This whole "late puberty" thing only served to exponentially compound the embarrassment that my 13 brother faced when he voluntarily exposed himself to a bunch of Nuns in a Catholic convent. I would also be neglect in my duty as an impartial reporter of my family stories if I failed to make mention that those NUNS were slightly too enthusiastic in the opportunity that presented itself to them.
It reminds me of the time a bear fell into a giant vat of honey and prayed, "Lord, make my mouth equal to the opportunity set before me."
As usual, with all of us ornery kids, any Dahlin trip, whether it be to the grocery story or across country, had a way of turning into a journey epic proportions. Last summer (1962), was one such occasion. I just finished reporting about Dooh-Dooh Pants' near disastrous brush with death as he careened out of control on a large paddle board heading towards a dangerous and deadly waterfall, had it not been for the swift and comical rescue - which is a classic for the ages. Bookend that with the story of THE BEE...THE CAST...THE LEG...THE POISON OAK and you have just another inglorious Dahlin vacation.
Let's start from the beginning. In 1963 my parents bought a new Ford Econoline van.
The new van sat about eight of us, so along with all of our luggage, our camping gear and two of us little kids sitting on the warm engine compartment we barely managed to squeeze inside. It practically took a shoe-horn to cram us all in.
The beauty of this thing is that it could go faster uphill than the 40 miles-an-hour that we were used to chugging along in our 36 horsepower VW van.
BY THE WAY: They've done studies on lab rats in overcrowded conditions that showed they are more apt to get agitated, angry and are quick to turn on one another. One look at my family and we could have saved those scientist lots of time and money. My dad figured that by the time we had arrived anywhere we were lucky to have the same numbers as when we left! Mom always made snide comments about burying bodies along the way...but I think she was joking. (that is what made the Salton Sea story blog- 5/13/13 so traumatic, I guess. Deep down inside I felt I was one of the bodies they tried to leave behind).
Three or four days on a 3000 mile trip... with farts, fighting and grody teenage bodies - I'm not sure "vacation" is the right word to use for one of our excursions. It was more like a precursor for (what has evolved into) cage fighting. Every time the doors opened for gasoline or a pee-pee stop - bodies tangled in wrestling matches poured out onto the asphalt.
If you have been following the blog, then you know my poor dad was a frugal Swede (I don't blame him). Anyway he perfected a way he could sustain all ten of us on these three week vacations by rationing crackers and cheese for less than twelve dollars.
Never mind the fact that the van didn't have heat or air-conditioning, add the name calling, the punching, the hair pulling, greasy farts, sweaty bodies, we usually ended up at our destination malnourished, dehydrated, missing tufts of hair - dirty and disheveled as if we were some blonde-haired cave-dwelling missing links.
We started out like this to the left... and ended up like this to
the right.
It wasn't a pretty sight.
The first stop in Detroit was to the inner city to visit my Aunt Mary who was a nun ... Little did Puke-Breath and those Nuns know what awaited them... TO BE CONTINUED.
"Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity; and I'm sure about the universe!"
Albert Einstein
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