Oh, the Places You’ll Go!

“Today is your day, you’re off to great places! You’re off and away! (Dr. Seuss..)

“Army-Brat!” Although my father was in the Air Force, the name given to children of families in the service who “transfer” from base to base is “army brat!” I never understood that as it incorrectly labeled us (I thought anyway). First of all, I proudly profess that my father was in the “Air Force”, not the “army”. Next, we didn’t have any choice while being in the “Air Force service” but to move where we were told to move. Thus, I went to eight different schools before I was in the 7th grade! I guess that made me a “brat!”

So, every time we moved, it felt like we were going on a vacation. We packed up everything, jumped in our car, and didn’t look back. As children, our version of vacation was generally moving for the relocation (“transfer”) through the Air Force or, occasionally, going to see relatives.

We felt we were the luckiest kids in the world because we seemed to move every three years (vacation!), and it usually involved a “road trip”.

Growing up, we lived and moved to the following locations that had “Air Force Bases”. (Born in Tachikawa) This included Japan; Sacramento, California; Columbus, Ohio; Springfield, Massachusetts; Anchorage, Alaska; and Omaha, Nebraska. We have been at our final destination of Omaha, NE, since 1971. Much of the time, we would move to temporary housing, and it could be months before we get located into permanent housing “on base”. So, we would be at several different schools in those cities. I recall an amazing “adventure” (relocating) we had in early March of 1967 as we traveled from Westover AFB in Springfield, Massachusetts to Elmendorf AFB in Anchorage, Alaska BY CAR! For as long as I could remember, my family had a typical (for those times) “station wagon”. We were always proud of our station wagon which had 3 rows of seats with the rear row facing backward so we could look out the rear window. This station wagon was the “beast carrier of our family”, one we took for granted. Often times we would lay both the second row and third row down and all of us would lay side by side in a row and look at the stars at night when traveling long distances.

This “vacation” (transfer) we had planned to last over a month so we could stop in Ohio to visit grandparents and my mom’s sister, Aunt Mary’s family, and Chicago to visit my dad’s sister, Aunt Kay and the Hollems family. We stayed several days at each. We even stopped in Minneapolis where our parents had old friends they were visiting. By the time we got to the Dakotas, the roads were treacherous and snow-packed.

Each day of our “road trip”, we would start out with a few prayers, usually the rosary led by my mother or father. This was a daily ritual, as routine as our daily meals. It was a long trip, and although, as children, we weren’t aware of the perils, my parents were fully aware of how vulnerable we could be as Canada and Alaska were still in their winter months.

The closer we got to Alaska, the more snow we encountered on the roads. On one particular day, we were in White Horse, Yukon CANADA and road visibility was next to nothing. Still “trekking” slowly through Canada, one afternoon, we heard an odd noise, and our trusty “beast carrier station wagon” started sliding. I remember seeing our windshield wipers fighting furiously to create a small window of visibility. My dad was hunkered close to the top of the steering wheel with his hands clenching the steering wheel as if he had to hold it to keep it from flying away. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a car go as slow on a road trip as I did that day with winds and snow out of control. Our parents looked alarmed.

We were at the top of a hill on the “AlCan” (Alaska -Canada) highway, and our father stopped the car and turned it off. I saw fear in my mother’s eyes. Not a word was said for what seemed like forever. Then quietly, my mother said (as my father reached for his coat and opened the driver’s door), “Kids, we forgot to pray and now must pray harder than we ever have.” The wind was howling and the car was being pushed around. We could not see where the edges of the road were and it was complete “white out” not only on the ground but everywhere around us. We did not have the benefit of cell phones, or weather reports to warn us of this potentially, treacherous moment. I wasn’t even sure what I could hope for. I’ve never seen my mother this afraid. She then said, “we have a flat tire and we have no choice but to fix it.” My two little sisters, Kim who was 3 1/2 and Jackie who was 5 1/2 were nonchalantly playing with their toys, oblivious to the danger at hand. My brother, Duane, appeared intrigued and you might even say, excited, as if this were a game. He was ready to jump out and help. “We are going to stay in the car and pray that the car doesn’t start sliding down this hill (and that someone doesn’t come along and hit us)”, said my mother. I actually was wondering if I should pray for salvation from my sins, believing halfheartedly that the fear in my mother’s eyes was sadness for lives cut too short. My younger siblings did not grasp what was actually transpiring. My father had the impossible task of jacking up the car, removing the tire, and placing a new spare tire back on in brutal winds. I sort of recall that we had chains on our tires, but I can’t recall for sure. I believe that is what is used nearly year-round in Alaska.

As we said the rosary, I felt the car go up. We could not leave the car because of the outside conditions. I kept looking out to see if I could see my father, and I only saw white stuff everywhere. Tears were coming down my mom’s face. I felt like we said the rosary 4 times before my father finally came back in the car. It seemed like forever before he finally came back to the driver’s door and opened it. I did not recognize him. He was frozen stiff with icicles falling from his hat (or so it seemed) and white eyebrows. Is this a stranger? And there it was, he flashed his big, white toothy smile, and I knew all was right with the world. (Thank you, Lord) He started the car, and we continued on our amazing vacation of 4,473 memorable miles, one way to Alaska! Here we come, “Land of the Midnight Sun!” Best vacation EVER!

Photo: By Portage Glacier (near Anchorage, Alaska).

Mother, Annie in the middle of the back row; Her mother, Carmen, 1st person in the back row; and her sister, Mary, on the end of the back row.

They came to visit while we lived there.