Chris Loehmer Kincaid's Blog, page 6

My Brother, Part 2

Last Friday, I shared with you the sadstory of what my brother’s life is like now. And on Wednesday, I alluded to histime in the service. Here is the rest of that story.

My brother, Tom, served in the US Armyfrom 1965 to 1967. As you may have read in my post from earlier this week, wedrove to New York in June 1967 to visit him when he was stationed at WestPoint.

Somehow, he dodged the bullet which tookso many others to Vietnam. But before his cushy job as an MP at the militaryacademy, he was dispatched to the Dominican Republic, where he did dodgebullets.

Ever since I could remember, the onlymilitary conflict I heard about my entire childhood was the war in Vietnam. Butother places in the world were also embroiled in tension.

The Caribbean paradise of the DominicanRepublic was a mess for many years. From 1930 to 1961, it was ruled by aruthless dictator who used repression, torture, and murder to keep the massesin line. When this guy was assassinated in 1961, you would think things wouldsettle down, but not when his son and other relatives tried to keep control.After several coups and many deaths, the US deployed troops to the island inApril 1965 to keep the peace.

And my brother showed up early thefollowing year. His role was that of a driver; whether driving militarydignitaries around or picking up the payroll at the airport, it was the job ofTom and his partner to get it done.

As Tom has told the story, one time, theypicked up the payroll and were driving back to base with it. The payroll wasall in cash, in American dollars, so that the servicemen would have quickaccess to it. Also, I thought all military bases had their own airport, but inthis case, the airport where they picked up the payroll was several miles away.

As they drove out of the airport in theirJeep, local rebels started following them. They could only assume it wasbecause the rebels knew what they were carrying. When these guys with machineguns began shooting at them, their assumptions proved to be correct.

I don’t remember if Tom ever said who wasbehind the wheel, but one of them drove like a madman back to base while theother kept firing rounds at their pursuers.

They made it safely back to base, and theheavy chain-link gate slamming shut behind them was music to their ears.

Tom even got a commendation for it. Maybehe didn’t serve his country in Vietnam or fight to keep the communists at bay,but he still served the men and women on that base, all of them, just doingtheir jobs in the name of freedom for someone.

But what is heartbreaking is that we had to take away his truck to keep him from ever drivingagain.

A Really Big Waterfalls

Here we are on Chapter 5 of my Journal of our Journeys. Unfortunately, I don't have any pictures of the really big waterfall from that trip. This snapshot of my favorite falls, O-Kun-de-Kun, will have to do.  

Thefirst big trip we took in the new camper was to New York State. We visited mybrother Tom, who was stationed as an MP at West Point, and then we went to seeNiagara Falls. It was June 1967. I never realized until many years later howclose this journey took us to New York City.

As a kid, I was wildly in love with the TrixieBeldon mystery series. I thought the coolest thing would be to livewhere the Beldons, Wheelers, and all their friends lived in the Hudson Valleynorth of the Big Apple. I never knew that I had actually been through the areawhere my childhood fictitious heroine lived. I’m sure this information wouldhave freaked me out when I was twelve and reading about another girl’sadventures. Now, I’m just amazed that I was that geographically challenged.Didn’t my parents ever show me an atlas?

Anyway, the trip took us through Indiana,Ohio, and Pennsylvania. I remember next to nothing of West Point and absolutelynothing of my brother’s role there. He was 21; I was just a kid, a punk, noteven in kindergarten.

A lifetime later, when I mentioned it tomy husband, he was impressed that my brother had gone to West Point. I hadnever thought much about it. So what? Tom was at the prestigious militaryacademy. As a kid, I didn’t know what West Point was and never thought moreabout it.

Well, no, he wasn’t a cadet there.Heavens, no. He’d been sent to Fort Bragg for basic training and then to theDominican Republic to drive around important officers and deliver the payroll.From there, he worked for the military police on the West Point campus.

But I knew none of that at the time.

I do remember Niagara Falls, though. I canstill hear the thunder of millions of gallons of water rushing over the edge ofrock eons old. The ground underfoot shook from the power of it. I can see thelights they turned on at night, illuminating the falls in a rainbow of color.

Dad took my sister Pat on a trip under thefalls; I was too little to go. The story of my life was being left behind withMom while Pat did something cool with Dad. Pat was all excited about it, butshe never admitted until 20 years later that it had scared the wits out of her.

We returned via Canada, crossing intoOntario at Niagara Falls and coming back through Michigan and its UpperPeninsula.

It became a quest during the 1980s and1990s for my sisters and me to visit every waterfall within a two-hundred-mileradius of where we lived. Even the tiniest trickle of water tumbling downstreamwas a fascination and a photo op. The smaller waterfalls were usually thebetter ones, with fewer people, often no people, just lots of peace andstillness, except for the hypnotic sound of water. If we had to climb atreacherous trail or slide down a slippery slope to get to that waterfall, allthe better. We were always game.

Niagara Falls was certainly the biggestwaterfall I’ve ever seen, but would I return there? With all the congestion andcommercialism? I will take a ten-foot waterfall in the woods in the middle ofnowhere. But the passion of it all may have begun for me at that New York statetourist trap.

The Martyring of Stephen

        

           Stephen, a man full of God’s grace andpower, performed amazing miracles and signs among the people. But one day somemen started to debate with him. They were Jews from Cyrene, Alexandria,Cilicia, and the province of Asia. None of them could stand against the wisdomand the Spirit with which Stephen spoke. (Acts 7:8-10, New Living Translation)

AfterStephen shared with these men about their Jewish heritage, from Abraham toMoses to David, he finished with the following verses.

“You stubborn people! You are heathen atheart and deaf to the truth. Must you forever resist the Holy Spirit? That’swhat your ancestors did, and so do you! Name one prophet your ancestors didn’tpersecute! They even killed the ones who predicted the coming of the RighteousOne—the Messiah whom you betrayed and murdered. You deliberately disobeyedGod’s law, even though you received it from the hands of angels,” Stephen said.(Acts 7:51-53, NLT)

 

Andthis was their reaction.

          

The Jewish leaders were infuriated byStephen’s accusation, and they shook their fists at him in rage. But Stephen,full of the Holy Spirit, gazed steadily into heaven and saw the glory of God,and he saw Jesus standing in the place of honor at God’s right hand. And hetold them, “Look, I see the heavens opened and the Son of Man standing in theplace of honor at God’s right hand!”

Then they put their hands over their earsand began shouting. They rushed at him and dragged him out of the city andbegan to stone him. His accusers took off their coats and laid them at the feetof a young man named Saul.

          As they stoned him, Stephen prayed,“Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.” He fell to his knees, shouting, “Lord, don’tcharge them with this sin!” And with that, he died. (Acts 7:54-60, NLT)

Beingstoned to death must have been horrific. I can’t imagine how terrifying andpainful, but Stephen’s faith did not waver. Could any of us continue to testifythat Jesus is our Savior as we fell to our death?

Stephenwas the first of many believers to be martyred in the Bible, and many morewould follow, many at the hands of this man Saul. Do you remember him? And whohe became? 

Saul was one of the witnesses, and heagreed completely with the killing of Stephen.

A great wave of persecution began thatday, sweeping over the church in Jerusalem; and all the believers except theapostles were scattered through the regions of Judea and Samaria. (Some devoutmen came and buried Stephen with great mourning.) But Saul was going everywhereto destroy the church. He went from house to house, dragging out both men andwomen to throw them into prison. (Acts 8:1-3, NLT)

Hopefullyyou’ve already heard of this guy Saul, and if not, you can read about himhere next week.

My Brother Tom

 

          I've wanted to share this story for a while now, but it's been too close tohome, too raw. Every day, sometime between ten a.m. and two p.m., it feels likethe scab gets ripped off, and I'm left bleeding again.

         I've been praying, sometimes pleading, with God to lift this burden and grantpeace to me and those surrounding me in this struggle. And just when I wasready to throw in the towel, God gifted me with a miracle.  

         As you may know, my brother Tom is fraught with dementia, and I'm struggling tokeep him – and myself – together. Once he gets up for the day, between 10 and 2, he could call me six to eight times to tell me the same thing, or to tell me eight different things. We've decided that he has to go into assisted living, and hismedical providers wholeheartedly agree.

         I visited a facility here in town last week and thought it would be a good fitfor him. In the past, I've mentioned to him that we should get more care for him and that maybe he isn't safe at home alone anymore. He hasmet those suggestions with angry defiance.

         Tuesday afternoon, we had an appointment for him to tour this facility. Myheart banged against my chest when I picked him up to drive him there. I didn'ttell him where we were going until we were on our way.

         I opened with something like, "Tom, I have to tell you something, and youare not going to like it, but I want you to just listen."

         So, I reminded him that the plumber had been to his house the day before, thathe needed his well worked on, and that his water wasn't safe to drink until itwas fixed. That was the truth.

         Then I told him a few fibs - long stretches of the truth. It would take acouple of weeks for them to fix the problem, and he would not have any waterduring that time. And that they would have to clean out all his water pipes inthe house, which could cause poisonous gases to be in the air.  

         He agreed, mostly saying that they have to do whatever they can to fix hiswater.

         I continued, with words as slow and even as I could. He would need to move outof his house then for a few weeks until the plumber was done, and I had foundhim a nice place to live, where he would have his own room, his own TV, and asmall refrigerator to keep his Mountain Dew. This place would prepare andserve him three meals a day, and even wash his clothes, clean his room, andhelp him shower once a week. (Not showering has been our biggest point ofcontention, as he claims it is NOT healthy to be clean.)

         He actually listened to everything I said. And when I was done, he answered,"That would be great."

         Tears popped into my eyes. I couldn't believe it. Praise God, praise AlmightyGod in heaven.

         We toured the place, and he picked out a room just inside the lobby, where a TVwas only steps away. He said he wouldn't need a TV in his room if he couldwatch that one. He asked how much the meals were, and we assured him they wereincluded in the price. And how much is this place, he asked. I told him it wasbeing taken care of, between his monthly social security check and money fromthe VA through their Aid and Attendance program.

         All the way home, we talked about it, and he still seemed on board.

         When I got him back to his house, though, he asked when his truck would be donein the shop (where he believes it has been for two months, waiting for repairs,when it has been in my yard most of the time).

         I told him that once his water is safe to use again, in two weeks, maybe histruck would be ready too, and he could move back to his house and drive histruck again (which is NOT going to happen, but if you've dealt with anyone withdementia, you know it doesn't pay to argue with them; tell them what makes themhappy and move on).

         He was fine when I left him that afternoon and has been in a good mood sincethen.

         A miracle. An answer to prayer!

         But then God said, "I'm not done yet."

         Shortly after I got home, Hubby's orthopedic surgeon's office called. He hadbeen scheduled for shoulder replacement on June 10, but it was bumped back toAugust 12 because of an infection in his tooth. We were worried that surgerythat late in the summer would mean he couldn't drive the bus yet when schoolstarted a few weeks later. Plus, he's been in a lot of pain and just wantedthis shoulder fixed.

          The woman on the phone said they wouldhave to cancel his surgery in August as the doctor would be out of the office.

          "Okay," I numblyreplied. 

          And God was about to chime in,"Gotcha!" when I heard the words, "But we can move the surgeryup to July 30 if that would work for you guys."

          I said, "Yes, of course, thatwould be perfect," and wanted to add that you could have opened with that.

          God chuckled and thought to Himself,"I'm still not done."

          This might sound so minor, but itstill means so much to me.

          While I was on the phone withorthopedics, I had another call. When I checked messages, it was Home Healthcalling to schedule an appointment to visit Tom. But this justwasn't any nurse; this was a woman I had frequent contact with when I worked atthe clinic. Anyone who has gone through stress like I have over the last twomonths knows that a familiar name and voice can make such a difference.

          There you have it. I have rambled onfor long enough. But I need to let you know that there is a loving, caring God,Who listens to your every prayer, Who knows what you are going through and willlift you out of your despair when the time is right. Don't ever give up onHim. 

(The portrait was taken in 1991, as a Christmas present to our parents from my brother, both sisters, and me. Before ugly sweaters was a thing.)

 

The Dells through a child's eyes

Chapter 4 - The Dells

Ourfirst trip in the new camper was a weekend getaway to Wisconsin Dells.Now, it is known as the Water Park Capital of the World, but in 1966, it was acalm, restful place for parents to let their young children discover all thatis kitschy, while Mom and Dad try to absorb the natural surroundings of rockand water.

          Henry Hamilton Bennett is creditedwith putting the area on the map. In the late 1800s, when the Dells was calledKilbourn City, Bennett began taking photographs of the natural wonders alongthe Wisconsin River. He experimented with new and innovative photography andchanged many aspects of how pictures were captured. As word spread of theamazing photographs he sold, tourists began journeying to Kilbourn City to seethese places for themselves.

          H. H. Bennett Studio is still on MainStreet, and as part of the National Register of Historic Places, it serves as ahistorical museum.

          In the 1920s, enough Americans ownedautomobiles that they could truly flock to The Dells. In the first half of thetwentieth century, the beauty of the Dells themselves, the rock formationscarved by thousands of years of the rush of the Wisconsin River and the work ofglaciers were what people came to see. The famous ducks, amphibious vehiclesengineered and first used by the military, would ferry tourists across land anddirectly into the water for scenic views of the area beginning in the late1940s.

          By the 1950s various entrepreneurs sawopportunities to expand the tourist attractions. One of the first suchattractions was Storybook Gardens and Mother Goose Land. These beautifullylandscaped grounds had life-size figures from all the beloved fairy tales of myyouth. There was a little cottage with statues of the three bears, waitingto greet any girl willing to be their Goldilocks. There was the wallHumpty Dumpty sat on precariously. There were three men in a tub in the middleof a pond. Many more settings from children's stories dotted the grounds.

          When my family visited the Dells in1966, Pat and I ran from one fairytale scene to the next. We pretended toeat porridge with the bear family and carried on imaginary conversations withsome statute children outside a giant shoe. We climbed the crooked ladderto the roof of the crooked home of the crooked man and his crooked wife andslid down the crooked slide.

Storybook Gardens closed in 2010, and thelocal fire department burned down the big boat at the entrance the followingyear as part of their training exercises. It's a shame that today's childrendon't have the chance to live out fairytales like my generation did. It's ashame that their idea of fun is going down the waterslide over and over againwithout using any imagination. Do they even know about Mother Goose?

          For me, though, since I can't swim, itwould always be enough to frolic in the grass and pretend that I was Little RedRiding Hood.

Anyone who has seen any pictures of Wisconsin Dells, has seen these iconic formations. When H.H. Bennett started photographing the area, he took pictures of his son jumping across this space. Now they have a German Shepherd do it. And there is a net underneath him. I took this pictures in October of 2021 when Hubby and I spent a weekend in the Dells. 

The Coming of the Holy Spirit (aka The Tongues of Fire story)

Today,I’m writing about the time that the Holy Spirit came on the disciples by placingflames of fire on their heads, allowing them to speak in other languages. Crazy,right? But two weeks ago, I shared the Great Commission, where Jesus told Hisdisciples to go out and spread His word to all peoples in all lands. Challengingto do when you don’t speak the language.

It'sa long passage, so I took a few verses out.

(fromActs chapter 2, verses 1-12, 14, 22-24, 32-33, 36-40 in the New Century Version)

When the day of Pentecost came, they wereall together in one place. Suddenly a noise like a strong, blowing wind camefrom heaven and filled the whole house where they were sitting. They sawsomething like flames of fire that were separated and stood over each personthere. They were all filled with the Holy Spirit, and they began to speakdifferent languages (or tongues) by the power the Holy Spirit was giving them.

There were some religious Jews staying inJerusalem who were from every country in the world. When they heard this noise,a crowd came together. They were all surprised, because each one heard themspeaking in his own language. They were completely amazed at this. They said,“Look! Aren’t all these people that we hear speaking from Galilee? Then how isit possible that we each hear them in our own languages? We are from differentplaces: Parthia, Media, Elam, Mesopotamia, Judea, Cappadocia, Pontus, Asia, Phrygia,Pamphylia, Egypt, the areas of Libya near Cyrene, Rome, Crete, and Arabia. Butwe hear them telling in our own languages about the great things God has done!”They were all amazed and confused, asking each other, “What does this mean?”

          

But Peter stood up with the elevenapostles, and in a loud voice he spoke to the crowd: “My fellow Jews, and allof you who are in Jerusalem, listen to me. Pay attention to what I have to say.

“People of Israel, listen to these words:Jesus from Nazareth was a very special man. God clearly showed this to you bythe miracles, wonders, and signs he did through Jesus. You all know this,because it happened right here among you. Jesus was given to you, and with thehelp of those who don’t know the law, you put him to death by nailing him to across. But this was God’s plan which he had made long ago; he knew all thiswould happen. God raised Jesus from the dead and set him free from the pain ofdeath, because death could not hold him.

“So Jesus is the One whom God raised fromthe dead. And we are all witnesses to this. Jesus was lifted up to heaven andis now at God’s right side. The Father has given the Holy Spirit to Jesus as hepromised. So Jesus has poured out that Spirit, and this is what you now see andhear.

“So, all the people of Israel should knowthis truly: God has made Jesus—the man you nailed to the cross—both Lord andChrist.”

When the people heard this, they feltguilty and asked Peter and the other apostles, “What shall we do?”

Peter said to them, “Change your heartsand lives and be baptized, each one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ for theforgiveness of your sins. And you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. Thispromise is for you, for your children, and for all who are far away. It is foreveryone the Lord our God calls to himself.”

Peter warned them with many other words.He begged them, “Save yourselves from the evil of today’s people!”

Thankfully,our missionaries who go out in the world today have the opportunity to learnthe languages of the people they are teaching. Or at least have been educatedin how to learn a new language directly from native speakers. I give them allcredit; I’ve tried learning other languages, but somedays plain regular Englishis enough of a challenge.

(The picture is from a Christmas Eve candlelightservice at my church. No flames above anyone’s head; just flames from our candles.)

Be Safe Today and Everyday

Oh,boy, it's Friday the 13th. Anyone with suspicions out there? If I did, I wouldhave to believe that every day of the last two and a half years was a Fridaythe 13th and a full moon besides.

ButI have something rather unexpected to share.

First,here's another question. Do you know where asbestos comes from? Think about ita minute before you read on because I had NO idea, none whatsoever.

Hubbyand I watched an episode of Mysteries of the Abandoned last night. They starteach segment with a series of clues to the location they are at and let you tryto figure out what this mammoth abandoned structure had once been used for.

Once,they had an iron ore dock, like the one that used to be in Ashland, Wisconsin.I can't remember what country that one was in, but I was pretty excited that Iknew instantly what it was.

Mural of the Ashland Ore Dock, which was taken down around 2010.

Okay,so last night's ruins, which threw me for a loop, were located on the borderbetween South Africa and Eswatini (which I had never heard of before but whichused to be Swaziland). The Havelock Mine was initially started for mining gold,but when that didn't pan out (pun intended), they realized something even morevaluable was in the ground. A group of naturally occurring, fibrous silicateminerals, which were useful in insulation and commonly used in buildingmaterials prior to the 1980s, when we all realized it was toxic andcarcinogenic. Yikes!

So,back to that question above, did you know that asbestos is a natural substance?Or, like me, did you think it was manufactured from a bunch of other things,which, when combined, turned out to cause mesothelioma and lung cancer? And canyou imagine how sick all those workers got? They did, and there were manylawsuits, before the mine finally closed. But sadly, I read that only 66countries have banned the use of asbestos and it is still mined in some places.

I'mjust sharing this tidbit of information today. Have a good weekend, stay safe,and don't push your luck by messing with any insulation made in the seventiesor before.  

Sweet Ride of my Childhood

Last week I told you about the vehicle my parents and siblings took to California. Today, I introduce you to the sweet ride of my childhoot. 

Chapter 3 -  The Pickup Camper

In1966, Dad bought an aqua-blue Chevrolet Pickup truck with a standardtransmission, a white roof, and white stripes down the sides. The whitestripes must have been standard on all vehicles in the 1960s because every caror truck we owned during that era seemed to have them.

          When we went for trips in the newpickup, Pat and I sat in the front seat between Mom and Dad. I didn’t know ofany extended cabs or trucks with backseats. One of us kids would use the widemetal clip of the seat belt to “shave” the stick shift. We’d slowly movethe metal clip across the black ball of the shift, listening to the click,click, click sound and feeling the vibration as we traveled down the road at 40to 50 miles an hour. At such speeds, no one ever wore a seat belt orthought of it as anything but a nuisance (if you were Mom) or as an electricshaver (if you were a five-year-old).

          Along with the new truck came aHiawatha pickup camper. It was the coolest thing I had ever seen. Ithad a small refrigerator, stove, sink, furnace, and toilet in acloset. The dinette folded down to make a bed for Mom and Dad, and to thisday, I have no idea how they slept in such a minute space. Pat and I hadthe best sleeping arrangements; we got the bed over the cab of the truck.

          We not only slept there, we playedthere, and when traveling down the road, we lay there on our bellies watchingout the front window, a magical land of the unexplored rushing towardsus. We waved at every passing motorist and pedestrian who would look ourway. Sometimes, we wrote up signs to flash at these people, somethingbenign and amazingly original, such as “hi” or “smile.”

          It never occurred to anyone that allit would take was for Dad to slam on the brakes and our two dense heads wouldcrash through the window. Our flailing bodies would fly through the airstraight into an oncoming Buick.

          Mom and Dad were not, however, totallyunconcerned about our safety. They laid down one rule for us.

          It was the law of the land, which wewere never to break, that when the truck was moving, the door at the back ofthe camper was locked, and we were under no circumstance to get within threefeet of it. The edge of the dinette marked as far as we couldgo. After that, the closet on the left, the enclosed toilet on the right,and the door straight ahead meant certain death, for we were sure to fall outonto the pavement to be crushed by a passing semi if we went near the door whenthe truck was moving.

          Other than that, we had free reinwithin the camper. On rare occasions, we’d play cards at the table as werode down the road, but more often than not, we’d instead crawl to the bedabove the cab. To view all the wonders of our world.

A Tail of Two Pups

 

I can’t remember what year it was, but I’mgoing to guess close to ten years ago, when we were camping at Mclain StatePark in the UP one July. We pulled into the parking lot on the other end of thepark and let Dino, our wonder dog, out of the SUV. He was good about stayingnear, so I hadn’t put his leash on him yet. For some crazy reason, he trottedover to the only other vehicle in the lot and jumped in the front seat of theircar.

The owners of the car were good-naturedabout it, and after many apologies, I had Dino under my control again.

Flash forward to this past Sunday. Dinohas been gone nearly two and a half years, but he lives on.  

An Amazon car pulled into our yard todeliver a package. Hannah was in the yard and got to him before either Hubby orme. She was ready to launch herself into his vehicle. This is the dog who wasterrified of getting in any vehicle only two months ago, but apparently, Dino’sspirit connected with her.

Our Corgi, Hannah, was born just a fewdays after Dino crossed the rainbow bridge. She has his soul, and it’s obviouswhere she will live out all of her days.

The Long Trip West

 Last Wednesday, I started the Journal of our Journeys. This week, I take a look even farther back, back before I was officially part of the family. I missed out on a great trip, but at least I got to hear the stories. 

Chapter 2 - " The CaliforniaTrip"

BeforeI was born, but a few months after I was conceived, the rest of my immediatefamily took what is now known as the "Trip toCalifornia." Because I wasn't there (not really), I may never understandwhy this trip still lives on so strongly in family history. But ask any of thesurviving members, and they will get this look on their faces as if they aresavoring some delicious German chocolate.

It was the summer of 1961. My sister Pathad just turned two years old and had long honey-colored hair and bangs. Herbody was round with baby fat, making her look too short and pudgy to be able towalk. There was always an innocent smile on her face.

My brother Tom and other sister Judy wouldhave been 15 and 13, respectively. They were good kids, by most accounts,passed down over the years, but times were different then, and most kids wereclassified as "good." Especially if compared to today'sadolescents.

Mom, in her mid-30s, was still thin. I'veanalyzed trip pictures and sure couldn't tell she was pregnant. As was thefashion for women of the day, she usually wore dresses, often even whilecamping. Her hair was permed and all brown, with no gray showing through.She wore cat-eye glasses, which were only slightly less fashionable thanJudy's.

Dad had jet-black hair and was heavierthan in later years. But he was never overweight, just muscular, solid. Thoughquiet and unassuming, he still carried a debonair air about him, which none ofhis kids inherited. When you could get him to smile, or he had a good cribbagehand, only one side of his mouth lifted mischievously.

The vehicle they drove on this trip hadbeen a mystery to me for many years. The family referred to it with greataffection - The Greenbrier. I always, for some bizarre reason, pictured that ithad to be green, and could never figure out why, when looking at home movies, Inever saw them drive anything green.

Then, one day, when looking more closelyat one of these 8mm movies, I noticed the maroon and white van, which resembleda VW bus, had an emblem on its side, which appeared to be the word"Greenbrier.” I was amazed as well as humbled.

Why did I think the green in the titlecame from its color? Greenbrier was only the name of the model made byChevrolet. This maroon vehicle with a white stripe took center stage in a greatmany home movies of the time, so it only made sense that it was the Greenbrierof California trip fame.

Chevrolet introduced the GreenbrierSportswagon in 1961, and Mom and Dad must have gone right out and bought one. Itwas modeled after the VW bus, which began production in 1950 and was verypopular. Surprisingly, in road tests, the Chevrolet wagon proved to have morepower than the Volkswagen, but like the German vehicle, it had its engine inthe rear. Production of the Greenbrier was discontinued in December 1964, partway into the 1965 model. In all, a total of 57,986 had been produced, and therestill are a few on the road.

But I do have to admit, the new VW bus,known as the Buzz, is absolutely adorable. Unfortunately, it is only availablein an electric model (I won't get into my thoughts on that here, though). (Oh,and it is also way out of my price range.)

Dad, being ever inventive, built beds inthe Greenbrier for sleeping. Thus, Mom and Pat slept in the Greenbrier, whileDad, Tom, and Judy slumbered in the tent.

The tent could be a whole story in itself.It was certainly not today's nylon dome model. Instead, it was an"umbrella tent" named such because of a pole that stood in themiddle, rods thrusting out of it supporting the ceiling. It was an old canvascreature of military issue, drab olive green, heavy, and smelly. And when itwas wet – it was even smellier.

I remember the tent well because, afterits important role in the California trip, it resided for years, wrapped inrope, taking up a lot of room in the space above our garage. Occasionally, itwould still go camping, but more commonly, Dad pitched it in the backyard as afort for Pat and me. Unfortunately, Mom was scared to let us sleep in itbecause bears occasionally wandered through our yard.

The sleeping bags they used were just asweighty, malodourous, and the same olive green. Dad must have gotten a deal oncamping equipment at the Army surplus store.

Other than that, I don't know what theytook with them, what route they drove, or how long they were gone. They covereda lot of ground, traveling through Iowa, Nebraska, Utah, Oregon. They alsodrove through the mountains and through a giant sequoia in Yosemite, literally. Theyate their meals outside and brushed their teeth outside. They frolicked in thePacific Ocean.

They took other trips, as family moviesand black and white snapshots will attest. Among the places they visited wereSt. Augustine in Florida, Monticello in Virginia and Lake of the Clouds inMichigan’s Upper Peninsula.

It certainly was a simpler time, a timewhen a family was Mom, Dad, and the kids. And they spent time together. Notthis quality time versus quantity time debate of today's harried family. Justtime. And that was all they had.

(The picture is of Tom with the Greenbrier in our yard, taken, I think, shortly before this trip. Click this link if you want to fall in love with this vechicle. )