It’s the summer of ’62. I’m seven – with a pixie haircut and bangs Mom cut too short. A green plastic headband keeps the hair out of my face. My front teeth are growing in.

Dad’s climbing up to the rafters of our garage to get our camping gear – a big canvas tent, long poles, stakes, cots and the green Coleman stove. Everything is lined up next to the driveway. His home-made plywood car-top carrier is strapped to the top of our gray Chevy station wagon. My oldest brother Jim is helping load stuff into this box so there will be room in the car for Mom, Dad and us four kids.

Last year we went out west to Mount Rushmore. We saw four dead presidents carved into a mountain. Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln and Teddy Roosevelt. “Why did they pick Teddy Roosevelt?” I asked. “I don’t know, honey,” said Dad.

Mom told us, “When I was nineteen, I came to Mount Rushmore with my girlfriends. We drove out in my cousin Aggie’s Ford. Back then, they let us walk out onto their heads. Looking down, those noses were very big! They were still working on Roosevelt when we were here. It was 1937.”

Mom as a teenager? “Do you have pictures?” I asked.

“Yes, we took lots of black and white photos. Remind me to show them to you.”

After we got home last summer, she showed me her photo album. She was very pretty back then. She wore hats and high-heeled shoes. She was a lot skinnier. Aggie’s car was really old.

But she was right – the presidents’ noses were huge!

This summer we’re going to America’s capital for vacation. I’m excited to go to a city. I like big cities. Saginaw, where we live, is small and boring. The tallest building is the bean elevator for “Jack Rabbit Beans.” They say it’s the tallest bean elevator in the world. Whoop-di-doo. At night, a neon jackrabbit blinks on and off. Double whoop-di-doo.

“Marilyn,” Mom calls from the kitchen window. “Come inside.”

Rats. I don’t want to go inside. It’s more fun to be outside watching them pack stuff in the car. Because I’m the only girl, Mom will want me to help with the food.

She’s made her famous baked beans, which I spoon into big glass jars. I like these beans a lot because they’re sweet and because nobody farts after they eat them. It’s gonna be a long drive.

“Don’t forget the marshmallows,” I remind Mom.

We always make a campfire at night and toast marshmallows on wire coat hangers that Jim straightens out. I’m really good at toasting marshmallows. I always make them brown and soft and gooey, but my brother Bobby likes to catch his on fire. I like to make them, but if I eat too many, I want to puke.

I get the plastic plates, glasses and silverware from the basement. I pack the vinyl tablecloth with the brown and orange flowers. I count the packets of Kool-Aid – seven strawberry and six lemon-lime. I spoon French’s mustard from the jar into the yellow squeeze bottle. I pound the bottom of the Heinz 57 ketchup bottle and thick blobs plop into the red squeeze bottle. Just like the TV commercial says, “It’s the slowest ketchup in town.” I spill some and make a mess on the counter.

“Pay attention to what you’re doing!” says Mom.

”Yes, Mom.” I want to be outside. My brothers always get to do the fun stuff outside and I always have to help my mom since I’m the only girl.

Tonight, Dad and Jim look at the Rand McNally road atlas – again. They talk about I-75 and the Pennsylvania Turnpike. I don’t know what a turnpike is, but you have to pay to get on it. Must be pretty neat! We’re leaving early tomorrow. I can’t wait.

In the morning, Dad goes to Kroger’s to buy a big block of ice to put in the aluminum cooler. The cooler is always the last thing to get loaded in the station wagon. Mom makes us go to the bathroom one more time before we climb into the car. The back seat is folded flat so us three kids have more room and so my 3-year-old brother Ronnie can take a nap while we’re driving.

Jim gets to sit in the front seat with the maps and the movie camera. I always know when we’re passing something neat because Dad slows down so Jim can take a movie through the windshield.

Dad drives through Saginaw, past the Jack Rabbit bean elevator, the toboggan hill at the Water Works and the Michigan Bell Telephone building where he works. We go past the White Horse Bar and Spatz’s Bakery where they make the softest white bread. We drive past Annesley Street where my Mom grew up, but now only black people live there. We get gas at the Sunoco station, and Dad asks the man to check the oil.

Finally, we’re on I-75 passing past corn fields and bean fields and the dinky little airport. One of my favorite things to do is lie in the grass in my backyard and watch planes make white trails criss-crossing in the sky. The big planes that fly really high, not the little planes that fly to Saginaw Airport. Will I ever fly in a plane? Will I ever go anyplace interesting?

We’re still driving. Everything’s green and flat. I spot the sign, “Welcome to Ohio, the Buckeye State.” Dad slows down so Jim can take a movie of the sign. What’s a buckeye?
Dad pulls into a rest stop in Ohio for lunch. Mom unpacks the metal breadbox and makes lunchmeat sandwiches with Spatz’s bread and Miracle Whip. I get to make the strawberry Kool-Aid in the Tupperware pitcher. My brother Bob makes a pink Kool-Aid mustache and spills some on his t-shirt.

“Oh, Bobby, be careful!” scolds Mom.

When she’s not looking, I stick out my strawberry tongue at him. “Na-na-na-nanna … you’re in trouble!” He punches me in the arm.

We climb back into the station wagon. Bobby and I take turns getting truck drivers to blow their horns as we pass them. We roll down the window on the passenger side, put out our arms and pretend we’re pulling on a horn like the ones in the trucks. We wave at the drivers if they honk. Almost all of them do.

Jim gets the movie camera ready for the next sign, “Welcome to Pennsylvania, the Keystone State.” What’s a keystone?

We stop at a booth where a man gives Dad a little ticket. “We’re on the Turnpike now, kids!” he says.

This Turnpike looks exactly the same as that expressway we were just on. Whoop-di-doo. Nothing but trees. Farms. Boring.

We drive forever. It’s hot. I’m so bored.

“Are we there yet?” Bobby asks. He asks that question every ten minutes. Mom and Dad stopped answering him in Ohio.

And then we see another sign: “Welcome to Maryland, the Old Line State.” Whatever that means. I like to brag to my brothers that a state is named after me. Maryland – Marilyn. If you say it fast, it sounds the same.

It’s lots more interesting now. There are even signs telling us how far it is to Washington. 82 more miles. We’re getting close! Traffic’s getting heavier, Dad’s getting nervous and Mom and Jim are looking at maps and arguing about what exit to take.

“Left or right?” asks Dad.

“Left,” Mom says.

“Left?” he repeats.

“Right.”

Dad goes right.

“Nooooo!” she screams.

“But you said right!” hollers Dad. He’s really mad. We kids sit very quiet and still the rest of the way to the campground.

It’s very crowded, but we find a spot to pitch the tent. Lots more campers than at Mount Rushmore. Dad pops open a bottle of Schlitz and is not as mad anymore.

“Can we go see the White House now?” I ask.

“No, honey,” Mom says. “We have to set up camp and fix dinner. We’ll see it tomorrow.”

“I hope Caroline and John-John are home. Maybe we’ll get to see them in their front yard!”

Jim rolls his eyes. “That’s dumb.”

Mom makes ham and baked beans for dinner. We’re way too tired for a campfire and marshmallows tonight.

The next day, we see lots of important buildings. We drive past most of them but stop to take movies of the Capital and the Washington Monument. We see Lincoln and Jefferson and the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. It’s really hot. I’m tired of looking at all these stupid buildings. We go to the White House, but I don’t see anybody in the front yard.

Tonight at the campsite, Dad asks Jim where he wants to go tomorrow. “To see the rockets at The Smithsonian,” Jim says.

“Where do you want to go, Bobby?”

“To the zoo!”

Dad turns to me and asks, “Where would you like to visit, honey?”

“The airport! I want to watch the planes!”

Everybody looks at me funny. I expect my brothers to tease me, but I think they’re sick of all the buildings, too.

After we see the rockets and after the zoo, Dad drives us to National Airport. We park on a road next to a runway. I race over to the chain-link fence just as a big Eastern Airlines jet is zooming down the runway for take-off. Wow! It’s really, really loud. Bobby and I laugh and stick our fingers in our ears. This is so exciting!

A minute later, I look up as another huge plane is coming in for a landing. It’s almost low enough to touch. Bobby jumps up but it’s way too high. Jim is taking movies. Mom is holding Ronnie, who sleeps through just about anything – but not this.

Dad lifts me up onto the dusty hood of the station wagon. I lie on my back and watch the biggest planes I ever saw roar overhead. I’ve never seen so many airplanes in my life! This is the best place ever!

And that’s how I spent my summer vacation.

Originally published in Sonoma Woman magazine.