Vacations Bring Families Oh So Close

Barbara Bush once said that she believes togetherness is a very important ingredient to family life. But I seriously doubt the former First Lady ever spent a week in a four-room cabin with eight of her relatives in the middle of the woods in the Berkshires. I’m just saying…it puts a different sort of spin on togetherness.

It’s easy to embrace your family members when they are staying in a guest house on your sprawling ocean-side compound. The family is together, yes, but not in the way that requires one of you to crawl over the other’s air mattress in an attempt to be next in line for the bathroom. That’s the kind of togetherness that tests family bonds, and the strength of one’s bladder.

I’m sure you have surmised by now that we have just returned from our annual trip to the Berkshires to visit my parents at their lake house. Despite the close quarters, we really do enjoy the serenity of the lake, the evenings spent by a crackling outdoor fire and the security of knowing that in the case of an emergency, you’re as good as dead because there is no way anyone could reach you for several days.

The remoteness has its perks though, the best being that there is no cell phone service. I actually enjoy this part of the deal since you are not feeling that urge to constantly check your messages in case your boss calls to tell you something silly like you were supposed to be back at work two days ago.

When the weather is nice, there isn’t much to complain about. We can tube and water ski and swim. It’s the rain that can create some “issues.” For instance I’ve learned that there are a finite number of times you can play Yahtzee and Are You Smarter than a Fifth Grader before going berserk. In this case berserk equals drinking four Cosmopolitans in a very short period of time. (Remember, eight berserks, one bathroom.)

The situation gets even more convoluted as more and more family members and friends stop by…with their suitcases. At one point we had people sleeping in two bedrooms, on a 20-year-old pull-out sofa, on a half-deflated air mattress, and in “the crib” – two arm chairs pushed together to form a makeshift sleeping area for anyone who was under four and a half feet tall. Much to her delight, my youngest daughter was the only one who qualified for the crib.

Did I mention my nephew who slept out in a tent despite reports that a bear had been seen in the area the day before? My father, who is known for his inane practical jokes, decided he’d capitalize on the opportunity by making growling noises at midnight. He also threatened to hang sausages around the tent. What would Barbara Bush say about that?

Then there is meal time, which reminds me of a nature show I once saw. It was a disturbing episode in which the good-natured but sedentary wildebeast is attacked and eaten by the vicious hyenas. If you are anything like a wildebeast around my family and food, you will not only go hungry, you may be eaten alive. I have learned to approach the buffet table quietly but swiftly, swoop down and secure my food, and then remove my hand quickly, lest it be pierced by a flailing fork.

My husband, who did not grow up with this primitive mealtime ritual, is not as skilled as I in the art of the culinary quest. He generally hesitates for a second too long, is last to the table, and forced to recover any scraps left behind. He sometimes has fork wounds on his arms.

Despite all of the extreme togetherness and our unusual “customs”, we do manage to have a good time. This may sound strange to those of you who do not have the hardy constitution that my family members have developed over the years. I am actually glad for the gift since it has given me useful life skills like the agility to slide over a sleeping body like a stealth bomber and really good eye-hand coordination (I can stab a pea with a dessert fork).

My husband, however, is still nursing his wounds.