I don’t remember ever taking a vacation for the sake of vacationing with my parents. I remember a working vacation when we drove throughout New England visiting small colleges for my father’s show about such institutions.
That was the summer I counted Chevrolet Impalas from the back seat. I don’t know where we went, where we stayed or what we did while he worked. In fact, I don’t recall how old I was.
Vacations came later in life. My wife was an expert trip planner and we did some wonderful things in addition to the typical, like Disney. The Four Corners and the Virgin River in Zion National Park have always stood out. In that river, cut through a canyon, I took an amazing photograph of my younger daughter and after doing that, I looked up through the canyon walls and knew that there was a God.
There was also San Francisco and the visit to Alcatraz. It was on that trip that Jean found a rare thing: a place where amateurs with children could go spelunking.
They made me go first and it was pretty scary. The last cavern was discovered from a ledge high up, underground and you had to ride the rope from the ledge to the cavern floor; unforgettable.
The family trip to Israel was extraordinary: visiting family, some I’d never met; and exploring Jewish history and even some culture in the desert. Very memorable was the airodium (probably misspelled) where our children literally FLEW over a giant fan. That was something I hope they will never forget.
Summer camp I guess was my vacation. Day camp, when I was old enough to appreciate what I was experiencing, served as a vacation from the city life during daytime. If I had loved sleep away camp, and had pleasant memories, I’m sure that it would have served as a vacation for me rather than what I suspect was a vacation for my parents.
There are a lot of things going in my life now which suggest to me the need for a vacation for this blog. I hope to be back in the Fall. Until then my readers and friends, thank you for your loyalty and THANK YOU FOR READING!
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