Vacation and Dads

My youngest brother got married last week on the beach. I got to perform the wedding. It was awesome. I even upped the technological ante and performed the ceremony from my mom’s Kindle Paperwhite. Yes, I am that cool.

That's me and my mom's Kindle between those two highly rude photobombers (i.e, bride and groom), and the two real bombers in the back.

That’s me and my mom’s Kindle between those two highly rude photobombers (i.e, bride and groom), and the two real bombers in the back.

Following the wedding, we went on vacation to our usual place near Disney. Vacation is always a wonderful time of sleeping in a foreign bed, sitting uncomfortably by a pool for hours on end, spending hundreds of thousands of dollars on theme park tickets, and eating lots and lots of expensively greasy food.

Marrying off my brother, checking into familiarity, spending millions on theme parks, and making unforgettable memories.

Marrying off my brother, checking into familiarity, spending millions on theme parks, and making unforgettable memories.

While all of the above is true, there’s something about vacation that really is kinda awesome. We were lucky enough to inherit my parent’s timeshare a couple years ago. Well, we didn’t really inherit it, we were just the only ones willing to take on the yearly “maintenance fees”, or so they’re called. I would never actually buy one of those things. But since I inherited it, it was already paid off, leaving me with only the yearly fees. If we get two vacations a year out of it, we more than make up our money. But if it ever boils down to only one a year, we’d be in the hole.

And I guess that’s the advantage of those things. They pretty much force us to take family vacations every year because if we don’t, we’re wasting our money. This has been very healthy for our family. My dad bought this timeshare when I was sixteen. Dad started that vacation in a rat infested hades hole, and the next day, we owned a timeshare. Yay for me. I also bungee jumped for the first time that week. Good times, good times.

So every time we go to the familiar vacation site, I’m filled with memories. When I walk into that condo, I can see my dad, sitting at the end of the dining room table, reading his Bible as he did nearly every morning on our vacations. It’s a place filled with family memories, and for that reason, it’s very special.

And now I’m getting the chance to make similar memories with my kids. Hopefully one day they’ll walk into that place when I’m not there and see me sitting at the table. Although, if things continue the way they have been, they’ll likely remember me staring down a pile of Legos while yelling at the creators of those ridiculous instruction booklets.

But hey, a memory’s a memory, right?

2.5 hrs and 49 pages later, I officially hated Lego.

2.5 hrs and 49 pages later, I officially hate Lego.

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