The Trip Out East - Part One

The path down memory lane is well trodden in this blog.  It’s not that I am living in the past but the past always seems to be lingering.  It could be a smell that takes me back to Oma’s house, a picture that sparks a forgotten funny story, or a taste of something that transports you back to your childhood.  Last week I was at my sister Ally’s house and a song came on that sent my mind and my over active memory reeling back to a family vacation out East.

We were loaded up in the family station wagon.  Becky and Ally were in the back of the station wagon and were setting up Barbie land.  Derek, Scott and I were in the middle bench, Mom was up in the front navigating, and Dad was piloting the old bird.  

Dad was sporting one of his classic sun-visors; Derek had his trusty camouflage hat perched on his head and was wearing a t-shirt with a wolf howling into the moon.  Scott, for some inexplicable reason that still eludes us to this day was a full fledged Montreal Canadiens fan, and was draped with a Habs shirt.  The girls had matching clothes and matching hair accessories.  We were a fine looking bunch and we were ready to explore the Maritimes. 

We said goodbye to the house and headed east.  A large plastic ‘hamburger’ was strapped down on the roof-rack and was jammed with all of our luggage.

The first few hours of the trip flew by.  Before we knew it we were past Toronto and close to the nation’s capital.  It was at this point that the novelty of a long car ride wore off like novocaine.  Things were heating up in Barbie land in the back seat.  

“You’ve had all the best Barbie clothes.  Let’s trade.” demanded Becky.

“Fine.  But I’m not playing anymore.” replied Ally.

The Barbies went from dolls to weapons in a flash.  Dad wisely pulled off at the next exit when he saw Ken coming down on the head of his youngest daughter in the rear-view mirror.  It was time for a pit stop.  

 We were relieved to finally be out of Ontario and into ‘la belle province’ of Quebec.  Derek thought it would be a good time to serenade us all by whistling along with the music.  The rest of us chimed in from time to time with such loving phrases as “Shut-up Derek!” to “Mom, tell Derek to shut-up!”  

As we passed Montreal, Becky decided that the tasteless wad of hubba-bubba gum had to go.  She had been chewing it since Cornwall.  Scott and I had been banished to the backseat and the girls were in the middle with Derek.  Becky rolled down her window and spit her gum out.  It flew out the window but was sucked back by the force field the station wagon was creating.  The huge blob of hot pink hubba-bubba was now stuck to the side window.  Mom and Dad were not impressed.

“That’s it!  No more gum – EVER!” said Dad.

“For crying out loud, that gum’s going to be stuck there till we get to PEI!” echoed Mom.

We learned that day that hubba-bubba chewing gum was resilient stuff.  It was securely affixed to the window and was not going anywhere.  We began to discuss, with a growing sense of certainty, the theory that gum could indeed camp out in your stomach for at least seven years if you swallowed it.  

 No doubt this type intellectual banter made the car ride fly by for Mom and Dad.  After exhausting the subject of hubba-bubba bubble gum, we delved into such deep topics as the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Steve Urkel, why people in Quebec talked funny, and if Timbits were actual donut holes or if they just made them separate.  Whenever silence threatened, we resorted to our favourite Home Alone quotes.  

By the time we hit New Brunswick, Becky and Ally were re-enacting Anne of Green Gables with their Barbies and were mourning the loss of Matthew.  We all paused for a moment of silence as Matthew (played by Ken) was buried in the back glove compartment.

As the trip progressed, the stereo kept getting louder and louder.  It was almost as if Mom and Dad were trying to drown us out.  Michael W. Smith’s First Decade cassette was our favourite and was in danger of wearing out by this point.  We knew every word to every song and all of the back-up parts to boot.  These are the songs today that seem to teleport me back into the station wagon.

Finally after many hours and kilometres, we made it to the ferry crossing.  Prince Edward Island was in our sights.

Stay tuned for part two...

A Tale of Two Sisters

We are currently studying Charles Dicken’s A Christmas Carol at school.  It is one of my favourite pieces of literature and is from one of my favourite periods in history.  Dickens was a masterful writer and wrote many other classics besides A Christmas Carol.  After recently reading about Dickens and some snippets of his popular works, I was reminded of a little Dickensian episode that occurred many years ago.  I was in university where I was trying to become an intellectual (fun fact: still trying).  I had just discovered the Industrial Revolution and this amazing period of British history, when one day at home, the world of Dickens became real to me.

 “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.”  It was a tumultuous time in the Slingerland household.  For some reason that is not known (well I’m sure there is a reason but I didn’t try to find out) it came to be that my two younger sisters, Ally and Becky, were to have their wisdom teeth pulled on the same day.  Perhaps mother found a two-for-one coupon for wisdom teeth pulling.  There was no doubt however, that this was going to be a traumatic event for the girls and for everyone in the home.  Extensive preparations were made.  A gigantic bed was made in the basement in front of the TV.  Anne of Green Gables and Maria Von Trapp were on standby.  Kleenex and pain killers were ready at the bedside.  Jello and pudding were setting in the fridge.  

The day of the appointment arrived and the girls headed out to the mini-van.  Mom gave me some instructions before she shuttled the girls over to the doctor’s office.  “When I get back, you’ll have to help me bring the girls into the house and down to the basement.”  I told her that I would clear my schedule and do my brotherly duty.  In truth, I was looking forward to some excitement and drama.

Later that day...

The mini-van pulled into the driveway and came to a halt by the front sidewalk.  The garage door was opened remotely and Mom got out and went to the passenger side and opened the front door of the van.  She put her hand around Ally’s shoulders and guided her to the house.  Ally’s face was as white as snow, or as Dickens would say, ‘as white as the ghost of Christmas past’.  Mom expertly steered Alison through the garage and into the house.  I helped Mom from there and together we laid Ally down on the couch.  Things looked pretty grim.  I briefly thought about getting a pen and paper for a last will and testament.  Her eyelids fluttered and her mouth was completely swollen.  A solitary tear rolled down her face and then veered off to the side when it hit her chipmunk cheek.  

Our thoughts turned to Becky.  While I checked Ally’s pulse, Mom went back out to the van to get Becky.  Mom slid the side door open and guided Becky out.  I expected to see an ashen and morose Becky emerge from the van, but to my surprise, she just about rolled out of the van.  Even more astonishing was that Becky was laughing hysterically.  Mom propelled goofy Becky into the house and onto the other couch.  

The girls eventually made their way down to their basement bed where they began to watch inordinate amounts of Anne of Green Gables.  When that series was finished, The Sound of Music was slid into the overworked DVD player.  The entire house was then treated to the yodelling of a lonely goat-herd.  

The girls were not quite themselves throughout this healing process.  Becky giggled, laughed, sniggered, cackled, chortled, chuckled, guffawed, and hooted her way to getting better over the next couple of days.  Even when she was in pain, she was laughing.  Ally sniveled, whimpered, bawled, sobbed, and wept her way to getting better.  They made quite the pair – like yin and yang, black and white, or Bert and Ernie.

Besides the DVD’s, we did play a lot of Monopoly.  Because I wasn’t on heavy pain killers, I had a bit of a mental edge on the girls.  

“Hey Becky, look how pretty the purple stripe on Baltic Ave is!  Why don’t you give me Marvin Gardens and I’ll give you Baltic.” 

“Thanks Greg!”  Becky giggled.

 Alison mustered enough strength to give the dice a good toss.  She was rewarded with the ‘free parking’ spot and the jackpot.  As she collected her money, the ‘waterworks’ were turned on.  “I don’t know why I’m crying!” she said.  

Becky rolled the dice and moved the dog along the board.  The dog stopped on my ‘Parkplace’, which also had a nice little hotel on it.  I was pretty impressed with how Becky laughed it off.  I was laughing too. 

Both girls successfully recovered from the trauma of wisdom teeth extraction and were soon back to their normal selves.  To the relief of everyone, Anne of Green Gables and Maria Von Trapp were put back into their cases and left to collect dust.  It truly was the best and worst of times.  The worst in that the girls experienced a lot of pain, Matthew from Anne of Green Gables died (by my count at least 7 times), the Nazi’s annexed Austria, and then there were the crushing Monopoly defeats.  And the best of times, in that the girls did get to spend a lot of time with each other, watched as Anne was accepted by Marilla (by my count at least 7 times), the Von Trapp Singer’s victory at the Salzburg Music Festival, and the privilege of playing Monopoly with their older brother.