Every Christmas we’d pack up and head north (North!) to the panhandle of Texas and visit my flock of relatives in Dumas. You’ve got to understand that there is very little in between the tundra of the Arctic and the panhandle of Texas to stop those blue Northers, and in late December it was always a frozen wasteland up there. And I hate the cold.
My grandparent’s house was very small, and with all the uncles, aunts, cousins and assorted local friends packed in there, the inside of the house was about 105 degrees. So, you could only take that for a while, then step outside in the 15 degree cold and 25mph winds until you turned blue, then back in.
At night in the house, since there was no central heating, and the room they put the kids in had no space heater, they would pile quilts on top of us. Once you got in the bed, you couldn’t move…it was like pressed flowers in a book. Better not need to go to the bathroom or develop an itch on your foot, cause you were stuck.
The only extended vacation I can remember during the summer was a trip to Six Flags over Texas (a huge amusement park) near Dallas. That was a fun trip. And we went up to Kansas after that to visit my aunt. But seriously, Kansas? For vacation? You’d better love combine harvesters and wheat fields, cause there’s just not a whole lot of anything else to look at.