Lost Luggage

Lost Luggage

When our son Noah was 4 or 5 we took him on his first plane trip to Aruba for a week’s vacation.

I bought a set of matching suitcases on wheels in three sizes –  the big one for my husband,  the middle one for me,  and the small one for Noah,  and once we got to the airport he watched intently as the agent weighed and labeled our luggage,  proudly telling her which suitcase was his.

All during the flight he was spellbound in his window seat.  Then when we landed in Aruba and stood at the luggage carousel,  he watched eagerly for our three suitcases.   He spotted the big one first,   then the middle one –  but alas his little one was nowhere to be seen.

By then Noah was in tears when a kindly airport porter realizing the situation said they could go to the lost luggage room and look for the missing suitcase.

And so hand in hand the two of them disappeared behind a wall at the back of the carousel to come back a few minutes later,  Noah now all smiles.   Waving goodbye to the porter,  and pulling his little suitcase behind him,  he was now ready to begin our sunny Caribbean vacation!

(For more about that lovely trip see Aruba Nights)

– Dana Susan Lehrman

Plane and Train Fails

We hated the drive to Detroit to visit my family when our three kids were young. In those days, it was six hours of torture. They were not great car travelers and entertainment options were limited to coloring and puzzle books, my reading to or singing with them, and I Spy type games. When boredom set in, fighting was also an option. Thus, we decided to try planes and then trains to get there more quickly. Both ended up being disasters.

Sometime in the late 1970s, we booked a flight to Detroit. Air travel was much easier back then. I think there were metal detectors to pass through, but my parents would be waiting in the area where we deplaned. Unfortunately, hijackers, or “skyjackers” as they were known then, were still commandeering planes. Sometimes they demanded to go to another country, most often Cuba. Luckily for us, the person who threatened our flight just wanted a ransom.

Around the time of our ill-fated plane trip

Upon arrival in Detroit, we were herded into a large room while my parents waited helplessly outside. No one explained the plan, but we assumed they were going to keep us there until someone confessed to making the threat. If we thought the drive to Detroit with our little ones was bad, this was a real nightmare. They were hungry, frightened, and bored, and the baby needed a diaper change. I think they kept us for a few hours, although no one talked to us. I do remember begging them to let us give our children to my parents, who were just outside the door, as they were too young to be questioned. Permission denied, although shortly after that exchange they released us with no explanation.

Thus, planes were out for future visits. But we still hated that drive and decided a train might be fun next time. Before the train left the station, we had a morning dental visit for the kids. The dentist decided our middle child needed a few baby teeth pulled. He claimed it wouldn’t be a big deal, but she cried and bled as the train slowly chugged its way to Detroit. It was definitely not an express train and the many stops did not delight the kids. They quickly became bored with looking out of the windows (have you ever driven between Chicago and Detroit?). The only improvement over a car trip was that two adults were free to entertain them and they could move around. On the other hand, it took longer than driving and there was plenty of whining. Turns out, they were more excited about looking at trains than actually riding them.

Ready to board a train this time?

Fast forward to now. There are just two of us to consider and we still don’t love long driving trips. But our rule of thumb is, if we can get there in under eight hours, we drive. Air travel in 2022 is an unpredictable nightmare and often ends up taking longer than driving once we factor in the wait time, security, delays, and cancellations. If we ever get high speed rail in this country, that would be great, but I’m afraid I won’t see that in my lifetime. While we are dreading the six-hour drive to Cleveland for a wedding in two weeks, at least we know we will arrive in time for the ceremony.

Sadly, we still can’t count on planes or trains to get us where we are going.

Not Grimm But Grim

Most American youngsters learned their Fairy Tales from Aesop and the Grimm Brothers and Hans Christian Anderson. Me? I was a ‘T. V. Baby’ and that electronic device was my friend and baby sitter (and later boy sitter) so I got Rocket J. Squirrel, Bullwinkle The Moose, Boris, Natasha et al for breakfast, some times lunch and most weekday afternoons. (Saturdays was Sci Fi theatre with Major Mudd.

There was Fractured Fairy Tales where stories got mixed up with other stories; mermaids who granted wishes (later updated to I Dream of Genie), two dimensional poems with color and sound, Mister Peabody’s Time Travels with Peabody The Dog and Sherman the human boy companion. (How I envied Sherman).

There was Tennessee Tuxedo, Underdog, the unforgettable Flintstones (beloved by religious literalists because it displayed humans and dinosaurs living together.)

Let me not forget to mention Cecil The Seasick Sea Serpent co-starring Beany (a young boy about my age who flew around courtesy of his propeller driven hat. I tried that form of levitation but it did not work for me.) There was also Woody Woodpecker, Popeye, Bugs Bunny and Felix The Cat.

I was not until Junior High School and my intense interest in Ancient History, Roman and Hellenic studies, that I restarted my now lifetime in interest in reading.

It was my grandmother Mary (or was it Doris?) who said ‘As the twig is bent so the tree shall grow’ meaning that watching so much TV must have had some affect on me but at least succumbing to Reefer Madness was not one of them.

 

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They Could’ve Danced All Night

My favorite fairy tale? Hands down, it’s “The Twelve Dancing Princesses.” Why? The princesses would dress up every night and disappear though a secret tunnel to dance the night away with handsome princes. They would return the next morning, their shoes worn out from dancing.  I loved that story, partly because of the new shoes they got every day, but I also liked the part about getting dolled up like that every night, sneaking out, and not getting caught.

I have two beautifully illustrated versions of this story. It’s almost a TL;DR kind of tale. Lots of build-up that ends, predictably, with a wedding. But it’s a fairy tale, so it has to end happily ever after.

But for me, it was always about the shoes. And the dancing.

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The Naked Emperor

The Naked Emperor

As a young kid I’m sure when The Emperor’s New Clothes was read to me I was delighted by a boy much wiser than the grownups,  and unafraid to laugh at the foolish and naked ruler.

And later when I was older and read the tale myself I surely appreciated the clever satire,  the pomposity and the egotism of the emperor,  and the deviousness and the cowardice of his sycophants.

But now as a grownup in Trumpworld,  Hans Christian Andersen’s fairy tale seems to have lost its innocence and some of its charm.

These days it hits too close to home.

RetroFlash  /  100 Words

Dana Susan Lehrman