There used to be a time, back in the small manufacturing town in Virginia where I grew up, where people took vacation twice a year, the July 4th holiday and Christmas. My dad, having worked for the railroad for many years, accumulated several weeks of vacation each year. I remember one summer as a young teenager, the only child of four still at home, I was able to take part in a new type of vacation. Let’s call it spontaneous, improvisational, a.k.a. winging it. No GPS, no Google Maps, only a large, printed paper map, of which we became very astute at reading.
Up to this point, we had always known ahead of time where we were vacationing. Typically, Myrtle Beach. I love the Grand Strand. Somehow, the summer wasn’t complete unless I’d walked on the white sand and enjoyed the boardwalk and Pavilion. (Some of you may need to Google Myrtle Beach Pavilion.) This particular summer, however, my parents had a different adventure in mind. Two weeks in Florida. No advance reservations, no itinerary, no vacation plan whatsoever. I was confused at first, not having the usual plan to get excited about. However, I would soon begin to appreciate the beauty in this style of vacationing.
We headed south along the interstate which quickly became quite boring. After several long hours on the road, we arrived in Savannah, Georgia. I’d never been to Savannah, not even its closest twin, Charleston, for that matter. We walked along the Riverfront of the Savannah River, watching the ships come in. I learned about the history of ghosts and other lore. I was hooked. When the sun came up the next morning, I said, “Where to next?” And Dad said, “Well, let’s go see.” In practically no time, we came upon the large green welcome sign to Florida. Just down the road was a Welcome Center advertising “Free Orange Juice.” I spoke up and tried my hand at directing this as our next stop. To this day, I’ve never had a better freshly squeezed glass of ice-cold OJ. I’ve also never forgotten.
We ventured to the picturesque city of Saint Augustine, the oldest city in America, and walked its cobblestone streets, admiring colonial architecture. Next, it was Fort Lauderdale, home to more Rolls-Royces per square mile than any other place in the U.S., so they said at the time. We went to a dinner theater and saw a rendition of Auntie Mame. Afterwards, I went up to the star of the show and said my dad was a big fan (not actually true), and it would be great if she would take a picture with him. She, in her colorful burlesque costume, sat on his lap with her arm around his shoulder as I photographed another memento of the trip. Dad smiled with a big grin.
From there, we crossed over to the Gulf side and visited Naples. I remember it was so clean, not a spec of trash anywhere on the streets. Nice boats docked literally right next to the owner’s house. The Burger King we ate at looked nothing like what I’d experienced before; full of lush, tropical live plants in the restaurant and designer-style seating. Outside, the sign was low-hanging and more discreet. I loved Naples. Couldn’t afford it, but loved it, nonetheless – time to head back to the Atlantic Ocean side and Daytona Beach.
Daytona was another first for me. A literal beach you could drive on. Along the way, however, I saw the sign for Cape Canaveral. My mom and I had witnessed (on television) all of the rocket ship launches and return landings since the Apollo program began. Just prior, I heard they had a new rocket ship that would, upon its return, land on a runway. “No way!” I thought. So, the next day, we kept our room in Daytona and drove out to Cape Canaveral to tour Mission Control and the spaceship for the Space Shuttle program. Another memorable destination.
After some leisure time in Daytona, our final stop was to Cypress Gardens, the film set of “The Notebook,” “The Patriot” and “Swamp Thing” among others where we also enjoyed the “world famous water ski show.” The show included daredevil stunts, high-flying pyramids, jumps off ramps and synchronized skiing. After it was over, as we walked behind the building where the skiers were, my dad strolled over to the beautiful female star of the show and whispered something in her ear. I remember, she looked at me and just smiled, and motioned for me to come over. Dad stepped back, took my camera and snapped a picture of me, arm in arm, with the aqua star. As we walked away, Dad gave me a subtle thumbs-up sign and grinned. A returned favor.
As the two weeks came to an end and we arrived home, I realized one important lesson. Sometimes life is better when you don’t plan anything – and just live it. It was for me.
Musical Selection: Hollow Coves – On The Way (Official Music Video)
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