Travelin' Light
We are headed out of town this weekend and I have been suggesting to my kids to think about what they want to take with us - books, toys, DVDs. I told Bob that we need to make sure that their "laptops" have batteries so that they can play with them during the drive down and back. Then it hit me. When I was little, I traveled light. Maybe a book or two, but that was it. Trips to the beach seemed to take forever. Except one time when my friend Amy and I loaded up the back of our old-school van with every Barbie known to man and played, on the floor of the van, the entire trip down. Best ride ever.
Every other weekend, when I was in elementary school, my mother and I would make the 45-minute drive to my grandmother's in Union Springs. If I didn't have a book to read, I would look out the window - at pastures. Thrilling. If a friend went with me, we would play cow poker. An exciting game where you count the cows you see on "your side" and the one with the most cows upon arriving at your destination, wins. Pass a lone chimney, you lose half your cows to fire; pass a cemetery, they all die. Problem was, the cattle farmers kept the cows on one side of 110. "Calling" the correct side to sit on in the car was a critical strategic move.
I have the section of 110 from Montgomery to Union Springs memorized. The ranch-style house with the pond (where Wynlakes is now) meant we were out of the city and on our way. Hall's store was Mathews and the curve in the road that lead toward the old church; that part of the highway is now straight. Fitzpatrick, Mitchell Station, the airstrip with three or four crop-dusters waiting to go to work, a grave marker in front of a field marking the day King Cotton died. Finally, 110 and 82 would meet up at the old Ballerina night club. Mama would tell me that she got caught senaking over there with some friends in high school. We'd head through town, past the bird dog statue and the Crispy Chik. Past an old boarding house where a widow began taking in boarders when my mother was young. Turn at the railroad tracks, peer over the over grown bridge to catch a glimpse of the waterfall, and out to my grandmother's on Peachburg Road. I saw everything and can see it now, plain as day.
I think this trip I'll put the kids' games away. We'll be travelin' light.
Every other weekend, when I was in elementary school, my mother and I would make the 45-minute drive to my grandmother's in Union Springs. If I didn't have a book to read, I would look out the window - at pastures. Thrilling. If a friend went with me, we would play cow poker. An exciting game where you count the cows you see on "your side" and the one with the most cows upon arriving at your destination, wins. Pass a lone chimney, you lose half your cows to fire; pass a cemetery, they all die. Problem was, the cattle farmers kept the cows on one side of 110. "Calling" the correct side to sit on in the car was a critical strategic move.
I have the section of 110 from Montgomery to Union Springs memorized. The ranch-style house with the pond (where Wynlakes is now) meant we were out of the city and on our way. Hall's store was Mathews and the curve in the road that lead toward the old church; that part of the highway is now straight. Fitzpatrick, Mitchell Station, the airstrip with three or four crop-dusters waiting to go to work, a grave marker in front of a field marking the day King Cotton died. Finally, 110 and 82 would meet up at the old Ballerina night club. Mama would tell me that she got caught senaking over there with some friends in high school. We'd head through town, past the bird dog statue and the Crispy Chik. Past an old boarding house where a widow began taking in boarders when my mother was young. Turn at the railroad tracks, peer over the over grown bridge to catch a glimpse of the waterfall, and out to my grandmother's on Peachburg Road. I saw everything and can see it now, plain as day.
I think this trip I'll put the kids' games away. We'll be travelin' light.
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