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.
No comments:
Post a Comment