Vacation Dreams

Our house was always pretty exciting. With 4 young kids ages 10 and under, things never were quiet, dull or without a little drama. Mom and dad were still pretty young by modern standards. By the time Kammy was 10 they would have been only 28 years old apiece. Dad worked a couple of jobs most of the time and mom was busy keeping the house. They were both in search of the american dream. The hard work seemed to payoff because we finally seemed to have some financial stability. It seemed to put periodic strain on how mom and dad got along. That was all put aside when, in 1972 they annouced that we were going on vacation. The plan was a road trip. We would take off the last 2 weeks of school. Dad had earned some vacation. We would leave the homestead on 23rd street and head west. We had family in California and I think in Arizona. This would be the adventure of a lifetime. Dad had bought a mini-motorhome for the trip. According to dad it had a bathroom where you could "shit, shower and shave" as we drove across the country on vacation. We had moved up in the world. For the first time we were part of the haves instead of the have nots. There was a top bunk that fit the kids and there was a kitchen table that let down into a bed. We were high rolling.

Sometime near Christmas break we Dad, Mom, Kammy, Jeff, Kevin, Jesse and the dog hit the road. My memories of the trip are sporadic at best. I remember that we played games and mingled all the way across the country. We would stop at a rest area or store and someone would walk the dog give him food and water and we would all stretch our legs. We stopped at one point in Phoenix to visit folks. Dad decided he wanted to go up Flaggstaff mountain. This was the strangest site I had ever seen. The weather at the base of the mountain was dry and hot. As we moved up the mountain the weather changed drastically. About 3/4 of the way up the mountain the police stopped us. It turns out you could not continue up the mountain without snow chains. No one thought to pack those considering our southern route. I could tell dad wasn't happy by the way he was barking at mom. There was someone selling them on the side of the road and from dad's tone I thought he might beat someone to death with them. We made it to the top and then back down again. The only other thing I remember about Phoenix was that we had some authentic mexican food, of course this was long before it was popularized across the country. We also meandered through San Antonio and saw the Alamo and the riverwalk area. The whole vacation moved along at a pretty good clip without to many hitches. In fact, I am not sure how we made it so far without someone getting hurt. I have a pretty vivid memory of visiting the old part of Las Vegas (probably not so old when we were there). Mom and dad left us in the Motorhome while they stepped into the casino and did some gambleing. The four of us kids lined up on the bed that hung over the cab and marveled at all the lights and the machines that lined up in front of us out the front window. Dad wasn't very happy with his take given his mood when they got back in the motorhome. Mom had been hitting the nickel slots and winning and she was complaining that dad kept taking all her cups of money. Judging from their dispositions, they must have came with less than they started with.

As kids, you just kind of move along through life without too much to worry about. It did seem pretty clear that things were starting to get a little strained. The Motorhome seemed more like a motor room by the time we pulled into California. We visited with some of our distant relatives there. Nice enough bunch. They lived on the edge of the desert. They had dune buggies and all the toys you might expect someone to have that lived on the desert. Dad spent a lot of time catching up. At some point, we went down toward Hollywood, mom found Buddy Epson asleep in his car on the side of the road (thats right JED CLAMPETT in person) She drug him out of the car and he took a picture with us on the side of the road. Down on the beach mom spotted another celebrity off of some soap opera, she managed to wrangle a picture with him as well.

The toll of the trip must have settled in cause dad and mom were really bumping heads. I am not sure how long we spent in California, but something went pretty wrong while we were there. Dad tied one on and as we were leaving the area he told us we were not going to make it to Disneyland. I remember him and mom fighting pretty bad and he told us mom had spent all the money and we couldn't afford to go. After that the motorhome pretty much headed for Indiana. We stopped at on the side of the road along the way to celebrate Jeff and Kevins birthday. We all sang happy birthday and ate some cake. It gave us a chance to walk the dog and stretch our legs.

Our dog came into our life sort of unexpectedly. Mom got the dog while dad was at work. It was a long haired dog. I don't even remember its name. Someone gave it to mom and she put it in the garage. Dad was working odd shifts and it was his privilege to be surprised by the wild animal as he opened the garage door. The dog barked and attacked. Dad and mom had a screaming match but mom won and the dog stayed. I think dad bonded with the dog over time and it became a pretty important part of our family.

As you might expect, things get pretty busy with a family of 6 in a motorhome. Important things like,where are the pieces for the Sorry game, what happened to my book report, where is my hairbrush and of course who let the dog in after the last stop are all things that come up as you meander across the country. Unfortunately for us, the last question was answered by some folks who pulled up next to us and flagged us down. The next 30 minutes seemed like an hour. As dad stepped back to the rear of the motor home it became ubundantly clear that no one had brought the dog in. Something like this is pretty hard to hide from the young ones when they are so underfoot. By this point the entire cast of the Jaynes bunch was hysterical. The dog, a medium build with short legs had not passed. Dad put him in the back door of the motorhome. He was in bad shape and in a lot of pain. He squirmed and yelped and begged for help with his eyes. Dad found his way off the freeway and located and old farm, while at the same time, any hope of control in the motorhome had slipped away. He didn't tell us what he was doing and he didn't explain it after he returned. The single gunshot said it all. The dog couldn't have survived.
As I write this, I know that many people will not believe it. There are certain parts of this story that actually appear in a very popular movie. My thoughts are that either this is a more common event than you might imagine or that some writer somewhere actually witnessed the horror that was our family vacation.