Childhood Memories of Family Vacations

What is a vacation? I’m sure people reading this may wonder what kind of a question is that? I mean everyone knows what a vacation is, right? As I started writing this story, I learned a valuable lesson that the term vacation has different meanings to different people depending on their personal experiences. My childhood experiences with vacations were probably different than most people my age.


Some families take a vacation to Disneyland (I always wished my family could have done this) while others may go to Yellowstone National Park and other families visit grandma and grandpa. Taking a vacation often depends on many factors such as the family financial situation, whether the bread winner has paid vacation time, and perhaps whether the parents experienced vacations as they grew up or see  the value in going on one. Some may even believe that vacations are a waste of time and money.


As for my family, we went on only one vacation, and we went on it every year. It was never a fancy, expensive place but as children we looked forward to going on this trip. The trip usually only lasted two or three days unless a holiday was sandwiched into it, allowing us to spend an extra day or two. My dad was a barber who didn’t earn much and had no paid leave, so even taking this trip was an expense that required a financial sacrifice. 


Every summer Mom and Dad would pile my three sisters and me into the family car, prepare some goodies to eat on the way (stopping for snacks was not in the budget) and head to Grandma and Grandpa Cazier’s in Afton, Wyoming. For me, it was always fun and exciting to spend time with my cousins and aunts and uncles. I got to work with them hauling hay, moving sprinklers, and milking cows among other chores. 


We usually tried to time the trip to coincide with the annual Star Valley Rodeo, held on the 4th of July or on the 24th of July. It was great fun to sit in the grandstand and watch the cowboys and cowgirls (my cousin was a barrel rider) show off their skills. The clowns were always one of the highlights of the night.


It was at one of these rodeos that I tasted a corn dog for the first time, and I was sold on it. I loved to eat them, and I still remember that day whenever I bite into one. I seem to remember that it was my grandma who exposed me to this treat by buying my first one.


Because it was a small rodeo and I didn’t like to sit still, my cousin Roger and I would leave the grandstand to wander around and talk to friends and the cowboys and pretty much disappear for the night. It was always cold, so we wore our jackets, and even then I remember shivering so hard that my teeth chattered. But it was always worth the trip to Afton. 


Over the years I have seen many rodeos in various forums and locations. I’ve watched cowboys get bucked off horses and bulls, I’ve watched them rope a calf (or not rope it), and I’ve watched in awe as bulls chased the cowboys, and the clowns trying to protect cowboys from mad bulls and jumping into a rubber barrel to protect himself just before the bull butted it. I have watched rodeos in an indoor arena, and I’ve been to other small-town rodeos. I have a granddaughter who loves rodeos and takes her children to watch at least one every summer. But none of these rodeos have the same feeling and excitement as the rodeos I watched as a boy in Afton, Wyoming.


Other than this annual trip to Afton I don’t think we ever went anywhere else as a family, except I do remember my mom and dad taking a detour on one of these annual trips to visit some of their very good friends, Dave and Virtue Wallentine, from Paris, Idaho. Dave was also a dairy farmer. This was an unusual trip because we visited them for three days, making this the longest vacation we ever took. Even though it was just a stop on the way to our annual trip to Star Valley, it is the only vacation I remember that was in the slightest way different from any of our other trips.


So, when it comes to my most memorable vacation, I have to say that all my childhood vacations were the same in the very best kind of way, we knew what was going to happen on these trips and we still always looked forward to going.


In the years since, I have taken my children on fancier and longer vacations to more exotic places farther away than Afton, Wyoming, but I don’t think they were any more memorable or meaningful.


I have learned that it’s not where you go for vacation that creates the memories but rather it is the feeling of love and closeness that can be developed while traveling together and deciding what to do or sacrificing your desire for the family’s wishes. Having a good time with family is what makes vacations memorable.



Happy Failing Forward,