CityView Magazine

8 August 2022 Mary Zahran, who still has no idea what psychics do when the lights are dimmed, can be reached at maryzahran@gmail.com. SOMEDAY YOU'LL THANK ME Family travels BY MARY ZAHRAN J udging from my childhood travels with my family, I do not think it is a coincidence that the word "travels" bears an eerie resemblance to the word "travails." Although we never ventured far from home in search of exotic places, each trip always seemed to turn into an adventure, a unique and unforgettable event that became part of our family lore. While these road trips did indeed become adventures, they also became travails that usually put us off course, over budget and behind schedule, in addition to taxing my father's patience, sanity and verbal self-restraint. Some of my most vivid memories of our summer vacations include my sister Amy's habit of reading aloud nearly every sign or billboard on the highway as we headed for my grandparents' cottage at Atlantic Beach. If she had read silently or even with a barely audible whisper, I think our drive would not have turned into a free-for-all that usually ended with my father either threatening to turn around and go home (an unlikely prospect) or threatening to banish my sister to her bedroom until anksgiving. Since my father never carried through on either of these threats, my sister eventually felt emboldened to go beyond the mere recitation of the words on the signs to making running commentary about their content. us, we were subjected to her observation that the Marlboro Man was a hot guy to look at but would be disgusting to kiss because he probably tasted like cigarettes. She shared with us her certainty that Madame Ramona, the Psychic of the Atlantic, was really a big phony who rummaged through your pocketbook when your eyes were closed and the lights were dimmed. Interspersed with these brilliant insights were the constant reminders of the ever-changing speed limit and the number of miles le until we reached Morehead City. While my sister's constant reading of road signs eventually became little more than background noise, my brother's once-in-a- lifetime reading of a road sign turned out to be a significant event in the Barnes family travelogue. On this particular day, we were going to Greensboro for a belated wedding reception for my oldest sister and her new husband. My father, finding himself in a part of the state that was unfamiliar to him, was anxious not only about getting lost but also about being late for a party hosted by his daughter's new in-laws. ese people were virtual strangers to us, and my parents wanted to make a good impression by arriving on time. Apparently, my parents were so preoccupied with their impending social engagement that they did not notice the highway sign with "Greensboro" written in large letters. My brother, who was just 7 at the time, yelled out that we had missed our turn, but my father insisted that he was wrong. Half an hour later, seeing no sign pointing the way to Greensboro, my father turned around to find the sign that had caught my brother's eye. is time, we took the right exit and were soon at the wedding reception. When my father was asked how the drive was, he simply smiled and answered that it was " just fine." It wasn't until later that he confessed to the bride that her little brother had saved the day. e family trips I remember as the most challenging were with my maternal grandparents. ey loved to go to the beach to fish, and they oen took me with them. Although we traveled on the same road that inspired my sister's insufferable sign reading, riding with my grandparents was a different kind of experience. In those days, we did not have to wear seat belts, so I spent a lot of time moving from one side of the back seat to the other. You might assume I was in constant motion because I needed to be near a window to get some fresh air or because I wanted to enjoy as much scenery as possible. You would be wrong. e real reason I moved so much was to avoid the dangers that lurked on either side of the car. My grandfather, a wonderful man who loved to smoke cigars, was forever flicking ashes out of his open window, and many of them flew in through the back window. Aer my first contact with these hot little missiles, I learned to keep a sharp lookout for incoming objects. My grandmother, also wonderful, liked to "dip snuff." On one occasion, I watched her toss a wad of this vile substance out of her window, only to see it fly in through my window and land close to me. Aer dodging the ashes on the le and the snuff on the right, I realized that maybe my sister's incessant reading of road signs wasn't so bad aer all. If it is true that the journey is more important than the destination, I have had countless important moments while traveling. My adventures may not be the stuff of epic poetry, but then Odysseus never had to dodge a wad of snuff being flung in his direction. 611 West Russell Street • 484-7161 www.homemakersfurniturenc.com All Leather Wing Recliners Starting at $ 1690 Available in Navy, Brown and Burgundy Since 1945 HOMEMAKERS FURNITURE & INTERIORS MADE IN USA

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