We are Florida-bound. It would be particularly sassy of us if we were leaving behind bitter cold and drifts of snow, but while our friends and family are suffering such things out west, NYC has been rather temperate. Still, we are excited. About getting there. The 15-hour car trip does not excitement bring.
Hour one: Review of the states that we will be traveling through. The Dad reviewed the nicknames (I've mentioned before that he's a bonafide (i.e. the best kind) nerd, right? ). As he said the nickname I held up a finger (and wondered what the answers were?!?). "The Empire State" (New York); "The Garden State" (New Jersey); Delaware did trip him up -- he popped off "The Constitution State" -- but then backtracked and said he knew it was the first state to sign the Constitution… It's actually the "The First State"; The Dad advocated hard that it should be "The Crab State," but is in actuality something he considers disappointing: "The Old Line State " (Maryland); "No taxation without representation" (D.C.); "The Old Dominion State" (Virginia); "The Tarheel State" (looked that puppy up -- originated from the Civil War and the idea that if the soldiers had tar on their heels they might stick/hold their positions better. There seems to be opposing views on whether or not the reference was to the rebels needing to hold their positions better, or whether it was a rebel joke that Jefferson Davies should use it to make the Yankees hold their positions better… Anyway, it's North Carolina); "The Palmetto State" (South Carolina); "The Peach State" (Georgia); "The Sunshine State" (Florida).
Hour two: One ginger cookie down. The kids used the laptop to watch Reading Rainbow: Ocean Life. It highlights the book Sam the Sea Cow. We will hopefully be sea cow caressing within 24 hours. I love LeVar Burton. I also love my friend who handed The Dad a gel seat for the car when he handed her the hermit crab. As we crossed the Delaware River the Dad asked: "Christmas Day 1776 -- who would we have seen crossing?" The boy drawled in a very bored voice: George Washington.
Hour three: Maryland. The kids are tormenting The Sister. They said that her hair brushing across their arms makes their bodies tingle (keep in mind that her hair comes into contact with their arms because they are constantly grabbing at her and occupying every inch of her personal space). They kept squawking at me to pull up my sweater sleeve and thrust my arm into the backseat so they could demonstrate the tingles that her hair brings. I told them to stop being weird. Their voices are starting to grate. We have to keep telling The Boy that while in most cases naked people are indeed funny, it's no longer funny to keep talking about it. Also not funny anymore to keep calling people idiots under his breath every time somebody says something. History review: Baltimore's football team is called The Ravens because Edgar Allan Poe is buried here. The Boy has told us to stop calling it "The Boy Who Cried Wolf" (which The Sister has been reminding them of because they are joking around with the Ziplock bags that we have for vomit emergencies). He claims that it makes it "too emotional for him" and that we should sometimes call it "The Girl Who Cried Wolf."
"Most likely my bum smells." The Boy
"How much longerrrrrr?" The 17-year old Sister
Hour four: "A long time ago bums were flat with a crack. No cheeks or anything. The Human Body King made Zeus angry by dropping him, so Zeus threw a lightning bolt at everybody's bum. In order to better protect everybody more padding was added. Doesn't that sound real?" And then Judd the Red Chicken proceeded to take the padding/seat cover off his booster and tried to put it on like a life preserver. He accomplished pinning his shoulder blades together and screeching.
Hour five: Back in the car after our first stop. We parked at the shopping center at the National Harbor. Our purpose (in addition to realigning our bodies) was to see the recently relocated "The Awakening" -- a very cool sculpture of a giant coming out of the ground. During our six and a half-minute stop we went to the bathroom and got cupcakes at Cake Love. My frosting fell off -- it was surely making a political/social statement after I said that it was not nearly as good as Georgetown Cupcakes. The Boy assessed the situation and plucked off his remaining frosting and placed it on my cupcake. We also had to go into the Peeps store because… well, there was a Peeps store. Against all parental common sense we said that they could pick out something to snack on later tonight when they watch a movie. Agreement was reached on the traditional marshmallow chicks -- blue. The three major road trip food groups have now been secured: cookies, cupcakes, and Peeps. We're NOW ready to attack this!
Hour six: An accident in Virginia by King's Dominion (an amusement park) backed up traffic -- a lot. The Girl fell asleep -- that really is the best way to travel. The further south we go, the more snow there is. Not that there's a lot -- I'm just trying to provide interesting commentary. Car-ride-specific blog banter.
Hour seven (4:30-5:30pm) Finally found Richmond. The old downtown area has beautiful buildings, but it didn't look very alive. Perhaps it's on the cusp of revitalizing -- it has all the hallmarks (the building with the amazing signage for an old bookstore that is now a rotating gallery space). Or perhaps it's totally vitalized, but on a winter late-afternoon it cast a forlorn shadow. Winter can do that. Our Richmond goal was Tredegar Iron Works. Really beautiful -- the golden glow of the sun on the water across the way from the civil war ruins. Here they made cannons for the war. Due to the accident (see hour six) we were late and they were closing up (take a big fat guess about how happy The Dad was about this? I've said before that he's Clark Griswold -- he was totally channelling him as he was cutting people off. Who, pray tell, drives like a maniac to get to a National Battlefield on time? After one particular harry close-call I asked the kids if they would care if we weren't able to do the Junior Ranger program. They were both totally indifferent. "I care," muttered The Dad as he dodged an innocent citizen crossing the street, "I care"). Once we got to the visitor center the ranger gave us the Junior Ranger book that we can complete on our own time. More info on Tredegar when we do our homework.
Back in the car we talked about the Battle of Petersburg. After a nine month siege (there was a critical rail spur for supplies there) the die was cast for the Union to finally win the war. We talked about General Lee's allegiance to Virginia, that Lincoln asked him to be the general of his army, but Lee said he would be on whatever side Virginia sided with. This sparked the memory from the movie, Lincoln, when Lincoln shows great respect to Lee. That led to a conversation on what happened to Lincoln's oldest son, Robert, the only son to make it to adulthood. He had an interesting life -- perhaps the most sensational incident was a coincidence that happened just before his father's assassination when he was at a train station in Jersey City, NJ. Because of the crowds and bad timing, he fell between the train and the platform. He was saved by a man grabbing him by his coat collar and plopping him back on to the platform. He recognized him as a famous actor, Edwin Booth. So he was saved by the brother of the man that would, within months, kill his father. Later in his life Robert told the story to a fellow soldier, who passed it on to his friend, Edwin Booth. Booth had not known that the person he saved was Lincoln's son. According to the wisdom of the internet, finding this out brought great comfort to Edwin Booth after what his brother did. There is a lot to think about there.
Hour eight (5:30-6:30) If there are civil war ghosts in Petersburg from all those bloody months we did not sense them in the grey strip mall where we found a Subway next to an auto body shop. Sandwiches to go -- back in the car.
Hour nine (6:30-7:30) Turning laptop over to the backseat for "movie night." They are watching The Fantastic Mr. Fox and consuming the Peeps.
Hour ten (7:30-8:30) Movie is finished. For the past three years on Martin Luther King, Jr. Day we watch Gregory Peck play the most-perfect Atticus in To Kill a Mockingbird. I feel like if you get a day off school you should know why. I figured that since we had all of this awesome car time this year we would read the book. Just finished reading Chapter 1. It is a most perfect book. The craft of writing is nuanced and the humor is often subtle, but I'm not reading it with the goal of having them understand it all. I'm reading it for them to hear how a person can take words that we all have at our disposal and line them up and create deep exactness and ethereal musicality. They will also have the full context (almost full -- I'll be editing a bit when it comes to what Tom's trial is about) for when we watch the movie again next year. And when the time comes for my own Jem and Scout to discover the book in the privacy of their own heads they will have the benefits that come from rereading a book -- which are many. Focusing on details, finding threads, and adding rich texture to the rough sketches that are already there from the first reading… It's been said that it's not the amount of books that you've read that matters, but the amount of books that you've reread.
Hour eleven (8:30-9:30) My good golly golly. We are just almost-half-way. The feeling of futility might make me pop. There will be blue marshmallow mixed with my body parts strewn about the front seat. The kids are snuggling down a bit in the back. It's almost time for me to take over driving ..
Wow. Wasn't that hourly blow-by-blow fun? The thing that SUCKED was that by 9:30 we still had 6.5 hours to go. Those hours were a nasty-mean blur. And by blur, I don't mean to convey quickness, but rather a loss of connectivity to external awareness. It was hell. I would see a sign: Savannah 168 miles and then aliens would come and wear me down -- perhaps with experiments -- for several hours, and then: what ho! in the distance a green sign coming up to let me know how much progress I made: I had sacrificed for a long time, and here was the payoff: Savannah 164. What the….??? As I endured this torture, and my family drifted in and out of sleep, I listened to a Christmas CD. It was the only thing that the moppets said that they could go to sleep to. I passed a school bus. Dark outside, dark inside with dark shadows moving about. I could see some sports equipment piled in the back seats. I wondered who was flirting with whom,: if they had won the game. I made up unique scenarios/family lives that different individuals would go home to after being dropped off at the school. I thought of how different my high schooled seemed at night. At another point I looked across the grassy meridian and saw a car going in the opposite direction with a silvery liquid flag waving above it. Just as I mused as to why they would have a flagpole attached to their car I realized it had been the back of a (very stationary) sign that had lined up just so for a fraction of a second. I pulled over and switched with The Dad at the next opportunity. We switched another time. "Mr Big Stuff" and "Grease is the Word" had been on the radio at some point in the soup. I missed a turn-off (poor signage) and if I wasn't grasping the steering wheel so tightly with both hands I just might have torn out some tufts of hair.
I put into law a new rule in our family. NEVER will we drive more than 8 hours in one go. When I made this announcement (I kind of slurred it -- I got to that tired point when talking was almost too much to ever consider doing again) The Dad visually clenched his jaw. I'm pretty sure that he has at least 46 vacations already planned out, and most likely there were marathon car trips built in to them. It had to be done. At 4am, in the elevator up to our room that we would only be in for THREE hours he had the audacity to say something like: I know it was hard, but look we did it!
"I am not validating that you said that." I looked around at the kids with narrowed eyes and slurred, "Noboy in this elevator is to validate that."
