Family Vacation

National Lampoon’s (NOT)Happy Fourth of July

My wife and her sister are close and talk almost daily. An uncle in Phoenix was recovering from a hospital stay and wanted to see them. We agreed on traveling together and decided on the 4th of July holiday week as the dates. Her sister lives in Albuquerque so we were to meet them there, a three-and-a-half-hour drive from where we live, and ride with them in a rental. It would cut costs and more drivers equals better driving, doesn’t it? Our Dodge Journey had been giving us some problems, though it seemed to be running great after the last fix. I still did not want to trust it for a six-hundred-mile trip. Things were going our way; we got a tax rebate that was unexpected and sold an old truck, for more expense money. An old friend I worked for in Las Vegas, had answered an email request, and we reconnected. I was hoping to have time to see him, since it was close. That ignited the gambling fever in everyone, and we looked at the logistics of fitting a day trip into the schedule.

I don’t know how many tiers of event planners exist, but we were in the bottom ten-percentage. It is the thirtieth day of June and we have not confirmed any details. I have heard bits and pieces, but no one has called to check with Uncle Jr on arrival dates, much less times. He day before we were to depart, July 2nd, her sister announced she was going alone and needed to ride with us. They had planned to drive separately because she needed to get back for work and we were going to extend our time and visit Las Vegas, Nevada. Her sister’s husband was going to drive up on the 4th so they could go back on the 5th. We got up at 4am, to get on the road and red flags began to fly. The wife decides she needs to get some new outfits to take, because of the hot weather expected in Arizona. We waited an hour for Walmart to open and spent one-hundred- and twenty-five-hour dollars of our vacation budget on new shorts and sandals, etc. Returning home to pack, she decides to not take our little doggy, Brownie so we must drop him off to our son. Amid the confusion, we misplaced our house key, and it took an hour before we realized that it was hanging on the wall where we normally hang it, but there was a towel covering it. Finally, we pack up the car (more to follow on that) and after dropping the dog off, we leave for Albuquerque.

The first leg went off without a hitch and we pulled into Tricia’s driveway expecting her to have her stuff ready to load, hoping to make up for some of the time wasted earlier. That didn’t happen, she had clothes all over the place, trying to decide what to take and matching different combinations to see how they looked. An hour later, we got on the road. I was familiar with the beginning of the route, having made the drive from Roswell, New Mexico to Las Vegas nearly a dozen times over the years. We had made good time, all the way to Flagstaff, Arizona. After a quick bite to eat, we got back on the road. Now, I was used to going to Kingman from there, but Phoenix was to the south.

“Hey Google, give me the quickest route from here to Phoenix.”, I hear my sister-in-law’s voice from the back seat. So, of course, everybody trusts Google Maps, right…. Ugh right? For those of you not familiar

with the area, there are two interstates that travel east to west I 10 and I 40, and two that travel north and south, I25 and I 35.

The map shows the east/west routes are nearly the same in mileage, and the arrival times were comparable. The difference in directional road maps and topographic maps is elevation markings. Google forgot to mention that. We were directed to follow 40 west and the drive is uneventful, until you leave civilization and begin a slow assent up the mountain range. Don’t let the open plains and green acres fool you; it was the beginning of a long journey. Particularly, for me, wide-eyed and surprised at the changes of scenery, while dodging semis coming towards you on the ever-narrowing width of the two- lane highway. My ears ring and I feel like the conductor of a large rollercoaster with tracks, but no guard rails, other than my ability to follow the road. To make matters worse, the sun was setting, blinding you as you drove directly into its path.

From Wikipedia,

• The Chuska Mountains are an elongated range on the southwest Colorado Plateau and within the Navajo Nation, and their highest elevations approach 10,000 feet. The range is about 80 by 15 km (50 by 10 miles). It trends north-northwest and is crossed by the state line between Arizona and New Mexico.

•

That was considerably higher than I thought during the trip up the mountain but navigating the winding roads at sixty-five miles an hour going downhill verified the height. The roads are designed to provide passing lanes every six to eight miles, alternating the side of the road. Great idea, bad planning with the landscaping. The spiral turns and large pines and firs that grow all over the mountain cause the drivers to correct their mirrors and sun visors constantly, while maintaining the sixty-five an hour speed limit. I’m curious as to whether the state has a law against tailgating because it resembles a motor speedway most of the time. Then there is the constant road construction. I give them props because the finished

products are beautiful. They are just never finished. The state is attracting people from all over the country, and the infrastructure changes constantly. Leaving Payson, I thought it would be a great camping trip, when a person could take the time to enjoy the natural scenery. It was another hour and a half to Chandler, where her uncle lived. The sun was racing to go to bed, the white and orange cones were everywhere. Google maps was speaking from three devices, sometimes in conflict. To add to the fun, my wife, Lisa was sure she knew the way to “her” uncle’s house. Never mind the fact that had been twenty years ago, when it was the only house in the new subdivision.

All large and major urban areas use loops to lessen traffic congestion, and lower drive times to different parts of the area. Great concept for locals, not always beneficial to first time visitors. Google Maps goes back and forth on using the loops, so of course we were on the slowest road, during the highest congestion period, trying to read street names in the failing twilight. One and a half hours became three and included a little unplanned off-road activity. We made it safely to the in laws and Auntie Princelyn insisted on frying the catfish she had prepped. There was cabbage and homemade cornbread to go with it. The smiles from Aunt and Uncle made the trip worthwhile. They had slept through the day and kept us up until two o’clock in the morning with stories from the twenty-one-year journey to overnight success they enjoyed. A million-dollar home in an area of town where house values were skyrocketing. Oh, and they have no mortgage.

End of the first part of the story. Cliffhanger, in addition to all the things we forgot to pack, the ladies see sales at Walmart that remind them of Factory to You. And we get to see the teeth fairy. See you next week.

Happy 4th of July National Lampoon pt2

Lisa and I went up the winding staircase that led to the second level of the home. Everything was covered with plush off-white carpet. The top of the staircase places you directly in front of a huge family room with two large couches, three stuffed chairs, and a seating area at the rear for table games. The hall led to two guest baths, three large bedrooms and what I dubbed the Presidential Bedroom. It contained a four-poster California King, and there was ample room for three dressers and an armchair. Each room was painted with a base color, which was coordinated with the bed coverings, drapes, and lamps. If that sounds like it came from a travel mag, then I might have done the place justice. I could not stop telling the hosts have much I loved their home, only to hear their regrets that age was preventing them from keeping up with cleaning and repairs. Lisa and I looked at one another and smiled, thinking maybe we could help them out. The trip had taken its toll, so we excused ourselves from eating, grabbed some articles from the car, and raced Tricia up the stairs to claim the four-poster.

The next morning, we visited for a short while, but after unpacking last night, we discovered that half of our intended items were still back home. So, we did what every good American citizen does when traveling, Google the nearest Walmart. It was less than three miles away so I’m thinking we’ll be in and out in no time. Then I realized every man’s nightmare. I was trapped in a store with two women who were enjoying pricing so low, I was forcing myself to pick out a couple of outfits. The ladies had filled two shopping carts to overflowing. Two hours later, we leave with our bags and walk out to three or four acres of parked cars, clueless to where we had left the car. Our two carts had fit into one, when the girls found out that buying in bulk added up quickly, despite the sale prices. Technology saved us from further humility as I beeped the car opener to guide us to the right spot. We get back to the house and Auntie lets us know that her youngest daughter will be over to pick us up to look at some hair pieces. Oh joy, I’m stuck back in my childhood, when it was just me and three sisters. By the way, my wife’s card had not worked since we left New Mexico. It is a smaller bank, with just a few branches, which forces them to place higher restrictions on transactions outside of the usual area. Meanwhile, I was wearing my card out. “But you know I’ll give it back to you.”, she would squeal as she took the card.

” Yeah, but we still don’t have a time and place for that event”, I replied as I placed the card back in my wallet.

The three of us cooked a brunch of bacon, potato, and onion casserole, with eggs cooked to order. The kitchen had the latest built -in units for microwave, convection ovens, and bottom oven, and the marble top counters held more equipment. The walk-in pantry contained a six-month supply of canned and dry goods stacked on shelves around the walls. But there were no coffee grounds, none, not even instant. The high security system was fully armed and in use at night, with a different setting during the day. The elderly couple slept a lot due to medications and insisted on arming and setting the system themselves. We were not strangers, and it was more routine than trust, just an inconvenience to our hosts. The store was 600 ft from the house, we took the car and two bottles of water, each. Since we knew we were coming back right away, Auntie Princlyn agreed to leave the garage door alarm off, if we promised to put it on afterwards. We agreed.

It took a little longer and a lot more money before I could pry them away from Bashas, it was the consummate shopping experience. Whether you needed something special for a gourmet dinner party, or the quick fixings for the family’s midweek filler meal, they had it, and at reasonable prices. Then there was the deli, and the bakery, fresh fruit and vegetables, a donut and bagel counter, and rows upon rows of everything else. No, this is not a paid ad, they were simply good. We check out and get home before Uncle or Auntie are awake and discover that the house had all the items we had just purchased, and usually in bulk. Auntie asked the same question when Tricia wanted to know where to store an item.

“Honey, I don’t know why y’all went out and spent all that money for? We just went to Costco last week and there was hardly room to put it away. There’s only the two of us and lately I haven’t had much of an appetite. By the way, your uncle keeps going on about the grill needing to be done. He wants to cook already.”

“I talked to him when we first got here and thought we were set for the fourth. I did tell him I cook just as well the other days too, I added. Maybe I can stay and clean the grill while they shop for hair.”

“Oh no, you’re going with me,” Lisa said.

The doorbell rang and looking out the window, I could see a smaller replica of Auntie waving and gesturing for me to open the door. I ducked back into the kitchen and announced that our ride was here. Lakeesha strode in, and mirrored the only mom she knew in mannerism and voice. It proved again how we are more the product of our environment than inherited traits. Altogether, they had adopted six kids, products of two families. They were all living in the area, but none were still in the home. They thrived under Uncle Jr’s military style of discipline and tough love but couldn’t wait until they were able to leave home. It reminded me of my childhood. I was closer in age to my wife’s aunt and uncle, and it led to our developing a close relationship over the phone before we met in person. After an hour of catching her parents up with news of her and her fiancée, she was ready to go. We piled into her car, and she sped off, giving a tour of the neighborhood she grew up in, and the surrounding area apartments and businesses she used to work at, during her high school years. The area changed as we passed through downtown Chandler and headed towards Phoenix. We approached the stop light and our tour guide pointed at a strange looking vehicle with an antenna array on top, and other electrical equipment mounted on the exterior of the vehicle. It was a new self-driven Uber-style rider service which did its own bookings as it traveled around the city.

I was the only one in the car that did not have a problem with riding in an autonomous vehicle, but I backed down when I thought of what the fare must be. We’re inching closer and closer to living like the Jetsons. I was drug to the hair shop, kicking and screaming, but then amazed at the different styles women could buy to change their appearance instantly. Despite the impending holiday, the store was busy, but the scenery wasn’t bad. Lucky for me, the wifey was still checking out hair. I thought I was in trouble when she burst around the corner, but she just needed to Bundy me, for the last of my large bills, and ran back to the cashier. I let them know we needed to get back, because my feet hurt, and my wallet was empty. It had not been great fun, but it checked another of the boxes we had planned to cover. We got back to the house just in time to catch Jr. heading out to the patio with a bucket and some cleaning supplies. We let him start, then went over and grabbed all the equipment, sending him for more paper towels. By the time he made his return the grill and smoker were free of trash and looked new from the stainless-steel polish we applied.

“Not bad, not bad.” Jr said as he checked the cookers for dirt. We passed muster and were able to get grill and the smoker lit. the fire sent clouds of smoke as the meat hit the grill and smoker. He had already marinated the ribs and some larger pork steaks, so we just needed to wrap the ears of corn with aluminum foil and place them on the top shelf of the grill to cook slowly. We talked about the backyard he had assembled over the past twenty years. Every bush, tree, flagstone step, and the imitation stone fountain, were the result of their commitment to provide the kids with memorable childhoods.

An old gazebo, its roof just tatters of cloth, was home to bikes of differing makes and sizes, resting underneath, waiting for the day they would hit the streets with grandkids replacing parents, on the seats. I noted the lack of repairs, and he admitted that child rearing responsibilities and aging had taken their toll. My wife and I offered to come back and help them, and we agreed to make a plan that would allow us to stay and have time for work. We stayed up late watching and keeping the meat turned and the coals from flaring up too much. The clock struck twelve, July 2nd and six slabs of baby backs and two more trays of assorted meats were basking in the moonlit sky, ready for display in two days. Not, we ate half of one slab that night. The next day we sat around as Uncle Jr and the oldest living female in the family, gave their nieces’ the family history along with photos. The fourth was more of the same and I felt I connected with two of the cousin’s husbands. One was through sharing the importance of having a spiritual life, and how the present and coming generations seem to lack interest. The second conversation began with a comment about his Yankees hat and found we had a mutual love of the same baseball and football teams. We talked for hours and left much unsaid. This was a close-up view of the family my wife never knew, and Jr said it was only a small part of them. It would be nice to get to know them all, maybe next time. That night we heard, rather than saw the fireworks as the house was situated to where the view was blocked. I watched “Carlton” emcee the national fireworks and music extravaganza, and it was very well done.

When we left for home, on the Fifth we were packing leftovers and good vibes to take with us. Our return route avoided the high mountains and gave us the chance to see our son in Las Cruces. There was one small hiccup. We had stopped for donuts and coffee on the way out of town and my uppers came off while biting into a bear claw. I put them in the wrapper with the rest of the donut, to eat later. Our next stop was for a bathroom break, and I threw the trash. Another thirty minutes we stopped for gas and the restroom. I bought a burger and was just settling in to enjoy it and…no teeth. I knew as soon as I got in the car, where they were…IN THE TRASH!!! I threw them away with the trash. Against my debate, the cost of going back was less than replacing them, and a whole lot quicker. It was still going to cost us thirty minutes, it would take that long to exit and turn around. For those who wear dentures, you know my panic, I certainly don’t carry around spares. Luckily, the trash and the bear claw, and the teeth were still there. The rest area was crowded, but no one paid any attention. I was kinda hoping I might be mistaken for homeless and make a few bucks. I recovered my teeth, and they remained in place for the rest of the trip. Of course, the trip would not be complete without getting lost at least once. I just needed to take the last exit to Santa Rosa and that would take me all the way home. I tried, but realized my bladder was not going to wait so I pulled off at the second exit, and ran inside the convenience store, barely making it. Getting back on the road I turned towards what I thought was the right direction. Ten miles later, we were heading up a large hill, on a road that was turning to gravel, and nothing but darkness ahead. At the stop sign, I turned right behind a semi and let him guide me back to civilization and home.

Happy Fourth of July from the Broomfield/Livingston clan.

Barron M Broomfield