Easin' Along | Easin' Along

Dear Big Daddy’s Granddaughter…

Posted on March 27, 2020March 27, 2020 by Easin' Along

Author’s note: One of my New Year’s resolutions was a pledge to send a letter to one of my four grandchildren every week. Last week, I mentioned a reply from my granddaughter about how excited she was to meet Smoky, the travel trailer we would be bringing to her and her brother. I mentioned her letter in last week’s post and received a comment from Mary who authors Reflections Around the Campfire, a well-written travel blog I follow. Mary suggested that I send our grandchildren on the West Coast a letter from Smoky, who would not be making the trip now due to the COVID-19 pandemic. I took Mary’s suggestion. Here is a reprint of the letter from Smoky to our granddaughter. This was her week.

February 23, 2020

Dear Big Daddy’s Granddaughter,

First, let me introduce myself. My name is Smoky, and I am the new trailer that BeBe and Big Daddy planned to bring to California and give to you and your brother. Trailers are made to travel and I was so very excited that I was about to go across America to meet you and take you camping. Big Daddy tells me that those plans have changed and that it might be a while before we get to meet. When I heard the news, I told Big Daddy that I would write this letter and let you know how disappointed I am.

Big Daddy spent a lot of time getting me all dressed up and ready for the trip. He peeled all of the stickers off of my sides and then rubbed and rubbed until all of the glue came off too. I have to tell you that all of that rubbing tickled my sides. I tried not to laugh, but that is hard to do when someone has their fingers in your ribs. Have you ever had someone tickle your ribs? I bet you have. After all of the glue came off, Big Daddy spent a lot of time putting a fresh coat of wax on me too. I put a picture of me for you to see. Don’t I look great?

Although trailers don’t get sick, I will have to stay at my home in the storage lot until BeBe and Big Daddy can take me out again. That makes me very lonely. Sometimes, I turn on the new TV that Big Daddy put in my kitchen so I can watch cartoons, but I get bored after a while and find myself wishing I could go camping with my friends like Timmy Trailer, Carla Camper, Teddy Truck, and Vickie Van. Here is a picture that I took on our last big camp-out. We had a great time until Teddy had a squirrel get under his hood and started running around inside. He cracked up and stuck a roasted marshmallow in his windshield. Most of us laughed at him, but Teddy doesn’t like to get laughed at and he pouted for hours.

There are other trailers in the storage lot, but most of them are a lot older than I am and all they do is worry that their grandchildren are ok. BeBe and Big Daddy worry about all of their grandchildren constantly. I’m too young to have grandchildren, but I really hope and pray that you and your brother stay well, wash your hands often, and stay home until all of this passes. I’m sure it will pass soon. BeBe and Big Daddy are using a lot of hand sanitizer after they go to Trader Joe’s or the drug store. I think that is a very good idea.

I will close my letter now. Once again, I’m sorry that I won’t get to see you for a while, but I promise that when we do go camping, we will have a wonderful time. When that happens, I can truly say that Smoky will be a very Happy Camper.

Until then, I will think of you often.

Smoky

P.S. BeBe and Big Daddy love you and miss you muchly and can’t wait until we are all Easin’ Along together!

Fun

Virus, 2 – Easin’ Along, 0

Posted on March 20, 2020March 20, 2020 by Easin' Along

No, we’re not sick. Actually, we’re feeling pretty good. The same is true for our friends and family. As of today, there is only one case of COVID-19 diagnosed in our county and not that many more in the State of Tennessee. We’re grateful for that and send thanks and best wishes to our health care workers and our state officials after taking swift, decisive action. However, this week the coronavirus outbreak removed two RVers from the road.

The fact that we’re in good health at the moment is what makes this situation so incredibly disappointing. Helen and I have spent the last month preparing for an RV trip to the west coast to deliver a new travel trailer to our son and our grandchildren. Ever since we won the trailer last October, we planned to take a slow trip to California and present our grandchildren with the opportunity to share the RV experience that we enjoy so much.

We didn’t cancel the trip. The trip canceled us. Beginning Monday of this week, the operators of campgrounds where we had reservations began sending out cancellation notices due to concerns over the spread of this virus. Cancellations from the California campgrounds were the first to arrive. Next came Oklahoma. Finally, we received notice that our much-anticipated booking in Las Vegas was gone. It was like death from a thousand cuts.

I considered just going on the trip anyway but stopped short when I thought about being stranded somewhere with health, food, or road issues and no one to turn to for help. At that point, we both realized that the best thing to do was to postpone. We called the family. My granddaughter had just written a beautiful letter telling me how excited she was to meet Smoky (the name for trailer), and camp at Point Mugu, a military campground near Malibu Beach. She took the news in stride, and that helped. Everyone agreed that we would make this happen as soon as possible.

The next thing to do was to cancel the few reservations that were still open. I had devoted a lot of time to this task because RV reservations are often not easy to obtain on the dates you need them. After some tough navigating and remaining flexible, I was able to arrive at a very workable itinerary. Having to cancel them now was not at all easy. Besides, I was so looking forward to seeing some Texas tumbleweeds and a few cowboys. I was eager for some warm Arizona sun and a few of those stunning sunsets that we witnessed last year in Apache Junction. The timing for desert wildflowers was also going to be spot on, and that is an event that leaves one spellbound.

On trips like the one we planned, there are always fun surprises, and we look forward to those very much. One year ago this week, we visited San Antonio on St. Patrick’s Day and had a delightful time along the Riverwalk. We enjoyed a food festival in El Centro, CA, and a street festival in Biloxi, MS. I suppose that none of those events, or ones like them, will take place this year. That’s a shame but, it is what it is.

*St. Patrick’s Day – San Antonio Riverwalk*

The only thing we can do is make the best of the time we have. I plan to view some webinars to improve my camera skills. There are always those home projects that get ignored or postponed while we take another road trip. My deck is in bad need of some attention. I have closets to clean out, a garage that needs organizing, and my tax return needs a thorough review. None of the above includes the lengthy “to-do” list that Helen adds to daily now that she has me somewhat confined and within arm’s reach. I have pledged to convince her that she needs to get out more often.

All of this will pass in due course. I have to admit that my real concern is that, at our age, we never know how many opportunities like this we will have. Nevertheless, we have been so very blessed since we retired and have every expectation that opportunities like the ones we have enjoyed so much will continue. If there is a silver lining arising from this most unusual time, it is that when those opportunities come again, we will cherish them even more.

Uh-oh…I hear footsteps. I’d better be Easin’ Along before another list finds its way into the man cave. Let’s talk again next week.

Fundamentals

Hilton Head – A Happy Habit for Forty Years

Posted on March 14, 2020March 14, 2020 by Easin' Along

*Rollin’ along* (*Click on any picture to enlarge*)

The story I am about to tell to you is not the whole story because I was only on the periphery for most of it. In the beginning, I was a babysitter; in later chapters, I was just a facilitator on the way to becoming a strong advocate. Forty years ago, six lovely ladies went on a special trip to a happy place and have returned every year since. Their most recent trip wrapped up last week.

What I know about the story is limited to what is shared with me every year—most of what happened in Hilton Head stayed in Hilton Head. Nevertheless, I can tell you that the framework of the story centers around six busy ladies wanting to get away from the demands of making life easier for husbands and young children and go to a place where life moved at a slower pace. I am confident that they let their hair down a bit, but, as you can tell from the pictures, they are mostly a short-haired bunch.

In 1980, Anne, one of six young Moms living in the same neighborhood, was offered the use of a beach house in Hilton Head, SC, owned by her parents. Her mother said she would babysit Anne’s three children while she and her husband, Ralph, went away for a long weekend. For reasons long ago forgotten, Ralph didn’t want to go and, Ralph never got another chance. Not one to waste an opportunity (or anything else for that matter), Anne invited five Moms to share the house, and, thus, a tradition was born.

I remember well that first trip. The moms gathered in Posey’s driveway all a-twitter with excited anticipation. Anne’s well-traveled Volkswagen van was filling quickly with luggage and “supplies” (code for wine). Standing alongside were several husbands and young children, some not yet informed that Mom was about to disappear for a few days. The Moms moved quickly lest a disgruntled babe cast a pall over the departure. Husbands held their breath—cancellation was not an option. The van pulled out. I’m not sure I even got a wave goodbye. I do remember what happened next. Within ten minutes, my youngest fell and received a cut requiring stitches. I spent the afternoon in the pediatrician’s office with a three-year-old screaming for Mommy. As a footnote, the van died every time they stopped and the ladies had to push it off before they could continue on their merry way.

*A few years later years later and still havin’ fun!*

After that first trip, I learned that Hilton Head was declared an annual event. I asked if this was open to discussion.

“Only among the six of us,” came the rapid reply.

Since that first pilgrimage, the only decision was not if Hilton Head was on, but when. The hard and fast rule was that the departure date became established once every participant had a clear calendar in the same week, usually in the spring. Over the years, many girl’s nights out were necessary to nail down the date of this event. The trip dates ranged from October to April.

There was one constant in all of those trips—lots of fun and lots of laughter. One of the stories I’ve heard often concerns the time that a generous soul paid for dinner at one of their favorite restaurants. Suddenly, there were funds in the budget for another bottle of wine. I learned many years later that it was Helen’s turn to drive home that night and mistakenly drove down and through a grassy median instead of the proper access to the other side of the highway. Howls of laughter filled the rear of the van. Thankfully, Uber has taken Helen’s place at the wheel.

There was the day when all rode bicycles to lunch. A sudden downpour threatened to soak everyone to the bone on the way home, so the restaurant owner gave them each a plastic bag to wear in place of a raincoat. I have a picture as evidence. They still comment on how cute they were.

Many birthdays were celebrated on those trips. One year, they celebrated Conni’s birthday by hiring two young, handsome, kayak guides to lead them on a kayak expedition through open water to a house owned by Anne’s brother. When they arrived, Brother met them with a tray of glasses filled with champagne. Hours later, the float trip home was a lot more fun.

This year, they decided to add a small amount of levity to the seriousness of the coronavirus situation and decorate face masks should they be necessary. Here’s the picture of that undertaking—cuteness reigns.

There have been many changes in forty years. At first, the event took place over a long weekend. Not surprisingly, it has now stretched to a full week. A new rental replaced the Volkswagen van…still filled with luggage and supplies. Husbands are not required to babysit any longer. In the beginning, they always rented bicycles. This year, they rented tricycles for the first time. The word is, the trikes were a hit.

The changes didn’t affect every aspect of Hilton Head. Helen continues to take a jigsaw puzzle every year. Anne paints and shares her skill by giving classes to all who want them. Posey and Beth keep everyone in good spirits, and Priscilla remains the resident authority on sports and sends out an alert if a game or tournament is on television during the stay. Everyone contributes their favorite recipes and demonstrates their cooking skills on nights spent in the beach house.

I don’t know much more than what is shared here except that as soon as one trip ends, planning for the next one begins. I consider that a beautiful tribute to friends and friendship and the love, regard, and respect that each has for the other. Forty years is a long time, even for the happiest of habits, and I think each would agree that time sure does fly when you’re having fun.