If something really terrible (baby jesus forbid) were to happen to me today, it would take my family a week to find out.
Say, if I were hit by a bus, fell into an abandoned mine shaft, or came down with Ebola. They wouldn’t even know until Sunday. Those jerks have all high-tailed it up to the mountains for some good, clean family fun – without me. It’s just wrong. I mean, who’s gonna ID the body? Probably Ari. And she’d be pissed about it, too.
I know, I know. Morbid. But I’m just a little bit bitter about the situation. Not that it’s their fault I couldn’t make this summer’s backpacking trip. Blame bosses who said, “two weeks vacation in the summer,â€ù who actually meant, “two weeks vacation in the summer on any days except the followingâ€_â€ù
“The followingâ€ù included this week. Who knew back then that I was gonna quit? Not me. And here I am, sitting this one out.
Backpacking has been a family thing since before any of us kids existed. Because despite her fragile appearance, my mom is something of a mountain woman. And in our family, once you turned eight years old, you got to strap on a backpack and spend a week with Mom in the mountains every summer. As kids, we learned to cha-cha and waltz around a campfire, suffered through reconstituted dinners (freeze dried stroganoff: as gross as it sounds) and froze our tushies off at night in the cold, Uintah mountain air.
It was as awesome as it sounds.
My first backpacking trip wasâ€_ well, not the smoothest of adventures. We chose Baker Lake. A mountain spot somewhere in the middle of Nevada near some famous caves. Lehman, I think. Anyway, the map said three miles – I was a god damn Brownie Scout! I could do three miles – but when we got there, the trailhead said eight. Eight miles. With forty pounds on my back.
In a family photo album, there’s a picture of me taken somewhere along the trail, backpack on my back, crying my little eight year old eyes out.
Yeah, I’m a trooper.
Really, the bitterness and jealousy I’m suffering at the moment has nothing to do with the actual backpack part of the trip. I’m not so tough. It’s the fires and the jokes and the songs (Valerie! Valera! Valera-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!) and my mother being surprised that, for the umpteenth time that she has stubbed her big toe and must limp around camp for the next four days.
This is so unfair.
Though, to be honest, it seems a whole lot less so when I lay down at night and there are no rocks under my bed.
There’s nothing like family togetherness going on without you to make you feel decidedly piqued. Hopefully, you won’t get hit by a bus, come down with Ebola, or have anything else happen to you that would require next of kin to identify remains, and that you can find something to do to share vicariously in their adventures!!
(Just keep saying, “New job, new job, new job…” to yourself – that might help).
I’ll ID your remains if you’ll do the same for me. Heaven forbid I should have car problems or need to hammer something because I am without man-power for the week….can you hear the sniffles?
Deal! Hahahah… though, seriously, if you need my brother to hammer things, maybe we should talk.
Ok maybe not hammer things but if I need a roue reduced to a sauce for a veal filet, I’m definitely waiting for him!
This is why you should come rafting in the Poconos with us.
My mom informed me recently that my first foray into camping was when I was (get this) TWO months old. We traveled from KY to the West every year and camped at every national park in between, and I didn’t see the inside of a hotel room until I was a teenager. So I feel your pain. Some of my fondest memories are from camping with my family. Now I go with friends every chance I can (five times this summer so far). Keep your chin up and hit the nearest outfitter as soon as you can! LOVE your blog.
Maybe i am a bit confused. I just found your blog so I have been reading archives and so on( love it btw), but don’t you have a teaching job? Aren’t you off for a big part the summer? Are you teaching summer school or has regular school already started? I grew up in upstate NY and we didn’t start till after Labor Day.
No, I do not teach. I manage communications for a network of non-profit charter schools. I work at a school and sometimes, lead field trips, run the journalism club, etc. but that is as close as I get to teaching. Thank god.
These are the times when being an adult sucks!
I don’t think I’ve ever seen the word “umpteenth” written before. I figured it was one of my mom’s weird words that only people from her side of the family seem to use. I use it too, but people look at me funny……
ok. so you’re not a teacher. and said you quit your communications manager job with the non-profit charter schools….so what are you doing now or next?
I only quit a week ago. There’s that whole two-weeks notice thing. If you scroll to the bottom of the page, it explains the whole thing.
you are so lucky…i wish my family was outdoorsy like that.
Damn the luck! You could always try to replicate the trip and carry something like groceries and dry cleaning up the stairs. But I suppose there wouldn’t be a campfire waiting at the top, anyway.
Make smores. That always makes me feel like I’m camping, even if I’m just in my kitchen.
i feel you. my entire family, plus family friends went to cabo for a week. i am home alone.
i am with the above – make s’mores. just wash them down with gin and tonic. tastes like pine trees. it’ll feel just like camping.
bahahaha – you wrote trooper.
And also – your landlord would rekill your corpse, because really.
Furthermore – if you are dying to sleep outside, next time we’re in CT, I’ll lock you out of the house. Good? Good.
Still miss you.
oh, i used to backpack with my family too- – haven’t thought about it in years.
here’s to ‘mountain man’ moms.
I’m a teacher and I’m back at school already. I feel your bitterness.
I’m a camper – no showers and such – but I’ve never been a backpacker. Do you have to dig holes to do your biz? That part kinda freaks me out.
i’ll ID the body
Thanks, Goik. But dude, I’m not buying your plane ticket.
awwwww thats a pisser!
At least they told you that they were going on vacation – I called my mom at work last summer and was told by her new assistant that she was on a family vacation. “This is her daughter,” I replied.
Oh wow, I feel your pain. Just got back from the family backpacking trip, myself. Sadly, the 4 uncles and handful of aunts who usually join the annual mountain pilgrimage couldn’t come so it was me, dad and the boyfriend. But I hear you! (Especially the 40 lb. pack part, although I was 10 when I started.) It’s a grand ritual and I wish you the ability to get out soon!
Rocks under your bed is totally underrated. They give you a great excuse to roll over onto someone ELSE’S bed.
heh.