For Mom and Deb

Since I spent so many hours on the phone with my mom and my sister Deb trying to remember details and write this paper, I promised them that I would post it so they could read the final paper. The assignment was to analyze a tradition. A BIG thank you to my own personal editor, Ken.

Just a Family Drive

One lazy summer afternoon, my husband and I were traveling with our children up a winding mountain road. After a difficult week we were on our way to a nearby mountain lake to enjoy an afternoon full of relaxation, and to also take advantage of having a small family picnic. As we headed to our destination, I pointed to several familiar sites along the way. During the course of our adventure to our mountain lake, my husband asked me how I knew about all of these places. I smiled at his question as my mind filled with memories from my childhood. I relished those thoughts as my mind rediscovered the joy of those past memories. Suddenly, I discovered that my love for family drives stemmed from a much deeper meaning than that of my passion for nature and the suspense of what was hidden beyond my view. Family drives had become a tradition that increased my love of nature and family, bridged the years between generations, and provided a way in which I could find joy in the simple things of life.

I grew up in a large family. My parents owned a small dairy, and a small acreage of farm land. The cows had to be milked and fed twice daily, and the land had to be watered and farmed. With a small dairy farm, and a large family there wasn’t a lot of money to go around. The option of hiring help wasn’t even thinkable, and therefore the daily tasks associated with a small farm were left to my parents. With a mother and father that were committed to the farm, we weren’t able to travel very much, and when we did our trips were never far from home. I always listened to my friends talk about their vacations, and dreamed of seeing the Grand Canyon or going to Disneyland. While the farming could occasionally be delayed for a few hours, my parents always had to complete the chore of the twice daily milking. I grew up knowing this was the price our family paid because of my parent’s choice of occupation, and knew that exotic vacations would simply never happen.

My parent made sure they always enlisted our help when it came to taking care of the family and completing the daily chores. We soon became experienced hands with regard to moving hand lines for irrigation, picking the rocks from the fields, hoeing the weeds from the crops, and feeding the animals. I remember grumbling a lot about these responsibilities. As a reward for completing our chores, my parents would occasionally take us on a picnic between chore times. This was a huge sacrifice for my parents as it meant they had to rise earlier than usual to get the milking done. They also had to get the car ready for the drive, and fix a lunch. Upon returning home from our drive, the car had to be cleaned out, the food put away, the younger kids bathed, and another milking still had to be completed before retiring for the evening. With the burdensome workload that my mother and father carried, we learned that these family outings were an event to be cherished.

On the morning of our big day, we would excitedly rush around doing such things as loading the big blue cooler with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches made with my mom’s homemade whole wheat bread. We packed ice water, and homemade chocolate chip cookies. As soon as my parents got in from morning chores and changed their clothing, we quickly loaded the car with our picnic, and headed for a new adventure. My parents owned a blue and white van that seated 12 passengers. Due to the size of our family, every seat was filled. The problem with our big van was that it had a small motor, which resulted in not having a lot of power. More often than not, and without warning, the van would start to smoke. It didn’t matter which direction we headed on our picnic for the van to start acting up. Whether we went on a desert outing, or to the mountains, the van always overheated. When the van acted up, Dad pulled over to the side of the road, and we would scramble out. While we waited for Dad to fix the car, Mom looked around for someplace where we could enjoy our picnic lunch.

We were always disappointed that we didn’t make it to our planned destination, but we enjoyed finding activities to pass the time. Through our exploring, we made several discoveries. Just off of a well traveled road, hidden from our view, we found a world full of life. My parents were supportive by letting us explore so long as we didn’t wander too far away. We chased butterflies, played in the creek, climbed big rocks, and forged our own trails. We also enjoyed collecting treasures like colored rocks, wildflowers, and Indian arrowheads. As our family bonded with each other on these outings my love for them increased. I realized that this time together with family also instilled a great love for the outdoors.

When the car had cooled to where we could drive again, we were tired from our activities, and chore time was quickly approaching. The drive home was usually quiet since we would fall asleep. When we arrived home we reluctantly helped Mom unload the car, and clean up. As we cleaned we listened to my mother express her frustration at the day’s events. Our outings were reminiscent of her time as a child when her father would take them on family outings. Her trips also ended in similar fashion as their vehicle would often overheat and land them on the side of the road. My mother told us that they would do similar things that we had done earlier as they would pass the time waiting for their car to cool down. As she told us about her childhood, and the experiences that she had been a part of, the years between us seemed to disappear.

From these experiences I quickly discovered that luxurious vacations where not required to have memorable experience, nor were they necessary to forge deep family bonds. As we took the time to simply eat our peanut butter sandwiches, while driving an unreliable family car; I learned about life. I learned that the values of parenting were more than just rewarding my children for doing their chores. The true lesson was finding joy in the simple things around me.

A long time has passed since my childhood days on the small dairy farm. Money is just as hard to come by now as it was then. I better understand the stress my parents went through as I try to raise my own children. It’s in those difficult moments when the stress builds in my own family that I fill my blue cooler with homemade sandwiches, water bottles, and chocolate chip cookies. Once loaded, we set out to see where the road will take us that day. I still travel many of the same roads that I once traveled as a child with my parents. As I look out the car window, I can’t help but wonder what lies beyond where I can see. Though our car does not overheat, we still manage to find a quiet place to eat our picnic lunch, and enjoy our time together. I love to be surrounded by the beauty and sounds of nature.

Occasionally, we stumble upon a place that is familiar to me. In these moments I remember a childhood trip ending here. I smell the memory of an overheated car and reminisce. It’s in these moments that I know our real adventure for the day has just begun as I hear my own children’s squeals of delight. I watch them explore their new surroundings, and wonder if this tradition will continue for another generation. Through a tradition as simple as a family drive, I share my love of nature with my children and strengthen my own family bonds with them. As I share stories from my childhood, and from my mother’s childhood, the generations seem bridged, and my life feels complete.