Holiday Road

“I found out long ago it’s a long way down the holiday road.”

It’s hard to believe a vacation can be called a vacation when it starts and ends by riding in a confined area with the same three people for 10 hours.

Our family just returned from a week-long vacation at various landmarks and lakes in the fabulous state of South Dakota. “Next time let’s not travel so far,” my daughter Mandy said. Um, we only went one state away. (She was also disappointed last year when we bought a camper. She didn’t want to be stuck in the camper with us. She wanted to go someplace exciting with someone fun. The burns just don’t sting as much as the hearing starts to go.)

I’m sure we could have come up with other exotic destinations, but that’s what happens when you plan a vacation in just a couple days, trying to squeeze it in with a family reunion between the end of baseball season and the beginning of football season. You know we can’t miss a game or practice. That’s coaching sacrilege.

Actually the trip to South Dakota was educational in many ways. We all learned a good many things. We toured a cave and saw stalagmites and stalactites; we visited Mt. Rushmore and read about dead presidents. We learned about the outlaws of Deadwood at the museum there, trying not to run over any of the outlaw bikers currently in residence. And we toured the mine at Lead and discovered how you use the bathroom at 8,000 feet below the surface. (Don’t ride the red carts underground with the strange lids.)

But the real things that we will remember were not really part of the itinerary. In fact, I’m doubtful I can still recall what four presidents are on Mt. Rushmore, but that might be the Alzheimer’s. For example, the kids discovered that their dad is the king of useless information. This was not new information to me – we’ve been married more than 18 years. Every trip we have ever taken I am bombarded with little facts. Our nephew once told Rick he didn’t know everything; Jesus knew more than Rick. Rick quickly retorted, “But Jesus is the only one who does.” In South Dakota, Rick would point out “useful” information about tilting sandstone formations, future uses of neutrinos in energy and weaponry, and the powerful erosive powers of dam spillways. This is what you get when you are related to an environmental civil engineer. We made lots of stops, but only a few of those were for food or the bathroom. Ooooooh, look at that exciting dam spillway. Aaaaah, that is a beautiful rock outcropping. Wow, they really have a problem with loose sediment. And you thought stopping for the world’s biggest ball of stamps was mind-numbing.

Joe, our 11-year-old, learned not to swim in the lake directly in front of the area his cousins were throwing rocks. A very energetic little guy caught him on the side of the head with a big chunk of driftwood. (We all said an emphatic “no” in unison when the same little boy wanted to chop firewood with Rick’s hatchet later than night. Yikes.) Although Joe was out of commission with ice on the bump for a good chunk of time, it wasn’t enough to stop him from tubing behind the boat when his turn came around. It's funny how you can perk right up when your ship comes in. Joe also learned things could be worse: if you go down the water slide head-first like another kid at our hotel, you could end up splitting the top of your head open. That boy had to go to the emergency room for stitches. Then there are those really important, food-related discoveries: 1) all Mongolian Grills aren’t as good as the one in Lincoln, and 2) you can’t get the roast to go all the way to the middle of those jumbo marshmallows. Lastly, he was shocked to learn that Bambie was actually a boy deer. (Don’t ask.)

Mandy, our 13-year-old, learned not to mouth off to bigger, stronger relatives. She may be taller than her mom, but she has uncles and cousins much bigger. They aren’t afraid to sling her over their shoulder like a sack of potatoes and try to chuck her in the lake. Being a smart aleck can be dangerous; don’t sass your dad before he pulls you on the tube behind the boat. We never had to wonder where the boat went. We could hear the screams coming and going. Other things she discovered: mountain streams are very cold if you stand in them, and she was born with the ability to multitask by texting boys and playing Frisbee at the same time. Being in the Black Hills, she discovered that she likes cowboy hats and boots. Heaven preserve us from cowboys with cell phones. I remember when I used to call those guys “goat ropers,” but not in an endearing way. My sister would agree. While working in Pine Ridge, one cowboy hit on her, saying his horse was his ride. She was not impressed. Of course, his lack of teeth didn’t help.

I, myself, learned many things on our vacation. One, come supplied with a secret napkin and ketchup stash. There are never enough of these two items when your major source of food comes from a drive thru. Two, a ten-hour drive is enough time to figure out how to log into face book with your phone. Three, I can spot a biker chick even without the bike a mile away. Besides their unique wardrobe choices, they all have that weathered, haggard look like they could do with another cigarette. D) I like the taste of Northern over walleye. Who would’ve thunk it? Five, Rick’s blue eyes actually come from the Norwegian Nelson side of the family. I guess I can stop looking for the origin of the Krushenisky name. Six, and most importantly, calories don’t count on vacation, so it’s OK to buy five pounds of handmade taffy. No scale, no problem.

All in all, it was a good trip and well worth the time and money. But what, you ask, did Rick learn on our vacation? I don’t know, but I’ve heard enough. If you want to know, you can ask him yourself. He will be more than glad to explain it to you.

 Holiday Road with Lyndsay Buckingham

Ladies Love Country Boys by Trace Adkins

Tubthumping by Chumbawamba