Other than “semi-annual sale,” “spicy jalapeño margarita” and maybe “molten lava chocolate,” there really isn’t a three word combination that makes me smile more than “summer family vacation.” Pure childhood nostalgia washes over me as I can almost feel the heat emanate from my sunburned shoulders, taste the Dairy Queen soft serve vanilla/chocolate swirl with chocolate dip top, melting oh so exquisitely on my tongue, and hear lawnmowers buzzing all day long while cicadas chirp incessantly. I swear I can smell my delicious pina colada scented sunscreen mixed with Deep Woods Off, a concoction that creates something intoxicating and, most likely, coma inducing. My senses crash together in a crescendo of sheer joy as I recall the summer family vacation.

Nostalgia is often much like childbirth; somehow we only remember the joy and never the agony, because if we did, we’d never do it again…

My family spent two years in Guam when I was very young and going to a beach every day for two years, will make a water rat and ocean lover out of anyone. To this day, the smell of hibiscus and Coppertone brings me right back to being five years old on a beach in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. As a family who spent time on a pacific island, it makes sense that I was brought up as a beach kid who loved the summer. My family accepted the fall, suffered through winter, spent the spring in a constant state of anticipation, and reveled in summer. My grandmother had a house on the Jersey Shore and we spent many weeks over the years there. One summer, we tried Cape Cod, but after a few years on Guam, water temperatures in the 60’s weren’t going to cut it, and so my parents, based on advice from my aunt, headed to the Outer Banks of NC. Our first year there was the summer of 1976.

I remember leaving our house in the middle of the night, crammed into the non air-conditioned car and sitting atop a cooler. At least my perch saved me from having to sit on the vinyl seats where one could easily peel the skin off the backs of one’s thighs when attempting to exit the car. The house we rented had dark paneling, no phones, and, alas, no air conditioning. There was an adorable grocery store called “Wee Winks” where you could go in barefoot and buy food, drinks and paperbacks. That summer, I read, “Are You There God, It’s Me, Margaret,” and also polished off a couple of Nancy Drew’s. We did puzzles on a screened porch with a fan whirring overhead, went out to dinner at Seafare where I begged for a beagle over my hush puppies. We played mini golf as sweat poured off of us, and watched as my mother had to lift my brother over a fence to pee only to have to grab him up again in order to save him from what sounded like the dog from “The Sandlot.” We swam for hours, I got chafe on my thighs, we couldn’t drink the water from the taps, it was 10,000 degrees, we all got eaten alive by mosquitoes the size of wasps and the water in “the cottage” turned my mom’s hair orange. It was magical.

The following year, we headed to Disney World. My dad’s company had played some role in the construction of Space Mountain, so we all got to go for the opening. To spare the expense of flying and looking for a bit of adventure, my mother booked us all onto the Autotrain. My grandmother joined us for this journey of a lifetime, and finally, the day arrived. At my mother’s insistence, we were all dressed appropriately for such luxurious travel; I wore a lime yellow, floral pantsuit made entirely of polyester. My brother had some brown Levis with a matching striped shirt and my little sister was all decked out in a dress and party shoes. My mom had her very in fashion hip huggers on and my dad wore a light blue Levi action suit with a blue silk shirt underneath. Nana was in a dress, girdle, bra, stockings and heels. Giddy with excitement, we arrived early; mom is a planner, and so we loaded our s**t brown Grand Torino (still no a/c) onto the train and boarded. Admittedly when that train got rolling, it had all the bells and whistles and seemed like the beginning of our awesome adventure. My brother was so excited, he kept running up and down from our car to the dining car, I felt like I was in an Agatha Christie novel, and we all looked very dapper. Then my brother started vomiting, and vomiting, and vomiting. Nana’s legs swelled up like tree trunks. The dining car was soooo far away and trying to sleep sitting up on this thing as we hurtled down the tracks was impossible. Blessedly, the next morning, we pulled into the station and managed to muster some enthusiasm, as, after all, Space Mountain was waiting! We stepped off the train into the early morning steam bath of Sanford, FL bearing witness to the effects of heat on polyester. Nana stood stoically, even though one could no longer differentiate her toes from the rest of her feet or her feet from her calves. Thanks to mom’s early arrival and meticulous planning, our car was the last one unloaded from the train. Wilted, sleep deprived, sweaty and swollen like Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade balloons, we piled into the sh** brown non air-conditioned Grand Torino, rolled down the windows and drove on. It was magical.

Twelve years later, intent on giving my children equally rapturous summer family vacation memories, I began our own traditions. We traveled to lakes, back to the Outer Banks, to Disney World, and then with no surprise that I had beach and water kids, we headed to the Caribbean to scuba dive. Each trip, was perfect; at least in my memory. Yes, there was the time Luke screamed all night with an ear infection and we had to go to the ER so they could put a wick in his ear for the medication to work, or the year Allison was bitten by a brown recluse spider and had a fever for three days and needed antibiotics, or the time when we all ignored Meghan’s fear induced near panic attack as we forced her to bungee jump off a bridge. Then, there was my favorite trip when on the plane ride home, the flight attendant was so horrified by the bites on my back and arms, she asked if I needed any help. All were magical.

This year, in spite of Covid, I was determined to gather once again for our summer family vacation. Although our original plans had to be scrapped, I am not one so easily defeated, and so, I punted. Setting up a group Zoom call, I pitched my idea and was able to get all parties to agree to my two week prior to trip quarantine and we headed to Lake Anna, VA., a man-made lake designed and created to cool the Lake Anna Nuclear Power plant. How exotic a locale! The public side of the lake is used to draw water into the reactor, where once heated, it is dispelled into the other side. Monitored by the EPA and other agencies, it is a VERY clean lake, where water temperatures on the intake side are about 14 degrees cooler than on the discharge side of the lake. The house I rented was on the discharge side.

On July 18, we set off. Three large SUV’s stuffed to the gills took off from NJ, and one non gas guzzling sedan left from Charlotte, NC. Eight adults and one 2 year old descended on Lake Anna. The outside temperature was approximately 100 degrees. After unpacking, putting away a week’s worth of food for nine people and changing into our suits, we all headed down to the lake to cool off. We leapt off the dock anticipating fresh lake coolness and instead were hit by a 98 degree hot tub. Leaping to shore like lobsters in a boiling pot, we stood on the sand dripping with that 98 degree water and looked at each other. Blessedly, I’d brought a blow up kiddie pool and sprinkler toy for my granddaughter, both of which were employed immediately. Heading back inside, we realized that the air inside that had felt refreshing when we first arrived and unpacked, was now uncomfortably warm. Was it possible the a/c wasn’t working? Oh God help us. I quickly emailed the home owner as my cell phone began to ring in my hand. “Mrs. Conway, this is Atlantic Sport and Boat Rentals. The boat you rented has a broken bimini. I could still deliver it and try to get y’all a new bimini tomorrow, or you could wait til another boat comes in.” I whispered to my husband, “Is a bimini, the shade?” “Yes,” he replied. Thinking it’s 100 freaking degrees, and my daughter in law is seven months pregnant, I responded, “We’re going to need that bimini.” After agreeing to get a different boat two days later, we slipped into vacation mode. My cousin owns a house on the cooler side of the lake and had changed her plans and was not going to be there, so suggested we do our lake swimming from her dock. We never thought 84 degree water could feel so glorious. For three days we frolicked, jet skied, and floated. Finally boat pick up day arrived and we got a call to meet him at the marina. I knew we were screwed the minute we pulled in and we saw the boat he was unloading. “Well, Mrs. Conway, the bimini never came in and this is the only boat we have left. It’s been retired, it’s the first boat we ever had, but she runs real good. The reverse is a little tricky, but once you get er into gear, it’s all good. Not a dang thing wrong with the motor. I know the seats look a little rickety, but I checked em this mornin, and they are just fine. We got the life preservers on board and the fire extinguisher. Oh, wait, nope, no fire extinguisher, but I’ll getcha one real soon. I got er all gassed up, let me show y’all the gauge. Oh, wait, them guys in the shop said she was gassed, but she ain’t. I’ll getcha some gas just as soon as I launch them other people. Don’t you worry, you’ll have this boat in less than an hour. Now, the good news, is I’ll give y’all 20% off everything, and I don’t need to go over the boat with ya, as long as y’all just get er back here still floatin we gunna be alright.” It was magical.

For seven nights, I had all of my kids under one roof, eating, laughing and persevering. We created memories for a lifetime and ones that I hope my kids will take into their own summer family vacations. We will laugh when we remember the hot tub lake, the delayed and dilapidated boat, the slightly toasty first night as a/c battled to cool down the house. No one knows what next year will bring, but I do know this; like every summer family vacation of my childhood and adulthood, it will be MAGICAL!