LAST Words
ANN OWENS IS A WRITER, CREATIVE GENIUS, ENTREPRENEUR, MOTHER, AND
WIFE WHO ENJOYS PONDERING WHAT MAKES THE WORLD CLICK.
It’s time for a vacation
The packing, planning and checklists are overwhelming, but time together is worth it all.
It is summertime, and family
vacation season is upon us. All that has
me reminiscing about 24 years of road
trips and adventures. It was never easy,
but it was always worth it.
I think you moms can relate when
I say it was my duty to make sure
three girls plus myself were packed
and ready to go. The dogs, plants, and
mail were taken care of; sandwiches,
snacks and coolers were packed; and all
the bills were paid. Blinds were pulled,
refrigerator cleaned out, garbage taken
off, air turned up…check, check, check.
Every time we went anywhere, I had
a checklist a mile long. We used to do
so much to get ready for a trip that my
kids still joke that “we can’t go until we
pressure wash the house!” So true.
Before we could get on the road, Karl
would check behind me on everything.
He would get a cold drink, a
map, sunglasses, hat, GPS,
Grateful Dead CDs, and a can
of dip. He would leave the
house, get things out of his
truck, go back in the house,
come back out and finally
get in the car. Once in the
car, a checklist was called
off, and he would say, “If we
don’t have it, we don’t need
it.” The first 15 minutes on
the road were spent getting
everything set perfectly in
the car; the address was keyed into the
GPS while I cleaned his sunglasses, his
seat was adjusted for maximum comfort,
rear view mirrors set, air vents pointed
at just the right angles, and the soap and
windshield wipers were tested which was
quickly followed by some sort of mumble
about forgetting to put in the Rain-X and
how we should have replaced the wipers.
The funny thing is, it doesn’t matter
how much you prepare because the
unexpected will happen anyway. We
have come home to missing pets, a dead
mouse that stunk up the whole house, a
faucet that had been dripping for a week,
and an entire closet shelving system that
collapsed. You can’t plan for everything,
but God knows we tried.
While most of our trips were
road trips my very generous sister
occasionally took us somewhere on an
airplane and that was always interesting.
Our air travel adventures included:
1) not having the correct form of
identification which resulted in having
my birth certificate overnight mailed
from Texas and missing an entire day
in Puerto Rico; 2) my husband quite
seriously being considered a possible
terrorist right after 9/11 and being pulled
out of line by security three times before
we could get on the plane; and 3) the
time we traveled with friends and again
he was pulled aside by security, and
again his luggage searched. This time
they found some sexy lingerie in his bag
that wasn’t his…I mean, mine. Turns out
he had mistakenly grabbed the suitcase
of our friend who was traveling with us.
We almost got arrested one summer
for shooting fireworks off the beach, and
once my sister and I were held captive in
a St. Simons kitchen by a wharf rat the
size of a small dog. I had no idea that
either of us could jump straight up onto a
counter, but it happened.
During a trip to St. Augustine when
the girls were pretty young, we drug a
plethora of coolers, umbrellas, beach
toys, chairs, blankets, bags, and fishing
equipment down to the beach. My
brother-in-law got stabbed by a fish and
Karl ended up having to take him to the
hospital leaving me and the girls alone
on the beach. Almost on cue, it began
to get cloudy and started to thunder
and lightning. I strapped umbrellas and
toys onto the children’s backs, tethered
bags around their ankles and wrists, and
I drug the coolers, chairs, and fishing
equipment hurriedly off the beach. The
children cried and wailed as their feet
were hot and their burdens were heavy,
but I kept them motivated by screaming
“KEEP MOVING OR YOU’RE GOING
TO GET STRUCK BY LIGHTNING AND
DIE!” Sweet words of encouragement,
and the perfect way to keep the fear level
down to a minimum, don’t you think?
On a mountain trip, my sister and
her family drove down from Illinois to
meet us. As we were ending our trip,
we followed them down the mountain
and there, pressed against the back
window of their conversion van, an
economy sized package of extra-large,
super absorbent feminine hygiene
products. Huge package. Big, big, huge,
brightly colored package with lots of
descriptive words pressed against one
half of the entire back window. This was
before we had a phone in our car, so
we had nothing to do but laugh and feel
incredibly sorry for them because they
traveled hundreds of miles like that.
Of course, we’ve made our share of
trips to Florida. On our very
first trip to Universal Studios, we
stood in line in the blazing heat
for 1.5 hours for a ride. Five
minutes away from getting on,
my nephew looks at me and says
“Annie, I have to go potty really
bad.” I have no recollection of
why I stepped out of line and
my brother did not, but I think
I should still be mad about this.
Anyway, an employee pointed us
to the closest bathroom and we
took off running. On the way to
the bathroom, the poor kid, who already
feels terrible about missing the ride, slips
on “people poop” (his words) left on
the ground from a diaper and I have to
carry him the rest of the way because the
resulting meltdown was as big and nasty
as the people poop itself.
Fabulous memories, all of them. I
hope we continue to do family vacations
for many years to come although they
are certainly beginning to look different
as my little girls have been replaced with
young women who have college, job, and
husband responsibilities of their own.
Sometimes I think it will be so nice when
they start to pay for their own travel
expenses and we will be able to simply
walk out of the house, get in the car, and
enjoy an easy and cheap adventure. Ha,
who am I kidding? That doesn’t sound
anywhere near as fun.
144 Toombs County Magazine