Summer
vacation: the beacon of hope glimmering at the end of a long year of school,
work and potty training. Our departure date is circled in red marker on the
family calendar. My eight younger siblings (yes, eight, you read that right)
know what that red circle means. It means our yearly journey to the mountains
is upon us; it means the countdown for leaving Florida has begun.
Planning
a trip for 11 people is no small feat. Once the job-holding members of our clan
secure three weeks of vacation, the frenzied packing spree begins. Mom types
detailed packing lists and carefully explains what we can and cannot bring on
the journey. “Yes, EVERYONE has to bring/wear socks!” Then the buddy
system comes into play: each older child is given a younger child to be
responsible for. You pack your clothes, you pack your buddy’s clothes, and you
feed your buddy when he or she looks hungry. Like members of a rag-tag football
team, we each know our jobs, our responsibilities, and we know the benefits of
working hard. We know that the harder we work and the less we fight with each
other, the sooner we can leave Florida.

The day
before we leave, the house is a whirlwind of activity. Clothes are being washed
and folded to pack into our 1998 Winnebago Brave, fondly named “Willis.” (Not
sure why we chose that name.) Willis’ compartments are filled with anything and
everything. Sure, we are going to the mountains, but what are those majestic
slopes without a full supply of Disney movies? In our house, trash bags take
the place of suitcases. Mom says you can fit just as much stuff into them. One
by one, we drag our trash bags full of clothes to the RV. Little brothers and
sisters help where they can, but spend most of the time asking, “When is it
time to leave? How many more minutes until we can go?” Mom is heading up the
effort by shouting out random things that need to be thrown into Willis before
we drive away.
“Somebody
pack the toothbrushes,” She yells. “And diapers, do not forget either of those.”
I dash away to locate these items, certain that we don’t want a repeat of last
year’s vacation with 11 people, but only six toothbrushes. You do the math.
By evening,
all of us are exhausted. As I tuck my siblings into bed, they look up at me
with shining eyes and ask when we’re leaving one more time. Sleep was in short
supply that night; we were all too excited to sleep. When our alarm clocks ring
at 4:30 a.m., we stumble up Willis’ steps and buckle in still half asleep. Dad turns
the key, and I hear the rumble of the generator. He looks back at us, smiles
and pulls out of the driveway onto the main road. New York, ready or not, here
we come! I look out the window, take a deep breath and turn my face up to the
moonlight. In that pristine, beautiful moment, I realize one very important
thing: I forgot the toothbrushes.
Jim Lazzarino, recently featured in Better RVing.com print magazine is the proud father of the family and the owner of that
1998 Winnebago Brave that has seen many mountain trips. He still has his eyes on
his dream RV— a Fleetwood Terra 34 B, complete with bunkhouse.