My 11 Days of Christmas

Those trips to Louisiana and Arizona were, for the most part, uneventful - except for our childhood car games. We were all tired by the time we were close to our destination - emotionally and physically.  As we got even closer mom would remind us, "Please behave.  No running around the house.  No sitting on the beds.  Do not play over the levee."  No this and no that.  "Oh, have fun."

In Louisiana, my papa was the engineer at a sugar plantation, so my grandparents lived in the "big white house" on the premises. We crossed over a cattle guard to get on the plantation road, the last leg (just minutes) of our trip.  I would slide to the edge of the seat and ever so lightly tap daddy on the shoulder and quietly say, "Daddy can we stop?  I think I'm going to throw up."  Daddy would tell me just to sit back we were almost there.  I would slide back - then just as quickly slide forward again.  Again, I would ask him to stop and he would tell me to sit back.  Cindy, Marcia and Mike were touching, so they could be away from me - they probably thought I was going to get in trouble.  Only mom would look at me and say, "Larry, you need to pull over", but daddy pressed on.  Just when mom started pleading my case again - I did not need daddy to pull over.  Daddy pulled over anyway, so he could yank his shirt off.

After that, on trips to Louisiana, I got to walk across the cattle guard.  Sorry daddy, but I really needed you to stop.