When I was at my parent’s home a few days ago, Dad handed me two boxes of old stuff. One box was full of book treasures, including the worn-out Bible I had used during college. The second box was loads of fun: negatives and slides of my two trips to Europe, along with high school photos of my best friends…and, my senior high school picture. I looked better then than now, for sure.
But in that photo box was also a small notebook that journaled my last trip with Dad in ’75—a trip to England and Scotland. I had been fascinated by castles in junior high school. He challenged me to work and save money to buy an airplane ticket ($300+) and $50 spending money, which I did over the course of two summers. Goal met, we departed in October.
The trip was an amazing sight-seeing tour—and it was a great father-son bonding time. So many treasured memories from that trip, including photos of a dozen castles. But the journal entries made the trip come alive again. At the time of the trip, I was “not even 13 1/2 yet,” as pointed out on one page. As I read through the journal, I started cracking up. Here are a few of my 13-year-old thoughts at the time, along with a few present-day commentaries in brackets {}.
* * * * *
Sunday, October 12: [On the plane] “We had steak, salad, a roll, beans, and cooked carrots (Yuck!)” {Growing up, I hated cooked carrots—among many other things....}
“The plane shook a lot which of course made me a nervous wreck.” {Of course!}
Monday, October 13: “We had a choice of three different busses to take us to our hotel. We saw all three, but we were on the wrong side of the street to catch them, so we took a taxi and it cost us 70 pence. (1 pence = 2.0635 pennies).” {I was still thinking in terms of pennies at age 13.}
“We got to the hotel only to find how small the room was. Dad’s feet stick about a foot past the end of the bed.” {This was no exaggeration. I remember this vividly.}
“Then we walked around London Tower for about an hour or two and I took two pictures.” {Those were the days—before digital cameras—when we were careful about every shot.}
“Right now, I am laying [sic] in bed writing, while the whole city of London listens to my Dad snore.” {Now, I snore, too.}
Wednesday, October 15: “On the way back to the hotel, we stopped and got some pop and I got some orange tic-tacs for 6 pence which = 12¢. I was amazed.” {It’s amazing what amazes a young teenager who isn’t even 13 1/2 yet.}
“Later, we went to the royal opera house and saw “La Traviata,” and it was beautiful music. We got cheap seats and we got put in cheap places.” {Some things never change.}
Thursday, October 16: “We toured through the [Woburn] abbey, and we met a lady who was selling guidebooks and she wouldn’t shut up! Finally, we just said we’d be going and luckily, that was the last we saw of her!”
Friday, October 17: [In Lincoln] “We went to the Assize Courtrooms in which of course Dad was very interested in [sic]…P.S. To get in the courtroom, you had to be 14. My dad said I was 14, but I’m not even 13 1/2 yet!” {In case the irony wasn't caught: My dad, the judge, fibbed to get me into a courtroom!}
Saturday, October 18: “Then, we went to have dinner at a French restaurant. The food we had, nobody else had, which made it to [sic] appear lousy, and it was.” {I was unhappy with many foods at that age.}
[of York Minster]: “Minster is how it is pronounced, NOT Minister.” {A new vocabulary word at the time.}
Sunday, October 19: “Today, we got up and had a huge breakfast. Sausage, beacon [sic], 2 eggs, mushrooms, toast (two pieces), orange juice, and tomatoes, (though I didn’t have any tomatoes).” {Guess I didn’t like tomatoes, either.}
[About our guide—the owner of the bed & breakfast place where we stayed]: “He was sort of fun to have around, although he smoked heavily and it drove Dad and me up the wall.” {Teenage candor!}
“Then, by the time we got home, it was time to have dinner so my dad and I dropped off the man and went to have Kentucky Fried Chicken.” {KFC—an American refuge!}
“Then we went to the movie theater. We saw ‘Superargo’ which was the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen, and ‘Paper Tiger’ which was very good.” {I have zero recollection of this, so I googled it and found out that ‘Superargo’ is a 1966 Spanish superhero film.}
Wednesday, October 22: “Today, we got up and had the usual breakfast (which is growing dull time after time) eggs, beacon [sic], tomato, toast, tea, juice, and sausage. I’m sure getting sick of it.” {How quickly teenagers get bored.}
“We drove on down south towards [sic] London. We saw beautiful countryside, but the weather was cloudy, dull-looking, as usual.” {Editorializing at age 13!}
“Then we ate at the Greek restaurant. Dad’s food was terrific, my food was awful.” {Man, I complained about food a lot!}
Thursday, October 23: “Then we went to a Welsch [sic] concert and without knowing it we sat in the middle of the choir. It was also a church service as well as a choir and everything was in Welsch [sic].” {I doubt we actually sat in the choir loft. We were on the balcony, and that’s not where choirs usually sit 😀}
* * * * *
Reading the journal through during college, I remember being embarrassed by its juvenile tone and was tempted to throw it away. So glad I didn’t!
Forty-one years down the road, Dad and I are going on our first father-son trip since that England-Scotland journey. Dad is almost 85, and I’m almost 54. We’re going to visit my son who’s in infantry training in Fort Benning, Georgia. No castles, operas, Welch concerts, or talkative tour guides this time. (And if I am served tomatoes, cooked carrots, or what have you, I’ll eat it all gratefully.)
I’m fully aware that the trip’s dynamic this time around will be much different, and I probably won’t keep a daily journal like I did back then. These three days will fly past us at supersonic speed. But I will cherish every moment spent together—both with father and son. And, hopefully, I’ll have some more funnies to write about when back.
See you later!
But in that photo box was also a small notebook that journaled my last trip with Dad in ’75—a trip to England and Scotland. I had been fascinated by castles in junior high school. He challenged me to work and save money to buy an airplane ticket ($300+) and $50 spending money, which I did over the course of two summers. Goal met, we departed in October.
The trip was an amazing sight-seeing tour—and it was a great father-son bonding time. So many treasured memories from that trip, including photos of a dozen castles. But the journal entries made the trip come alive again. At the time of the trip, I was “not even 13 1/2 yet,” as pointed out on one page. As I read through the journal, I started cracking up. Here are a few of my 13-year-old thoughts at the time, along with a few present-day commentaries in brackets {}.
* * * * *
Sunday, October 12: [On the plane] “We had steak, salad, a roll, beans, and cooked carrots (Yuck!)” {Growing up, I hated cooked carrots—among many other things....}
“The plane shook a lot which of course made me a nervous wreck.” {Of course!}
Monday, October 13: “We had a choice of three different busses to take us to our hotel. We saw all three, but we were on the wrong side of the street to catch them, so we took a taxi and it cost us 70 pence. (1 pence = 2.0635 pennies).” {I was still thinking in terms of pennies at age 13.}
“We got to the hotel only to find how small the room was. Dad’s feet stick about a foot past the end of the bed.” {This was no exaggeration. I remember this vividly.}
“Then we walked around London Tower for about an hour or two and I took two pictures.” {Those were the days—before digital cameras—when we were careful about every shot.}
“Right now, I am laying [sic] in bed writing, while the whole city of London listens to my Dad snore.” {Now, I snore, too.}
Wednesday, October 15: “On the way back to the hotel, we stopped and got some pop and I got some orange tic-tacs for 6 pence which = 12¢. I was amazed.” {It’s amazing what amazes a young teenager who isn’t even 13 1/2 yet.}
“Later, we went to the royal opera house and saw “La Traviata,” and it was beautiful music. We got cheap seats and we got put in cheap places.” {Some things never change.}
Thursday, October 16: “We toured through the [Woburn] abbey, and we met a lady who was selling guidebooks and she wouldn’t shut up! Finally, we just said we’d be going and luckily, that was the last we saw of her!”
Friday, October 17: [In Lincoln] “We went to the Assize Courtrooms in which of course Dad was very interested in [sic]…P.S. To get in the courtroom, you had to be 14. My dad said I was 14, but I’m not even 13 1/2 yet!” {In case the irony wasn't caught: My dad, the judge, fibbed to get me into a courtroom!}
Saturday, October 18: “Then, we went to have dinner at a French restaurant. The food we had, nobody else had, which made it to [sic] appear lousy, and it was.” {I was unhappy with many foods at that age.}
[of York Minster]: “Minster is how it is pronounced, NOT Minister.” {A new vocabulary word at the time.}
Sunday, October 19: “Today, we got up and had a huge breakfast. Sausage, beacon [sic], 2 eggs, mushrooms, toast (two pieces), orange juice, and tomatoes, (though I didn’t have any tomatoes).” {Guess I didn’t like tomatoes, either.}
[About our guide—the owner of the bed & breakfast place where we stayed]: “He was sort of fun to have around, although he smoked heavily and it drove Dad and me up the wall.” {Teenage candor!}
“Then, by the time we got home, it was time to have dinner so my dad and I dropped off the man and went to have Kentucky Fried Chicken.” {KFC—an American refuge!}
“Then we went to the movie theater. We saw ‘Superargo’ which was the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen, and ‘Paper Tiger’ which was very good.” {I have zero recollection of this, so I googled it and found out that ‘Superargo’ is a 1966 Spanish superhero film.}
Wednesday, October 22: “Today, we got up and had the usual breakfast (which is growing dull time after time) eggs, beacon [sic], tomato, toast, tea, juice, and sausage. I’m sure getting sick of it.” {How quickly teenagers get bored.}
“We drove on down south towards [sic] London. We saw beautiful countryside, but the weather was cloudy, dull-looking, as usual.” {Editorializing at age 13!}
“Then we ate at the Greek restaurant. Dad’s food was terrific, my food was awful.” {Man, I complained about food a lot!}
Thursday, October 23: “Then we went to a Welsch [sic] concert and without knowing it we sat in the middle of the choir. It was also a church service as well as a choir and everything was in Welsch [sic].” {I doubt we actually sat in the choir loft. We were on the balcony, and that’s not where choirs usually sit 😀}
* * * * *
Reading the journal through during college, I remember being embarrassed by its juvenile tone and was tempted to throw it away. So glad I didn’t!
Forty-one years down the road, Dad and I are going on our first father-son trip since that England-Scotland journey. Dad is almost 85, and I’m almost 54. We’re going to visit my son who’s in infantry training in Fort Benning, Georgia. No castles, operas, Welch concerts, or talkative tour guides this time. (And if I am served tomatoes, cooked carrots, or what have you, I’ll eat it all gratefully.)
I’m fully aware that the trip’s dynamic this time around will be much different, and I probably won’t keep a daily journal like I did back then. These three days will fly past us at supersonic speed. But I will cherish every moment spent together—both with father and son. And, hopefully, I’ll have some more funnies to write about when back.
See you later!
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