts to move her head, and the fluid around her brain is swelling so that if they don't put her on steroids she'll die, and then five minutes later she'll be talking about your family. ("Is that the grandfather I met? The cute one, who kept taking all those pictures?")

I found out from Mel that the mutual friend who introduced us, also the first girl I ever fell in love with, whom I haven't seen in over a year, was raped this past December by a friend-of-a-friend walking her home from a party.

I was very upset by this. I felt an overwhelming urge to kick this guy so hard in the balls that they came shooting out his mouth.

But I didn't feel quite like I would have felt three years ago. When Mel told me that the girl was doing well and had been recovering with the help of her (Mel's) brother, I felt relieved. Three years ago, I would have been upset that I couldn't have been involved in helping her recover, that I wasn't there for her. But she, like all my other high school friends, has pretty much dropped off my radar - lost contact by a joint lack of effort from the both of us - and when I heard about what happened from Mel, it was like I was hearing about something that happened to a stranger, someone I had met in passing. I felt outrage, but not as much as I should have.

Friday night was a blissful dinner at Grandmom's (is there any other kind?) and the traditional (aha!) drinking of the Turkish apple tea at home with Mom, Ben, and Jim. In the morning, the siblings woke up just to say goodbye, and then it was back to Grandmom's for breakfast before I caught a ride with Aunt Bette and her kids to Pittsburgh (on their way to Cleveland). In Aunt Bette's tape collection I spotted a Best of Jethro Tull tape, nearly doubling her already formidable Coolness Factor, and rocking out ensued.

And now I'm getting back into my routine, just in time for it to change as the summer ends and school begins once more.

This was a great vacation.

The soundtrack for this week's vacation, for those interested:

• Spock's Beard - The Light
• Spock's Beard - Beware of Darkness
• Live - The Distance to Here
• Spock's Beard - The Kindness of Strangers
• Something by Ani DiFranco that I slept through
• Queensr�che - Empire
• Live - Mental Jewelry
• Maceo Parker - Dial M-A-C-E-O
• Live - Throwing Copper
• Savatage - Dead Winter Dead
• Toto - Toto IV
• Jethro Tull - M.U. The Best of Jethro Tull

  ---

  < previous | random | next >