Column: Aviva Orenstein

Summer without sons a reminder of long trip with them
by Aviva Orenstein
September 4, 2008

Reprinted with permission of The Herald-Times, Bloomington, Indiana

This summer, my three sons, David, 25, Michael, 23, and Ben, 19, are all out of the house. On any given day, I don’t know what they’re doing or, in the case of David, what country he’s in. I recall with nostalgia my car trip 15 years ago. The boys were ages 10, 8 and 4, and I drove them from my parents’ home in South Orange, N.J., to Bloomington all by myself. Gas could be purchased $1.60 a gallon.

Friends and relatives worried for my safety and my sanity. I tried to sound confident, but I, too, was nervous. I had traveled with children before — these very ones in fact. I knew the violence of back-seat brawls, the sadism of kids pretending to choke on popcorn as we traveled 65 mph, and, of course, the tyranny of that simple statement, “I have to go bathroom.”

That summer was before cars had DVD players; in fact, it was before there were DVD players as far as I knew. But in my own fashion, I came prepared. We had comics, hand-held video games, books, gum and favorite blankets (I found out the hard way that those last two don’t mix well in the car).

It turns out that the best thing I brought were audiotapes. The four of us sang “Eat It” (Weird Al Yankovic’s parody of Michael Jackson’s “Beat It”) before arriving at each road-stop joint — and we made many stops. We learned the words to even the most obscure songs in Allan Sherman and Tom Lehrer’s repertoires, although I had to translate some of the jokes.

To my disappointment, the children found the Beatles unimpressive, but they were particularly fond of my “Big Chill” soundtrack. We made a truly joyous chorus belting out “Joy to the World.” I’ll never forget the image of my youngest, Ben, arms spread wide, singing, “I Know Something about Love.”

The trip was also notable for how I, immersed in my 24-hour role as Mom, saw and interacted with the world.

At one truck stop, the proprietor put out Trivial Pursuit cards to entertain diners while we waited for our meals — invariably, spaghetti with ketchup or grilled cheese sandwiches. The kids delighted in stumping me, but I did OK for a while because a sly trucker whispered some answers my way.

I remember my reaction when we entered one roadside stop in Ohio, where a bunch of tattooed bikers had parked. I wasn’t scared; if anything, I was a little contemptuous. “You guys think you’re so tough? See if you can go an hour with these three in an over-packed mini-van,” I thought.

Most important, the trip was unadulterated, undistracted time with the kids.

No normal person would choose 15 hours of driving as the best way to spend time with her children. However, there was no competition for my full attention, no law school work, no phones, no housework (though, honestly, the last one rarely commands much of my attention anyway).

Our trek served as a reminder how interesting and fun kids can be. For a while, at least, my anger at the predictable kid-type infractions was tempered by the memory of their good cheer, their patience, their singing, and, well, just themselves as I had sometimes been too busy to know them.

Nowadays, all three boys have charted their own paths. I can’t drive them down their chosen roads in life, nor would they want me to. This makes the memory of our long car trip all the sweeter.

For me, the trip was the best type of challenge — a mission accomplished that made me appreciate the kids more.

As I continue to remember and retell the heroic story of that long-ago summer car odyssey, it evokes fond memories of a fleeting time when I was in the driver’s seat and my little ones were up for a ride.

Aviva Orenstein is a professor in the Indiana University School of Law. Her column appears every other Thursday in The Herald-Times. You can reach her at aviva.orenstein@gmail.com.