NOTE: I’m in the process of (finally) writing my long-promised book! As such, I’ve been doing a lot of digging into old memories. This story was published six years ago … and bears repeating, with some edits and a few more photos unearthed from my archives. Enjoy! Marilyn 7/31/2020
Summertime. 1960s. Saginaw.
It was a ritual of summer:
Dad, up in the rafters of our garage on Glendale Street, rummaging for tent poles and stakes.
Big brother Jim on a ladder, attaching Dad’s homemade wooden car-top carrier to the roof of the steel gray Chevy Impala station wagon.
Mom in the kitchen, cooking up a big batch of her famous fartless baked beans.
Brother Bobby, making mischief. He was 18 months older than me …. always teasing and taunting me – the solo sister.
Ronnie, four years younger than me, just trying to stay out of everybody’s way.
Me? Ready to go. Wishing we would just get in the car and go!
Dad had three weeks of vacation from his job at Michigan Bell Telephone Co. Most summers we’d be going west – toward the mountains. Dad loved his mountains. But before we got there, we had to endure hours and hours of boring plains and prairies and cornfields. Dad always drove with the window rolled down, left arm resting on the window frame. There was no air-conditioning back then … at least not in cars from Michigan. I remember the time he got a blistering sunburn on his arm and had to drive with his forearm swaddled in a towel. No sunscreen back then, either.
Jim sat next to Dad, as the navigator. We should have known he’d be an engineer one day, as he dutifully followed the roadmap from place to place and neatly logged our progress in a notebook. Mom rode shotgun, frequently turning to scold me and Bobby for bickering. (“He started it!”) The back seat folded down to make space for us three younger kids – so we could lie down or play games. Several times a day, we’d take turns pumping our arms out the window as we passed a semi, encouraging the truckers to honk their horns.
My brother Jim (the future engineer) made these signs for the movie camera titles
At lunchtime, Dad would pull into a roadside rest area. Mom would retrieve the flowered tin breadbox, unfold a gingham tablecloth made of oilcloth and fix ham sandwiches with Miracle Whip on Spatz’s white bread. (Spatz’s Bakery is still in business in Saginaw!) Our beverage was always a “Fizzie” – a lozenge that fizzed like an Alka-Seltzer and flavored the water like KoolAid. Sometimes she let us have potato chips. But there were always homemade cookies. Dad loved his cookies.
Basic pantry items for our family camping trip
On travel days, we’d pull into a campground late in the day after driving for 8-10 hours. Bobby and I always lobbied for a campground with a pool, but that almost never happened because Jim had calculated exactly where we would stop. Once at the campground, we searched for the perfect campsite – one that had trees spaced the proper distance apart from which to hang Dad’s hammock. I kept a lookout for the closest water spigot – I was water girl.
We’d set up camp – which was a monstrous, green, smelly canvas tent in the early days – upgrading to a Reliart (that’s “trailer” spelled backwards) pop-up tent camper after a few years of wrestling with tent poles and stakes. There was always a canvas tarp to provide cover for our outdoor kitchen, dining room and living room.
Required gear (clockwise from top left): Chevy station wagon, metal bread box, Reliart camper trailer, Coleman 2-burner camp stove.
Dad would attach the gas tank to the green Coleman stove, pump it a bunch of times and light the burners with his Zippo lighter. I was sent off in search of water and Bob would find kindling for the campfire. Dad and Jim hauled out the heavy aluminum cooler with the almost-melted block of ice. I set the table with our special plastic dishes, stored in a homemade custom-built plywood cupboard. Dad would settle into his hammock, smoking a cigarette.
Within an hour of pulling into the campground, ham slices were sizzling in the cast iron skillet alongside a pan of Mom’s famous fartless baked beans.
I can hear it, smell it … taste it – like it was yesterday!
Aaaahhhh . . . memories! What were the summertime vacation rituals in your family?
pssst: Wanna know Mrs. Murphy’s secret recipe for fartless beans? Here it is!
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11 Comments
Yvonne Restine-San Diego NECA Chapter July 3, 2014 at 1:34pm
Good morning Marilyn,
I’d love the baked bean recipe! Great memory told!
Happy 4th of July,
Yvonne
Michelle dennis July 3, 2014 at 1:44pm
This is awesome aunt Marilyn. Although I hate baked beans, I am always interested in baked beans for dan and Collin. They eat “brown beans”‘ as Collin calls them in my house and my daughters always follow with an “ewwwww!” I love reading your posts about family life growing up! Since it is my family it is so easy to transport myself into the story! I can just see my dad doing all that you wrote! He still does so much that you write about today! Calculating all his directions with a map and showing the path traveled, keeping a log etc. I try to show him the “modern way” with GPS or asking “seri” on my iPhone to show him how easy it is to get directions just by asking aloud to the phone. He just kind of says “oh” and I am always dumbfounded that he is not jumping up and down excited to see how easy it is so he would never have to dig out another impossible to fold dated map with handwritten markings all over it. Then I have since realized, this is my dad…why would I want that to change for him…he clearly doesn’t care about a dumb computer voice on my iPhone, that is not his way…maps and calculating are his thing and something’s will never change…love the memories! Keep sharing!
Mis
Michelle dennis July 3, 2014 at 1:47pm
By the way… Today is his birthday! He is supposed to head to up the cottage on houghton lake with my sisters family and mine for the weekend! Hoping for so much fun watching all the cousins play together and hours of jumping off the dock into the water. Hope you have a blast this Fourth of July too!
Joe July 3, 2014 at 1:51pm
I enjoyed reading about your childhood vacation memories. Thank you for sharing. It is nice to reflect back to a fun and more simple time.
Rhonda Grissom July 3, 2014 at 1:52pm
Hi Marilyn,
I love your stories. This last one reminds me of some of my own childhood vacations. We too headed out west in an unairconditioned car. And I would love to have the bean recipe!
Happy 4th,
Rhonda Grissom
Jill Tatman July 3, 2014 at 3:39pm
Okay, Ms. Marilyn it’s a cardinal sin not to post recipes! I would love the recipe. Thanks in advance!
Deborah July 3, 2014 at 5:51pm
I love this one! Brings back so many childhood memories.
Shirley July 3, 2014 at 5:56pm
Oh Marilyn,
These could be my memories, except I’m an only child… I’m from Northern California and it was Trinity Lake, Shasta and Tahoe too crowded. The tent… coleman… and I didn’t think anyone else’s mother served Miracle Whip! I still do! Thanks for the memories
Jill Stoliker July 4, 2014 at 8:45pm
Would your Mother’s old recipe be filed in the “recipe box” under F for “famous fartless” or under B for “baked beans”? Yes, I do need a copy of that recipe, please.
Most of my childhood summer vacations started in Minnesota, riding in a Ford car driven by my Mother and Step-Father to a “National Rural Letter Carriers Convention”, visiting family and friends along the way, and spending several days in a “tent-cabin” at a National Park. Thanks for reminding me, Jill Stoliker
Diane Bowen July 7, 2014 at 4:53pm
All my Mom’s family lived in Omaha. My Dad put us on the train each summer to go back to Omaha, his promise for moving to CA. In August my Dad drove back to pick us up and stayed a week or two more. Driving between Omaha and Pasadena we saw everything in the north, south and west of Omaha! Each trip we took a different route home stopping at all the national parks and any tourist site along the way. We stayed in little motels, and my mom would ask to see the room before we decided to stay. We too wanted a pool, a luxury back then. We had no air, but I remember the first swamp cooler that could be hooked to the back window! When I got to be 14 I stayed home and “took care” of my Dad and drove back–a straight through trip!
Ron July 10, 2014 at 11:05pm
Great memories sis! thanks!