It seemed like we were driving for weeks even though it had been two days. My sister was still sitting next to me reading the same picture book she started on when we left Pasadena. That book was eight pages long, what the heck was she still looking at? I kept thinking of brilliant ways to make her scream and sticking gum in her hair only worked once until dad got really angry with me.

This summer vacation has got to be the worst one ever. Dad got this brilliant idea to pack everyone up in the van and drive north. He has no clue where we are going but he felt guilty about something else in his life and once again tried to make up by splurging on the credit cards.

Dad was a strange creature but in 1989, he didn't seem too bad.

I had to give him some credit, I mean, he tried and that is what counts. So what do you do if it is the year 1989 and you are lugging around a wife and two ungrateful children all the while you have two opposing voices inside your head.

One telling you to run for your life and take comfort in anything that may kill you and the other voice telling you that if you don't go home and watch the Facts of Life and pretend to be intrigued by your family, you will burn in a fiery pit of Olympic gymnasts, Coca-Cola, and Michael Jackson. Wow, tough choice to make. Somewhere along the lines, the balance came in frequent purchases on plastic cards that read "I-Owe-You."

So this vacation was under construction and headed nowhere but it was alright because dad's Oldsmobile always had the AC cranked and every once and awhile mom and dad would hold hands on top of the console. I kept thinking about what I would write on the first day back at school. All the other kids would be writing about amazing beach vacations with jet skis and surfboards or a mountain hiking vacation with a crazy cougar encounter.

Mine would probably start off with something like four days and three nights in ice cool Oldsmobile AC. My sister is perfectly smack-able and mom and dad are completely clueless. I would probably wind up getting a C and dad would wonder why I didn't inherit the smarts from his side of the family. What a vacation story this would turn out to be.

Looking back, I suppose the word vacation and family are associated and no matter how much I love to find all the wrongs with my family, there were times when they tried to make it right. I was once told that perspective is reality. So when I look back and take this perspective, I feel guilty...kind of like dad. I would much rather take on a loving perspective and realize that my family did the best that they could under the circumstances that were given. When it comes down to it, the time we have with them is so short. Quality time is something that you remember.

They are moments that are to be cherished forever. Vacations are the word that will always be associated with togetherness I can't remember too much about my childhood but I do remember those little hiatuses from everyday life that are like sweet and sour lemons in a fruit bowl of memories.