Shinybass Journal Entry 06/11/23

 

 

 

The ‘Field Trip’

 

 

 

I am a little bit of a hermit. I love people, I love places. I also very much like home. Traveling for decades has made me a little jaded towards leaving the place I love the most. I’ve been ‘home’ for almost a year now, so the grind of getting on the bus has faded into a forgotten place, almost like a friend I invented in my childhood that pops his head out occasionally with a triggering sight or sound.

These days the travel is reserved for the travel I wish to take. That is liberating and daunting at the same time. Welcome to the real world, Steve. In planning, I don’t. I mean, I know where I am going and staying, and plan occasional activities, but life has a way of finding a path. For the uneducated, going to Disney with two children is NOT that path. You better have your ‘ish’ worked out well in advance. Kudos to my wife on that front. She was the tour manager that kept us all together. Our most recent trip was not to Disney. It was back to what I call ‘The Motherland’ : Virginia.

I don’t get home often enough. I grew up in Virginia Beach, Virginia, raised by two great parents who found us two amazing neighborhoods to call home that gave us safe haven, great schools, and lifelong friends. It’s hard to find all those elements in this day and age, but we got lucky with the trifecta. Just for kicks I occasionally look at Zillow to see if anyone is selling in our old neighborhood. They aren’t.

I wasn’t ready to leave home when I did. Of course you have to leave to find your way in the universe, and had I stayed in town, I wouldn’t have any of my experiences or stories to share. I wanted to move back after college, I really did. I gave myself 2 weeks in Nashville to find a job, or I was going to pack it in and move back to the Beach. Life eventually took over and here I am.

Musical touring circles took me to Virginia, but rarely to the Beach. I’d see family, just not often enough. I would have to settle for the highway signs pointing toward the sand feeding my imagination as opposed to actually feeling the water between my homesick toes. One of my touring friends has a special appreciation for the area as well, and sometimes we just say one word to sum it all up: ‘Tidewater’.

For this trip it was boys only. My wife stayed behind to work, sleep, breathe. I was the tour manager, caterer, and event planner. Some things were met with minor pushback. Others, feet first jumps (literally) were in order. And for this kid, it was damn near perfect.

First, this wasn’t a family trip. Miles renamed it a ‘Field Trip’ because Mom wasn’t with us. So we went on a field trip. First stop was Lynchburg, where I’d been 20+ times before in the bus. We went to a single-A baseball game, and although road-weary, the boys had a good time. Hell, I’ve never been allowed ON the field after a game for autographs. Another plus of touring: I knew where to go for sweet potato pancakes the next morning.

 

 

 

 

After a side trip to Appomattox Court House, it was off to Charlottesville, where my brother has a 13 acre mini-farm. You want to have a day? Take two ‘city kids’ to a farm. They had an absolute blast. Henry was up at 6 AM the next day wanting to gather more eggs. Go get it, boy. Get those hands dirty.

 

 

 

 

Next stop was The Beach. All three of my brothers and their kids joined us and met up with my Mom for a birthday lunch, celebrating my older brother’s time on this planet. After dessert, the kids were beach bound. Chick’s Beach is a more chill area than the beaches on the Atlantic. I don’t mind the slower, non-touristy pace, really. Sand, water, and the occasional military flyover. All good to me.

 

 

 

 

 

The kids like being in hotels. I did when I was younger, too, just because it was so foreign. It seemed like our stays away from home was always Grandma’s house. Getting a family of 6 into a hotel room isn’t easy or cheap, so we didn’t do it much. When we did, bed jumping, of course, was in order. Not much has changed. This time I was the sea monster on the floor between the two beds.

I sat at dinner on night 2 at Rudee’s and was finally, finally able to exhale. I looked around, just having finished a ridiculous plate of seafood, watching my kids and my family in this tranquil dockside restaurant. It was home.

 

 

 

 

 

I don’t have a house there, nor do my parents. I left the area too early, didn’t get enough time on the ocean when I was there, or I was focused on the wrong things. All part of growing up, right? I tell myself that, just because you can’t do it all again, you just hope to enjoy the time you get to simply ‘be’.

After dinner we did the ‘tourist’ stroll down Atlantic Ave and I surprised the kids with a trip to Flipper McCoy’s. Flipper’s has been there since, well, the arcade games had flippers, so this was a nostalgic ‘torch passing’ moment for me. I watched my kids play the same video games I played in my youth, and judging by the worn paint and faded placards, these were the exact games I played in my youth. As silly as it seems, that my kids were playing here some 40+ years after me was pretty cool.

 

 

 

 

We said our goodbyes after breakfast the next day, grabbed some hush puppies to go from Dockside (gotta have snacks) and headed southwest towards Raleigh. The last stop of our field trip was to see Grandpa. This was an important stop for me, just because Dad isn’t traveling like he used to. He was able to get his time in with the boys, and extra grandpa hugs are the best. Plus ice cream.

I watched my boys do spectacular things on this trip. The boys were great in the car. I mean amazing. Sharing, very little disagreements. It’s as if they knew I was rolling solo and needed all the help I could get. I watched Henry help with the younger sibling, especially when Miles was tired and cranky. I watched the boys explore new territory, learning some things along the way, and discover a little more of who they are. I also watched their blissful joy of just being with cousins, the cool uncles, and of course, the Grandparents. I was able to show them more than our normal four walls, and they appreciated all of it.

Our field trip scratched my touring itch (if I had one, it’s scratched), and getting home always encourages me to work harder when I get to my ‘normal’ house. Maybe the fantasy of getting back to the Beach when I am old isn’t so far fetched, although Portugal is running through my mind a lot as well…

Maybe the next family trip will be a REALLY big trip?

I truly hope you are able to get out this summer, and get all your ‘boxes’ checked. Remember at the end of the day, as exhausting as it all is, it’s worth it. The thankless job of being a parent is not easy, especially when you are just trying to give the kids some different scenery. They appreciate it. They really do.

Go make those memories.