It’s summer vacation season. At fast food joints and c-stores you can see the vacationing families in their loaded-down cars and minivans heading somewhere. The children look bored, Mom appears exhausted and Dad looks broke.

When Cindy’s and my children were younger we took family vacations each year but they were modest compared to the extended vacations some folks enjoy these days. Nonetheless, those summer trips provided many great memories.

Believing that a vacation ought to offer something for everyone, we always included a major league baseball game in our itinerary. My son is a sports fanatic and even at the tender age of eight his idea of dream vacation included a visit to a major league baseball stadium.

Since the ball game was usually all Dirk cared about, we scheduled the game at the tail end of the vacation so he would have something to look forward to during the entire trip.

My daughter, on the other hand, was more open to travel destinations and the more adventurous the activity the happier she was.

On a visit to the top of the Arch in St. Louis, Dirk clung to a wall (near his father who was also clinging to a wall) while Dena virtually laid on the observation window as she excitedly pointed out the landmarks more than 600 feet below.

One summer I finagled four free round-trip airline tickets from Sioux City to Denver and some free nights at a Denver hotel. The kids were 13 and 9 years old at the time.

We rented a car in Denver and took in all the sites from Estes Park to Pikes Peak to the Royal Gorge to the Garden of the Gods. On the way back to Denver from Colorado Springs one night we drove through a heavy thunderstorm. The lightning at that altitude is spectacular and the kids “ooed” and “ahhed” at each bolt as if it were part of a Fourth of July fireworks show.

Upon returning home I asked the kids what they most enjoyed in Colorado. “The lightning,” they responded in unison. It’s tough for a low budget father to compete with God’s grandeur.

Our children were never serious discipline problems but they were children. Driving from Kansas City to St. Louis one year they got into a petty spat that wouldn’t quit. After several warnings, each with increasing ferocity, I pulled the minivan onto the shoulder and stopped. I was born with a temper that with perseverance and prayer I learned to control. Not this time. I threatened to bare their bottoms right there on I-70 and apply “manual instruction” if the fighting did not stop immediately. It was eerily quiet the rest of the way to St. Louis.

Years later Dena confessed that her obedience on that occasion was rooted in fear. She claimed I used language in that final warning that she had not heard me use before. She was more afraid of my cussing than a spanking.

On a trip to the Ozarks we purchased each child a hand-carved “pistol” that shot rubber bands. A cute toy, I thought, until I felt a rubber band smack the back of my head. It had been fired by our daughter who to this day claims it was an accident. We confiscated her weapon for the duration of the trip.

While our son tolerated his father’s frugality, our daughter was embarrassed by it.

We had stopped at a rustic looking restaurant for lunch. When I saw the exorbitant prices on the menu, I said, “Let’s get out of here.” My wife and son withheld comment but our daughter ̶ then about 8-years-old ̶ sputtered, “Oh, my gosh! I am so embarrassed. I can’t believe we’re walking out. This is so embarrassing…”

On another occasion, I refused to pay the ridiculous admission price at a drive-in tourist trap. I asked the ticket seller where I could turn the car around and then did so. Our daughter began reciting her “I am so embarrassed…” mantra.

The kids are middle-agers nowadays. Dena is a little more in tune with her father’s thriftiness these days. And our son? He still doesn’t enjoy traveling, except to a ball game.

Hot weather. High gas prices. Owly kids. Take a vacation anyway. The memories they create are priceless.

(Arvid Huisman can be contacted at huismaniowa@gmail.com. ©2026 by Huisman Communications.)