Pa Kettle

My parents are leaving today for what is possibly the first vacation they will have taken alone together since their honeymoon. When they were missionaries, frivolous travel wasn't something they could afford physically or financially, and then when we kids came along...well, you know how it is.

Anyway, they'll be travelling to visit Dad's family in Arkansas, and then touring the land between the lakes in Kentucky and the bottom edge of Missouri. It will be one of those trips where they stop at all the historical markers and sights (and tackle shops, if I know my father). When we were little, the goal was to get where we were going, which was mostly my fault. I hate stopping along the way, because I hate driving, and I just want to get there already. Now that they're on their own, they can afford to take time to smell the roses, so to speak.

This, then is the perfect time for me to post about my father, because there is little or no chance of him ever reading it. Just in case he ever does read this, (ie Mom's mad at me and shows it to him) I love you, Dad!

The first thing you have to know about my dad, is that he and mom will probably not leave their home today until at least an hour after they have planned. Dad always thinks of things he should've done or brought or checked right before it's time to go. Yes, this bugs me. From the distance of my own family (and car and schedule) I can afford to be amused by it, but it used to annoy me greatly. We would be in the car with it packed, and Dad would say, "Hold on a minute. I forgot I wanted to change the brakes before we left." So, out we all tumble (and grumble) one...more...time.

I remember once leaving our church in Colorado for a trip back home to see Grandma (13 hours away, yes) and after we were actually out of town about half an hour (time means more than miles in the mountains) we had to turn around and go back to the church. Dad had suddenly remembered that the last few inches of water in the baptistery hadn't drained and he wanted to drain it. Why? Because he was afraid someone would break into the church, go up to the baptistery, and drown in what I promise you was less than a foot of water.

All those infant Coloradoan criminals. No one's pacifier is safe. Isn't that the first place you would head if you were breaking and entering?

This post could become interminable, so I will leave the next episode for Friday. I know, I know, you're all hanging onto the edge of your seats. You'll just have to wait.