An Early Road Trip

Jack learned to love riding with grandma and Pop Pop. Even at an early age, we would plug in a portable video player, and he'd watch Disney movies the entire way, and he loved hotels. He smiled like this as soon as he saw us packing bags.

When he was two and three, he began coaxing to return to Disneyland, especially when Tommy was in Ontario. When I put him down for his nap, I would tell him two stories: a Disneyland story recounting things we did on previous adventures with sounds and descriptions of the rides, and a Star Wars story with sounds and descriptions of spaceships and his favorite characters. I could never do the Chewy howl like Uncle Cles, but I could do a R2-D2 whistle very well, and Jack loved those stories. Before we went to sleep, he would ask me about any upcoming trip.

"When you see my bag packed and resting by my closet, you'll know we're going the next morning." He watched for the bag every day, and when it finally appeared, he would get so excited, that it was impossible to pack the car.

Another thing about Jack that still has not changed is his hatred of socks. I began calling him Huckleberry, after Twain's character, because he never liked shoes or socks.

In this picture, it shows him pulling one off. It was always a hunt to find his shoes and socks before we began a trip.

On this day in April of 2004, we were getting ready to get in the car to make a trip. It may have been the day we drove to Salt Lake City to pick up Lydia and Tommy. They stayed with us, while Jeff was doing some intensive stuff during those early years of medical training in Ohio.

Tommy was still unsure of how to take his Pop Pop. During that early stay, Tommy eventually learned to enjoy his tickling, his teasing, his playing.

When we stopped at Grandma Ward's house in Malad, Tommy crawled beneath a chair, and I crept on all fours toward him while growling and showing my teeth. He'd point at me, his eyes defiant. But eventually I won him over. Watching his reaction made his mom and my mom laugh, but my Annie, like her own mother, never appreciated my teasing.

One thing for certain, those years with the boys at this age were magical, and the same is true about the time with Anna. The thing I always think about is the resentment I sometimes have about not spending time with my own children like I have with grand kids, but my own father complained about that same situation.

During this past summer, we stopped at Fort Abraham Lincoln midway through North Dakota, and at a recreation of a Mandan Indian village, one guide told about that people's belief system, which recognized four phases of life. Like the seasons, there were four: childhood, adolescence, parenthood and grand parenthood. Each one teaches us and shapes us as individuals.

I agree and don't resent something I can't change. Not only that, I figure those ancients were kind of smart in their view of life.