When I was growing up, we had a regular annual family vacation all the years I remember. We packed up the whole clan and went to Sea Isle City, New Jersey for two weeks. I think that we tried one week, but Dad said that it was too much work for one week, so we changed it to two. Both my parents were from Philly, so we usually saw relatives while we were on the east coast. Mom was an organizational genius. She rarely gets credit for this. When we went to the coast, we packed 14 people in a 15 passenger van, including luggage and some bedding, without using a roof rack. Everything had to fit in the van. Oh, and we ate three meals on the road, which mom packed in advance. I remember the day before we left, Mom would present Catherine and me with a tiny suitcase (smaller than a carry on). We were to pack for two weeks in that suit case. We had to share it. Now, the rental house always had a washer and dryer, which Mom kept humming all two weeks (fun vacation, huh?). And we usually wore our swim suits on the beach most of the day. But still, it was tiny. Then Dad would jam these tiny suitcases under the bench seats in the van. He would lay between the benches and yell for the next suitcase when one was properly placed. It was a sweaty, ugly job. The foot of space behind the back seat was for blankets and bedding stuff. Sleeping bags were put down between bench seats for sleeping during the drive (safety second). And the coveted aisle also had a sleeping bag. I hear the aisle was the best place to sleep, but I don’t know because I was always jammed on the HOT floor, facing suitcases, because that’s where the little kids were stuck. To turn over, you had to get up, turn around, and go back down. And you couldn’t sleep on your back because your shoulders didn’t fit. Oh, and you had to deal with the feet from the siblings on the seat above you. I remember this drive as being 15-17 hours long. Oh, and we had to say two full rosaries each way, for obvious reasons…to stop the fighting for 20 minutes.

Mom would jam two coolers between the driver’s seat and passenger’s seat. Those coolers contained three meager meals for 14 people. The three kids in the front seat had to help prepare meals, and had to eat last. I NEVER sat there. Breakfast was (per kid) one hard-boiled egg, one piece of white bread with margarine, and a cup of milk (Mom brought two whole gallons of milk). Lunch was a bologna and cheese sandwich on white bread and a cup of milk. Dinner was a piece of cold meatloaf on a piece of white bread and a cup of milk. I still love cold meatloaf. And she had a snack of orange or green jelly candies. The sandwiches were made on the fly on top of the coolers. The eggs were peeled on the fly. The back of the van always got fed first. I tried to get as close to the back as possible, without having to share a row with too many farty boys.

One year, the van started making a funny noise and wasn’t moving well (imagine that!). We pulled into a service station and Dad begged for someone to look at it. I still remember piling out of the van, much to the service station manager’s amazement, and sitting on an area of grass. Mom had the older kids pull out the coolers and we had one of our meals there on the lawn of the service station. One by one, each employee came out and tried not to look like he was staring at our rough and tumble clan camped out on their lawn. I don’t remember how long we were there, or even where it was, but those mechanical miracle workers got the van running smooth again, and we were back on the road. They may still talk about that crazy family from Illinois in the van.

Another time, we made an uncharacteristic stop in Philadelphia on our way through. I think some relative was sick, so the 14 of us should clearly pop in to make them feel better. It was during the gas crisis, and you could only fill your tank on even or odd numbered days, based on your license plate. For us, it was the wrong day. Still, we waited in an hour long line to get gas. The only reason I remember this is because Mom bought each of us one item (either a soda or shake) from McDonalds while we waited. This NEVER happened before. When we got to the front of the line, they wouldn’t let us get gas. Dad had us pile out and asked the guy where the 14 of us should stay that night, maybe he had room at his house. They let us buy a half of a tank to get to the shore.

We rented the bottom half of a duplex house at Sea Isle. It slept 12 if you counted the pull out sofa sleeper. We were already two over. The truth is that we usually had some relatives spend the night, so we usually ended up with way more than that. One time, we counted 27 people sleeping at the house. Every inch of floor space was full, including under the kitchen table (a prime spot since you wouldn’t get stepped on). Some slept on the porch. That is crazy!

When it was time to go home, Mom make us clean that house to perfection. She was always grateful to the owners for renting to us. Ownership of the house changed once in all the years we rented. The old owners told the new owners about us, and the new owners continued to let us rent it. The owner told us that she never had to clean after we left. It seems like small consolation for that type of chaos, but it worked.

I also collected a few stories from family members about vacations before I joined the clan as the 11th kid. Here are a couple that they shared.

Before the big van, the family used to take vacations to Lake Minnewawa in Minnesota. The last trip to Lake Minnewawa was taken with 10 kids and two adults in one station wagon, driving 8 hours to northern Minnesota with everything in the car for a two week vacation. Chevy Chase could not compete with the humor on this. The bumper was inches from the ground except when we hit a bump…then the bumper hit the ground. If you saw this car on the highway loaded with people and luggage, it was shocking. Even more amazing was when we stopped at a gas station and you watched 12 people explode from this one small car to race to the bathrooms. As usual, Mom always managed to pack all the food we’d need to eat while taking a long drive for vacations. Liquids were rationed to prevent unnecessary stops.

On one of those trips, the family stopped in Minnesota to visit old neighbors (it’s a little known fact that the Weizeorick family lived in Pennsylvania, Michigan, and Minnesota before settling permanently in the Chicagoland area). Mom talked Dad into bringing three of the McGuire kids home with us for a week or two. So we added three more kids to the 12 people in the car. I’m sure Mr. and Mrs. McGuire tried to run after the car and grab their kids as they saw it driving down the street with the bumper bouncing off the ground, but this was before cell phones, so off to Illinois the clan went.

I am way over my word limit this week (like 2x), so I must stop. I know that there are cousins that have stories to share from the Sea Isle days. Please share. We love to relive the glory days.