The 4th

Each summer of my childhood we left LaMarque about the 29th of June to drive to Washington State.  As far as I was concerned Washington was the Promised Land.  We got up at 4 am to head for Raton, New Mexico which was our first night's stop.  There were no LaQuinta's or chain motels along the way.  We never stopped at a motel that had colored neon lights.  Dad said that was sign they were hiding something with the colored lights.  When we did find a place to stay,  my dad and the manager would go to the room for dad to inspect it, and it if it was clean and met the standards, we stayed there.  We usually didn't get there until 9 PM or so.  Dad said it was important to make the first day "count".

From there we headed to Cheyene, Wyoming.  We got into Cheyenne much earlier and were able to go to the museum, shop and just mainly relax.  We never ate at "hamburger joints" as my mother called them, but rather had sit-down meals at restaurants along the way.  My mom had the say on where we ate.  When we stopped and got a coke, it was a real treat.  Dad liked driving across Wyoming because there were usually "gas wars". You would pass a station with gas for 22 cents a gallon and a few miles down the road another station would have it for 19 cents a gallon.  On a 2500 mile trip it was nice to get a good deal once in a while.

The third night we stayed in Twin Falls, Idaho at a quaint little place called the Colonial Inn.  We had been there every summer since I was 3, so the owner remembered us.  It was a white building in a U-shape with colonial columns all around the front.  In the back there was a garden of several acres and a huge above ground swimming pool.  There were also many pet cats on the grounds. Each one had a name and was well loved.  I loved the Colonial Inn.  After being trapped in the car for three days I could get out and run play with the cats and of course swim.  There was a restaurant we could walk to next door.

We got up early the next day for the final day of the trip.  Dad had the trunk open as we each brought our bags to him.  He had the rule that everyone was in charge of their own stuff.  Finishing loading he closed the trunk and we all got in.  As we were waiting to turn onto the road, I could hear noises from the trunk, I listened closer and was sure I heard a meow.  "Dad? Are you sure you didn't lock one of the cats in the trunk?"
"Of course not!"
"Well I can hear one meowing!"  We were about a block from the Colonial Inn. He agreed to stop.
Before he got the trunk completely open, a cat shot out of the trunk like it had been fired out of a cannon.  He was running as hard as he could down the road, as we stood there we saw him cut through the trees by the motel.
"Do you think that had happened before?" I asked my dad.
"Probably...he knew right were to turn!"

 It was a long drive from Twin Falls, to Qunicy, Washington where my grandmother lived.  There were lots of wide open spaces and fortunately by father drove by landmarks and knew exactly where the next gas station would be  We would usually make it in to Quincy about midnight.  We would stop by my grandmother's house, if the back door was open we would slip in as quietly as possibly.  The hide-a-bed couch in the living room wold be made up for me.  Mom and Dad would slip into the extra bedroom.  Just was the last light was turned out.  My grandmother would say, "Goodnight".  I would squeal, the lights would come on as we all got up to hug and talk until I fell asleep.

The next day we would all get up and start cooking. The big family reunion was on the 4th of July.  Mom helped Grannie make the salads and pies, I got to help by cutting cookies and timing them in the oven.  Dad and I also climbed the cherry tree in the front yard to get the cherries for pies, making sure not to eat too many, as we picked.

My mother only had three brothers, but my grandmother was the 2nd of 11 kids.  From the oldest to the youngest in her family was 33 years.  After about her 4th sibling, they were the ages of her own children and younger.  My mother had aunts and uncles that were more like brothers and sisters. That meant I had Mom's three brothers and their wives as uncles and aunts, then I had ten more sets of great uncles and aunts. They all had kids that were cousins...more cousins than names I could even remember. There were usually about 80 people that were considered immediate family.

The picnic was at Mt. Ranier National Park.  It was the most beautiful place. The mountains surrounded us with beautiful views every way and cool mountain breezes. Basically to a kid from Texas, it was paradise.  One year the family decided to buy the meat from this brand new place that made chicken.  Uncle Perry, my grandmother's oldest brother asked me if I would like to go with him.  We climbed into his big white Cadillac and headed to Colonel Sanders Kentucky Fried Chicken.  It was ready when we got there. Uncle Perry, me and the lady from the chicken place loaded up the whole backseat with buckets of chicken.  When we arrived back at the park, every man there descended on the car to get the chicken.  By then my twin cousins Peg and Tricia,  along with Joyce from Oklahoma, Sandra from Seattle and of course the boy cousins, were all there.  I was always so excited to see them.

We ate and played on the playground until everyone started calling all the kids.  Then we got in the cars and headed back to Quincy, Ellensburg, Naches Valley, Seattle and the little towns. The family reunion was always the highlight of my summer.  Since we lived in Texas this was the one chance each year I had to spend with relatives.  It was so magical to me.  For them, just another family get-together.  But for this one day every year I too had a big wonderful family.