Road Trips

It's always interesting how Yellowstone affects me. After I arrive, I forget all the irritating things of the normal day--drivers with cell phones, extremely old people in motor homes.

Sometimes even conversation becomes difficult, so grandchildren invent something.

"He's touching me!" There's an annoyed tremor in the voice, and when I turn around, a grandson is tickling my granddaughter on the neck.

We correct it. Suddenly, my grandson's voice appears: " "Tell Anna to stop hugging me." Tommy's eyes fill with mischief.

"I'm not." Anna's voice quakes a bit, and then she starts to cry. Jack feels indignant and has to make things right. He wants justice.

"Tommy's just saying that."

I understand. I had sisters, and when I wasn't saying or doing something to irritate them, I said or did something to get them in trouble. They learned the skill well, and they often found the tactic to be a weapon--especially on long road trips.

My dad understood classical conditioning. We'll let you listen to your music Jon, but you can't tease. My heart pounded. I handed a cassette of Deep Purple or The Who. Midway through the fist song, one of my sisters would cry out, even if I didn't say or do anything. I could feel them smiling at me first. Anger swept across my face.

"I'll get you good," I'd say. I always mouthed the words clearly, just so they could not mistake my meaning. But they knew they had me. Dad gave me one warning without saying anything. He hit the eject button. My next movement was almost involuntary. I felt the need to put my arms behind my head to stretch. I would slap both, just to get the right sister.

He's going to hit us dad. My father would give a brief stare. I recognized the look. It meant my dishing out karma would have to wait. We drove in silence. Then he would put in something he liked.

I always had "chick music." They were cassettes from bands like Bread or music of Neil Diamond. Dad liked all that. I preferred Neil Diamond. My dad's singing the words "Jeremiah was a bullfrog" was too much for any road trip. And besides, he teased me too. As soon as he noticed it bothered me, he began singing. He missed the words on purpose to.

These are things you think about when you experience a road trip with grandchildren. Maybe it's karma. I like to think my dad is sitting next to me in spirit, enjoying me grit my teeth when little ones begin to become restless.

It's why I think of Neil Diamond and Bread when we drive to Yellowstone.