See the USA, in your Chevrolet

By Trump administration grifting standards, Sean Duffy's Great American Road Trip, a YouTube series dropping this month, is no big deal. The "reality" show features Duffy and his wife (Fox News host Rachel Campos-Duffy) and a large sampling of their kids (there are nine of them in total) visiting tourist spots across the country. Its supposed purpose is to get Americans to hop in the car with the kids and explore the US of A to celebrate our 250th anniversary. 

Calling the trip a "civic experience," Duffy is urging true red-white-and-blue Americans to “gas up the car, pack up the kids, get behind the wheel and get out and see America.”

Duffy is the telegenic Secretary of Transportation, a former reality star with an equally telegenic wife and kiddos.

Duffy and Campos-Duffy, also a former “Real World” and “Road Rules” cast member, said the program was filmed in “short” production windows like weekends and their childrens’ breaks from school, and that their family would not receive a salary or royalties from the show. (Source: Forbes)

And at NO expense to the taxpayers. Or so they say.

I'd wait until we see some sort of an audit - as if! - but I seem to remember Duffy's boss claiming that he, Trump himself, was picking up the tab for the Big Beautiful Ballroom. Then that generous, patriotic Americans (like Jeff Bezos) who don't want a thing out of Trump - or at least their generous patriotic companies which don't want a thing out of Trump - were paying for it. Until we found out that the cost estimates had grown from $200M to $1B, and that the taxpayers would be footing the bill.

But the claim is that a non-profit is underwriting the show:

The Great American Road Trip says it is a nonprofit 501(c)(4) organization that is “fully funding its own efforts to celebrate and share America’s story.” It lists several major sponsors, including Boeing, Toyota, Shell, Royal Caribbean, United Airlines, Google and Enterprise, but it is unclear how much money these companies have contributed and if those funds were used for the reality show. 

Well, it's not like Boeing, Toyota, Shell, Royal Caribbean, United Airlines, or Enterprise would want anything out of the Department of Transportation. Or that Google doesn't have any interest in what the Federal government does. So even if their contributions are funding the show, it's not as if these generous, patriotic corporations would expect any tit for tat for their organizations. Geez Louise, some folks are so cynical! If nothing else, the Trump Administration has always acted in an ethical, honest, transparent, and above board manner. (/s)

And what's this about encouraging  families to "gas up" and hit the road? I suppose since he's not exactly filling up the old station wagon out of his own pocket, Sean Duffy isn't all that aware about sticker shock at the pump.

Anyway, I watched part of the trailer and I have to say that the idea of a roadtrip does sound like fun. 

The Duffy family got to go fun places and do fun things, including a stop at the former firehouse in my neighborhood that was where Real World: Boston, which Duffy appeared in, was filmed. (This is more famously the place where Spenser lived in the 1980's series Spenser for Hire. And it's where I vote. Just not for Trump, Duffy, and their ilk.) Sorry I missed them when they were in my hood.

But I do kinda-sorta envy someone taking a road trip, even if the Duffy family's was done sporadically and doesn't quite fit my definition of a road trip, which doesn't include flying someplace for a weekend and pretending you drove there.

I'd love to go on a road trip. At least in theory. I'd probably get sick of all those hours in the car, the sketchy restrooms, the worn out motels, the boring diner food. And anyway, I don't need to put taking a road trip on my non-existent bucket list, as way back in the way back, I actually did go on one.

Late summer/early autumn of 1972, my college roommate and I - out of school with nothing in particular lined up to do - saw the USA. Not in a Chevrolet, as the ubiquitous ads of our childhood promoted, but in Joyce's Karmann Ghia.

We took the Northern route cross-country, the Southern route back.

On the first day, we drove through NY State during a near-tropical rainstorm. Destination: Niagara Falls, which we took in from both the US and Canadian sides. (On our way back into the country, US Customs tossed our car, removing every item from our carefully packed trunk looking for illicit drugs. Wrong girls! We were way, way, way, too cautious for that nonsense.)

Our next stop was Chicago, where we visited my grandmother and other family members. My cousin Ellen, who's the same age as Joyce and I, was very pregnant with Kate, her first child. Here was Ellen: all grown up, married, and having a baby, while Joyce and I were sporting around the country in a Karmann Ghia. 

Chicago was the last time we had a roof over our heads for a while, as we spent most of our nights on the road in state, federal, or KOA campgrounds, with an occasional splurge for a hotel (as when we stopped in Las Vegas).

It was a fabulous, and fabulously memorable, trip.

We stayed in many of our breathtakingly-beautiful national parks. Even the ludicrous faces on Mount Rushmore were in the breathtakingly-beautiful Black Hills. 

It was fun playing tourist, taking in the natural beauty of our vast and varied country while also enjoying the roadside attractions (e.g., Wall Drug in SD) and the wonders of the cities. (You try driving a manual shift car in San Francisco. I dare you.)

A full recounting of our road trip will have to wait for another day. So many highlights. Camping in Sequoia National Park when a mother black bear and her cubs decide to explore our campsite and nose around the well of our tent. (We spent the night sleeping inthe car, no small feat in a tiny Karmann Ghia.) The wonders f the San Diego Zoo. The squalor of Tijuana. (We crossed on foot. The one and only time I've set foot in Mexico.)

When we were driving into New Orleans - where we ate Oysters Rockefeller and Pompano en Papillote at Antoine's, another trip splurge  - Arlo Guthrie's City of New Orleans was blasting on the radio. How was that for timing?

So I absolutely understand why folks might want to heed Sean Duffy's call to get on the road. 

It's just that, giving everything that's going on, the timing's a bit off. 

And so is narcissistically using your family to showcase our complex, beautiful, and interesting country. Not to mention doing so at on behalf of the corporations you're supposed to be regulating.

As I said, by Trump standards, the grift is quite tiny. 

Still, when it comes to personally benefiting whenever and by whatever means are available, there's just no stopping this gang, is there?

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Image Source: Amazon, 

"Catch me if you can"? Will do!

When I was a kid, I avidly read the book The Great Impostor, which chronicled the exploits of one Ferdinand Waldo Demara, a Massachusetts-born conman who, among other things, forged (fake) careers as a Trappist monk, Benedictine monk, engineer, teacher,  psychologist, prison warden, lawyer, and surgeon. He also founded a college that, miraculously, is still in existence. That many of his exploits involved Catholic institutions made the story all the more interesting to me. (The book formed the loose basis for a movie of the same name, with Demara played by Tony Curtis. I'm sure I saw it at some point, and may look it up one of these days.)

Fast forward to Catch Me If You Can,

a very enjoyable 2002 movie starring Leo DiCaprio as Frank Abagnale, conman extraordinaire. Like DeMara, Abagnale (supposedly) impersonated a doctor, lawyer, and airline pilot along his merry way. As an airline pilot - which is a little scarier a thought than being a lawyer, and a lot scarier a thought than being a doctor, but is REALLY SCARY, I don't think Abagnale ever actually flew a plane. He just deadheaded (cadged free flights), forged checks, and recruited (and physically examined) potential stewardesses - guess that's where being a fake doctor helped.

(Having found it difficult enough to fake my way through professions I was actually skilled at and/or educated for - like waitress and product marketer - the idea of making a career up out of whole cloth is fascinating to me.)

Frank Abagnale isn't the only one who pretended to be a pilot to fly for free. 

Federal prosecutors accused a Canadian man on [January 20, 2026] of doing just that, charging him with wire fraud for a scheme in which they say he pretended to be a pilot and a flight attendant to get hundreds of trips for free.

The man, Dallas Pokornik, used a false identification badge to defraud three airlines of travel benefits, according to an indictment filed in federal court in Hawaii. Mr. Pokornik, 33, had previously worked for a Toronto-based airline as a flight attendant between 2017 and 2019, court documents said, but not as a pilot. (Source: NY Times)

Impersonating a flight attendant for a free flight - which many airlines provide to colleagues at other airlines - is bad enough. Fraud, sure. Theft, absolutely. But pretty much no harm, no foul. And bad enough he scammed his way into free seats in the cabin. On some of his free flights - and there were many of them over the course of four years, on several different airlines - Pokornik, pretending to be a flyboy, asked for and was given a jump seat in the cockpit. Where, presumably, he could have been called on to assist if something happened to the pilot or copilot. Given that his in-flight experience was as a flight attendant, what was he going to do? Offer the other pilot a Biscoff cookie or a barf bag? 

The airlines Pokornik defrauded weren't named in the article, but "one [was] based in Honolulu, one in Chicago and one in Fort Worth." I'm a pretty good guesser, and I'm guessing Hawaiian Airlines, United, and American. I've never flown Hawaiian, but, yeah, I've been on United and American plenty of times. Wonder if Pokornik was ever in the seat next, or maybe even in the cockpit?

Pokornik is in line for a hefty fine and prison sentence. Wonder if it'll end up being worth the free flights he conned his way into?

Pokornik flew down the "catch me if you can" gauntlet, and apparently the airlines took him up on it. 

Anyway, he's grounded now.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Image Source: Netflix

Americans are looking to find sus sonrisas bonitas en Mexico

Throughout my life, I have been fortunate to enjoy excellent dental care.

My childhood dentist was Dr. Leo Wigdor, who having acquired the practice of Dr. Simpson, my father's childhood dentist, moved to Worcester after the war. Dr. Wigdor was a terrific dentist and real character. As I recall, the son of Eastern European Jewish immigrants, he had grown up in Missouri - on a mule farm? can that be right? During the war, he was stationed at Fort Monmouth, NJ where at some point he made the acquaintance of Julius Rosenberg. A patient, maybe? In any case, according to Dr. Wigdor, "Julius Rosenberg was as guilty as sin."

After I moved to Boston, I still went back to Worcester for a few years, then switched to a dentist in Boston on the recommendation of some folks I worked with. He was fine, but retired soon after I began seeing him. On the recommendation of some other folk I worked with - the man I eventually married - I started seeing Dr. Edwin Riley III, a most excellent dentist. His son Dr. Edwin IV is my current dentist. Another excellent dentist, and chip off the old block.

Whenever I've seen a dentist or endodontist (I've had a few root canals along the way), they have told me that it's obvious that I had very good dental care as a kid. (It helped that I inherited my mother's high quality teeth.) I may still have a filling or two that's been in my mouth for over 60 years. This reaction is different than that experienced by my husband. He had grown up poor in a small town in Vermont. When he got to college, he fell and broke a tooth. When the dentist looked in Jim's mouth, his first words were "country boy, eh?"

So lucky me. Good teeth. Good dentists. And able to afford good dentists, even when I didn't have dental insurance. Which has been most of the time.

Other than routine care, I've had a couple of root canals and a couple of crowns. And, thanks to my using my teeth as implements for tasks other than chomping over the years - e.g., using my teeth to open a tiny hotel bottle of shampoo - I do have a couple of veneers on front teeth that became way, way, way too chipped. 

As I said, lucky me.

Dental care, of course, can be expensive. Oh, sure, there's dental insurance. But most people don't have it, and it tends to cover preventive and routine care, rather than bigger deal procedures like root canals, which under most policies is partially covered, if at all.

So some people are finding their way to Mexico, to the town of Los Algodones, just across the Arizona border which has pretty much become La Cuidad Dentistas. Or, as it's come to be more popularly known, Molar City, the place where dental tourists can come to save a lot of money. 

In 1969, Dr. Bernardo Magaña, newly graduated from dental college at the National Autonomous University of Mexico, set up shop directly across the street from border control. Within a year, he was treating dozens of patients a day, most of them Americans. It would be more than a decade before many other dentists joined him. The town was just too rough, Magaña’s son, Bernardo, who now runs the practice with his brother and his mother, told me. “So my dad took it upon himself to clean it up.” In the early eighties, Magaña was elected mayor of Los Algodones. Backed by the state government in nearby Mexicali, he cracked down on vice and shuttered the most notorious establishments in town. Year by year, the bars gave way to dental clinics, the partygoers to patients. According to Roberto Díaz and Paula Hahn, who run a website about medical tourism called Border CRxing, Los Algodones now has the highest per-capita concentration of dentists in the world: well over a thousand in a population of fifty-five hundred. (Source: The New Yorker)

That is an awful lot of dentists. Massachusetts has about 5,600 dentists for a population of a bit over 7 million. Or, one dentist for every 1,250 people. Far better than the national average, which is about one dentist for roughly 1,800 folks. Which is a very far cry from one dentist for five-and-a-half mouths.

But mostly the Algodones dentists are caring for Americans, not locals.

“My family dentist when I was a kid, there was something wrong with the guy,” James Murphy, a retired bookstore clerk from Rhode Island, told me, between spins on a Dragon Link slot machine. “He drilled every tooth in my head. That’s what made my teeth rotten. But he was Irish, and you got to go with the Irish guy.” Murphy was due to fly home the following day with a full set of implants in his upper jaw, and he’d be back in three months to do the bottom teeth. The total cost would be seventeen thousand dollars. “I’ve never smiled so much,” he said. “Back home, it would have been thirty-nine thousand just for the top. And they wonder why people are coming here."

Oh, Jimbo. Your family should have scooted up Route 146 to see Dr. Leo B. Wigdor (who, I will note, replaced the Irish-American dentist of my father's childhood).

People flock to Molar City from all over. Many are snowbirds who flee the winters in the North to spend the winter in Arizona. Others, like James Murphy, find it's worthwhile to travel because dental care there is so cheap. 

There are other medical reasons to cross the border:

Cut-rate pharmacies, opticians, dermatologists, massage therapists, hair-transplant specialists, and exotic medical practitioners line the streets around the dental clinics, promising deals unheard of back in the U.S.

What, pray tell - or is it prey tell - is an exotic medical practitioner? Need to know basis, I guess, and I don't need to know.  

Anyway, there are plenty of reasons to want to have a good set of choppers. You look better. You feel better. And, let's face it, your job and social prospects are a lot better if you have all your teeth and they're some shade of white. 

But there can be at least a little something to say for not having teeth that are too perfect.

When I was a kid, the only kids I knew who wore braces had something seriously wrong with their teeth. I had crooked, crowded lower teeth, as did my sister Kath. But my brother Tom had some kind of weird tooth that grew like a rhino horn out of his upper gum. He got braces. As did my friend Susan, who had a very large gap between her front teeth. Only ritzy people had orthodontia for reasons like crooked teeth. 

My friend Peter grew up in a working class family in Philadelphia. Thanks to his brains and the Jesuits' largesse, Peter got out of Philly and got a great education. But he still had crooked teeth, and as an adult, decided to get braces. One of his friends cautioned against it, warning him that if he straightened his teeth he "risked losing his working class charm."

Peter could afford Boston orthodontia. His teeth look great. He's still charming. 

But for plenty of people, the road to dental happiness runs across the US-Mexican border to Los Algodones.

 ----------------------------------------------------------------------

Image Source: Dreamstime

And for those who don't speak DuoLingo Spanish, sonrisas bonitas are pretty smiles.

Airport Lounging

Back in the day, when I traveled more, when my husband the frequent flyer savant was still with us here on earth, I spent a bit of time in airport lounges. I don't remember all that much about the experience. Yes, it was nice to be able to escape madding crowds at the gates. Yes, it was nice to be able to grab a handful of M&Ms. Yes, it was nice to have access to a marginally cleaner toilet. But mostly it was outright meh, or meh adjacent.

Oh, there were a couple of rememorable times.

On a trip to someplace in Eastern Europe, we had a multi-hour layover in Frankfurt, and having access to the lounge was a true blessing. I've flown into and through there more than a few times, and the sound and light show that is Frankfurt Airport always gave me the heebie-jeebies. Way too much going on! Thank you, my beloved frequent flyer savant, for making sure we had enough miles to check into the respite that was the airport lounge.

My only other memorable airport lounge experience was seeing David Powers, JFK's aide and wingman, in the Aer Lingus lounge at Logan. That was a way in the way back, as Powers (I had to check) has been dead since 1998.)

These days, I barely travel. And when I do, I'm stuck at the gate with the rest of the great unwashed. 

I haven't felt I was missing much. It's not as if the lounges were like this snazzy, mid-century modern PanAm lounge of yore, with a solicitous bartender in a dinner jacket mixing drinks for at the side of a little cocktail table. 

But for some folks, lounges are a big deal. The airport lounge industry - who knew there even was one? - is estimated to be worth $4.21 billion, and forecast to more than double by 2029. 

Lounge visits were up by 31 percent in 2024 over 2023. So someone's checking in hoping to rub elbows with whoever today's Dave Powers might be. 

What's fueling growth?

According to writer David Mack, it's:

...millennials who balk at the cost of a first-class ticket but can afford an annual credit card fee. Even though demand for travel appears to be waning amid an uncertain economy, what hasn’t changed is the extent to which social media and influencer culture peddle these lounges as a key ingredient of the good life. (Source: NY Times)

Chase offers a premium credit card - the Chase Sapphire Reserve - that opens the door to lounges worldwide. Their annual fee is "jumping from $550 to an eye-popping $795." In addition to a lot of other lounges of mixed quality and pizzazz, Chase has opened some fancy lounges of its own, and has plans for more. 

Capital One also has a lounge access card, and some lounges of its own. Alas, while Capital One is in my wallet, it's not one of the premium cards. So I'll just have to be thankful that I accumulate points, and continue to cool my heels at the gate. 

There's also something called Priority Pass that lets you into a ton of lounges. You can pay a minimum annual fee and then pay a per use fee every time you use a lounge, or pay for premium membership.

Alas, all these premiums may not be premium enough to get you into the lounge at your moment of need. So many people want in that there are physical and digital waiting lines. All for what is often a pretty mediocre, worn-out lounge that's closer to the breakfast room at a Motel6 than it is to a swank hotel lobby.

But as demand for lounge access revs up, so does the supply of upscale lounges that appeal to those who can afford more than costly (to me) yet pedestrian credit card access that's one step above the hoi polloi gate experience, but may not own or rent a private jet.

International airlines are going further and further to attract those truly wealthy customers willing to fork over thousands for top-class travel. In Helsinki, Finland, you can take a sauna before consuming a reindeer burger. In Doha, Qatar, you can relax in a Jacuzzi, drive in an F1 racing simulator or take a nap in a private bedroom. In Paris, you can dine in a private suite on food prepared by the renowned chef Alain Ducasse, then be driven in a luxury sedan on a tarmac to your plane. 

Saunas? Jacuzzis? F1 simulator? And here I was, back when I was part of the airport lounging class, grateful for a handful of M&Ms.

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Image Source: Airport History.org

Yesterday's space shot? Yep, amid the celeb nonsense, there's some inspiration in there

My husband had an abiding interest in physics in general and space exploration in particular. A few weeks before he died, he told me that he'd "pay a million bucks to have my ashes flown into space." Well, I loved my husband, but my response to that - which, by the way, he did agree with - was that "this is the brain tumor talking." But I did hop online and found an outfit that rocketed cremains into space. I told Jim that there was an orbital flight that would be heading out in a couple of years, but a straight up and down shot taking off in the fall. We dubbed the orbital flight the John Glenn, since he was the first American astronaut to circumnavigate earth from space. The straight shot we named the Alan Shepard, the first American astronaut to take flight, which just went up and down.

Jim chose the Alan Shepard, as it was sooner and cheaper. 

So the fall after he died, Jim got his space shot. I have the little metal "space capsule" they returned his bit of ashes in. It sits on my mantel in a tiny Connemara marble urn, which fittingly unites two of Jim's great loves: space and Ireland.

Anyway, if he were alive, I can absolutely see Jim being interested in taking a Blue Origin flight. (And I can absolutely see myself talking him out of it.)

Blue Origin is the Jeff Bezos' space tourism outfit that sends civilians on paid journeys into the wild blue yonder.

And yesterday, Blue Origin sent the first all female "crew" on a ten minute trip into space. I put "crew" in quotes because I think they didn't actually have to do much, like flip switches and conduct experiments, which is what actual astronauts do. I'm pretty sure their role was strictly passenger. Still, they took what I'm sure was a trip of a lifetime.

It's interesting, but not surprising, that the overwhelming percent of those who are doing space travel are men. On my husband's trip, I don't remember that there were any women among his fellow travelers. 

So a key part of the "positioning" of yesterday's Blue Origin flight was that it would inspire young women and girls to become more interested in matters space-related. 

But I don't think this quite squares with the "crew" they chose.

Why, there's Katy Perry in her cute little electric-blue spacesuit. There's Gayle King, the Good Morning, America host and BFF of Oprah Winfrey. And Jeff Bezos' fiancée Lauren Sanchez. (At least Sanchez had the decency to keep her cute little electric-blue spacesuit zipped up. In her last high-visibility public appearance, she was at Trump's inauguration with her boobs hanging out.)

Yes, I realize that Katy Perry will attract a lot of attention because she's, well, Katy Perry. But will that attention inspire interest in becoming a STEM girl, or will it inspire trying to become a singer-celeb who can afford to take a Blue Origin flight?

Although I did see her once in a restaurant in Charleston, SC, I don't know a lot about Gayle King. But my impression is that she is intelligent, pleasant, and good at her jobs as news/entertainment show host and Oprah BFF. Her wikipedia bio now states that she's a "commercial astronaut." Huh? She got shot into space, just like my husband's ashes. Does this make Jim a "commercial astronaut" of the posthumous variety?

Pre-Bezos, Lauren Sanchez was a reporter, but now she's a philanthropist who's helping spend Jeff Bezo's money. (Admittedly, his foundations appear to support organizations dedicated to causes like the greening of poor communities, fighting climate change, and trying to solve homelessness. Wonder if Trump knows about that climate change thang?) And, yes, she was a pilot. And she's written a kids' book called "The Fly Who Flew Into Space." But, frankly, I think she'd be more of an inspiration if she wasn't so frequently pictured with her boobs hanging out. The inauguration wasn't a one-off. And why did this perfectly pretty woman fall into the Mar-a-Lago puffy lip enhancement trap???

The other "crew" members included Kerianne Flynn, a film producer who makes indie films that are socially-conscious. She has one coming out about Lilly Ledbetter, the woman who fought the good fight for equal pay for equal work. And she's had a long standing interest in space, so there's that. So, certainly an accomplished person - as, of course, are Perry, King, and Sanchez. But STEM-inspiring?

Then we get down to the two space tourists who actually would be the ones to inspire young woman and girls to pursue space/science/tech careers. Of course, neither Amanda Nguyen nor Aisha Bowe is a celebrity, so they're not getting the play that the others (at least Perry, King, and Sanchez) are.

Amanda Nguyen is a civil rights activist who focuses on the rights of rape and sexual assault survivors. While she was an undergrad at Harvard, studying astrophysics, she interned at NASA and conducted research on exoplanets. (Yeah, I had to look it up: planets outside of the solar system.) She's a bioastronautics researcher - yeah, another one I had to look up: a study of the physical impact of space travel on living organisms - who also spent some time as a fellow at MIT's Media Lab. So, bona fide STEM girl, and someone who's definitely got inspiration written all over her.

But the truly inspiring crew member has got to be Aisha Bowe. She's a former NASA engineer, who had this to say about her journey, and the criticism it has received from those (like me, I guess) who considered yesterday's flight a bit stuntlike, a bit frivolous:

When I decided that I was going to pursue aerospace engineering, it was after my high school guidance counselor told me that I should pursue cosmetology because she did not think that I would be suited for this field. I went from pre-algebra and community college to do two degrees in aerospace engineering, to working for NASA, to being able to sit on the stage and say: ‘It is bigger than the criticism.’ (Source: CNN)

Someone who was advised to become a hairdresser who went on to get bachelor's and master's degrees in aerospace engineering from the University of Michigan? An entrepreneur and STEM-activist who once mentored a 13-year-old girl who grew up to be an aerospace engineer working at Blue Origin? A Black woman, the daughter of a Bahamian immigrant? 

Now THIS is someone who's worthy of the being described as an inspiration! I just love Aisha Bowe's story!

But I'm ending with a shoutout to the original women-in-space inspiration, the estimable Sally Ride!

Wish Sally Ride were still with us. They could have sent her on this all-female Blue Origin trip and left one of the celebrities home.

Those hills are still alive for the Trapp family

I have long been a lover of the Great American Musical. Not anything even vaguely "current." Not a fan of Les Mis, not a fan of Miss Saigon. I may be the only person in America who hasn't seen Hamilton. The most recent musical I have any familiarity with is Rent, and that's been around for about 30 years. 

But give me one of the classics any old time. There's my all time favorite, West Side Story. And South Pacific, Kismet, Show Boat, The Music Man, Oklahoma, My Fair Lay, Pal Joey, Guys and Dolls, Carousel, Peter Pan, Pajama Game, Bye Bye Birdie, The King and I, My Fair Lady, Funny Girl, How to Succeed in Business, and - how could I forget? - The Sound of Music. 

Cue up pretty much any of these, and I can warble through the entire album.

Unless you count the Notre Dame Academy class play, I've never seen The Sound of Music live. Actually, other than The Music Man, which I saw as a kid in summer theater -  a thrilling excursion to the Carousel, a summer stock theater-in-the-round in Framingham - I've never seen any of those classics live. Mostly, I know them through the albums and/or the movies.

And that includes, of course, The Sound of Music. When it first came out in 1965, my friend Susan and I took our younger sibs - her brother Joe, who was five, and my sister Trish who was six - to see it in downtown Worcester, proudly taking the littles on the bus and treating them to the movie and popcorn. The movie hasn't aged all that well - to me, anyway, at nearly three hours it's way too long - but the music is still great. (The original Broadway show music was better. The movie left out "An Ordinary Couple", "How Can Love Survive?", and "No Way to Stop It," replacing them with "I Have Confidence" and "Something Good," which were far inferior.)

Anyway, the movie is ultra-loosely based on the life and times of the von Trapp family singers, who came to America in the late 1930's. Some of the elements are true: Captain von Trapp had been in the Austro-Hungarian navy. (If you're wondering why two landlocked countries needed a navy, the Austro Hungarian (Habsburg) Empire did include countries with coastlines.) Maria von Trapp had been in the convent before taking time out to be a governess. There were a lot of kids. They did sing.

However: there was no thrilling escape over the mountains to flee the Nazis. The family left by train. And there was no romance between sweet, naive Liesl and bad-boy Nazi Rolf. In fact, there was no Liesl. The names and ages of the kids were fictionalized. The family did perform throughout the 1940's and 1950's, but they sang Austrian folk and religious songs, not pop tunes from the musical. (And by the way, the family never made a penny off the Broadway show or the movie. Maria unfortunately sold the rights to their story away for near nichts.)

But there was a von Trapp Family, and they settled in Stowe, Vermont, where they bought a farm - the location reminded them of Austria - and eventually turned it into a lodge.

Remnants of the family still own and run the von Trapp Family Lodge, which is being swanked up and has now been rebranded as the von Trapp Family Lodge and Resort.

It’s currently undergoing a multimillion-dollar renovation with refreshed guest rooms and common spaces. The lodge retains an old-world feel despite the new carpets, upholstery, and wall coverings. It’s still intended to evoke the feeling of staying at a classic chalet in Austria.

Adding “resort” to the name is fitting because the Lodge is more than a place to rest your head on a pillow and dream of Edelweiss. It has a fitness center, indoor pool, sauna, hot tub, disc golf course, tennis courts, pickleball courts, a climbing wall, mountain biking, cross-country skiing, and snowshoeing. You can also tour the sugar house — the Lodge produces its own maple syrup — visit with the herd of Scottish Highland cattle, or meet the sheep. It sits on 2,600 acres, complete with a microbrewery and kaffeehaus. (Source: Boston Globe)

It's sounds all kinds of swell, other than that - or perhaps because - they're not playing "The Lonely Goatherd" and "Do-Re-Mi" on a perpetual loop so that fans of the musical can sing along while they're snow-shoeing or visiting the Scottish Highland cattle.

The place is still owned and operated by echt von Trapps. The manager is Kristina von Trapp Frame, one of Maria and Georg's grandchildren. And they do offer:

...a well-attended daily history tour, which includes an introduction with stories from a staff member who worked at the hotel when Maria von Trapp was still alive. That’s followed by a film featuring Maria returning to Salzburg. At the end of the program, von Trapp Frame comes in to answer any remaining questions.

And guests can collar family members for photo ops. So there's that bit of gemütlichkeit.

Other than the movie "featuring Maria returning to Salzburg" - yawn! - it all sounds very wonderful, and all looks very beautiful. 

But, much as I love Vermont, I won't be yodeling up there anytime soon. Even with the kitsch played down, it's a tiny bit too cornball for my tastes. And there's this:

At one point, my mother and her friend Ethel took a trip to Vermont to stay at the Trapp Family Lodge. This was when Maria was still alive. (She died in 1987.) They were both fans of the show and were thrilled when they had the opportunity to meet Maria up close and personal as she made the rounds in the dining room.

Ethel, who had grown up in New York (and was herself very musical), told Maria that she had seen the family perform at Town Hall in NYC shortly after they came to the States. And Maria von Trapp quite rudely cut Ethel dead, giving her a look that translated into something along the lines of I could give zwei scheisse. Sure, I'm sure it was nothing she hadn't heard a million times. And sure, I'm sure it was boring. But, but, but...This is not the way you treat your guests (i.e., your paying customers). My mother and Ethel were hurt by the cold, borderline nasty way that Maria treated them, and it pretty much ruined the trip. 

How do you solve a problem like that Maria von Trapp? Not that I was going anyway, and not that I think the sins of the grandmother should fall on the granddaughter, but if you're me, you solve it by not patronizing the von Trapp Family Lodge and Resort. 

And now, I must away to put on The Sound of Music (Broadway) CD...

Guess there's no such thing as a free cruise

To begin with, I have no - make that less than no - desire to get on a cruise. Among other things, I'd be nervous about floating on the ocean blue in a giant Petri dish. All that covid! All that norovirus! Blech. If I'm going to spend all my time at sea sitting around my cabin wearing a mask and occsaionally gulping a breath of fresh air through my porthole, I might as well stay home.

No, I don't think I'd go on a cruise, even if one were offered to me for free. 

As happened to Minnesotan Mike Cameron, who, while at a casino, won a free Caribbean cruise on Norwegian. Oh, lucky day! Whose dream wouldn't it be to escape a Minnesota winter for a week in sun and warmth?

Alas, Cameron's luck soon ran out. 

He came down with the flu and went to the ship's medical center for treatment. He recovered in three days, only to be stuck with a bill for $47K that he may well never recover from. 

“I was just flabbergasted by the whole thing. I guess I am just used to the medical system in the United States. I can’t believe it happened,” he said.

The bill came as a shock as crew members assured him not to worry as he received treatment. (Source: NY Post)

Cameron had taken out traveler's ensurance, which should have covered the bill. Little did he know that $20K worth of coverage wouldn't have covered even half of the bill. Nor would his personal health incurance. 

To pay the bill - I was going to say "cover the costs," but $47K worth of charges in no way reflects the true costs of Cameron's treatment; he had the flu, not a lung transplant - "the cruise line maxed out two credit cards Cameron had on file and he still owes $21,000, he added."

“The traveler’s insurance doesn’t want to pay it until we run it by our health insurance. The health insurance doesn’t want to pay it because it’s abroad,” [Cameron's girlfriend Tamra] Masterman explained.

Norwegian sent Cameron a letter that stated "that its pricing was 'closely comparable to other cruise lines and is what we believe to be fair and reasonable.'"

'Closely comparable,' maybe. 'Fair and reasonable? NFW. Even if Norwegian claims that its ships all have "a state-of-the-art onboard medical center, staffed with highly qualified physicians and nurses, to provide care for both guests and crew while at sea.” 

No wonder I have no desire to go on a cruise.

Even if Pierce Brosnan or George Clooney crooned "won't you let me take you on a sea cruise" in my ear, my answer would be no, no, 47 thousand times no.

Now that's what I call a frequent flyer

I like to travel. And by that I mean I generally enjoy being somewhere else. I say generally because, when I was doing my share of business travel, I sometimes ended up in places where I didn't really care to be. (I mean, what was I doing that time in Lynchburg, VA?) But the part of travel that I'm fairly meh on is the getting there part, especially when the getting there part involves flying.

Don't get me wrong. Being able to fly somewhere is great. I certainly wouldn't have made all those trips to the West Coast if I'd had to spend a week on a train getting there, and another week getting back; all those trips to Europe if I'd had to spend a week on an ocean liner getting there, and another week getting back

But, let's face it, airplane travel is a drag. The seats are too tight. The person in the seat in front of you reclines their seat so that their head is in your lap. The man sitting next to you is a man-spreader part excellence. Or a hacking coffer. Or a nose-picker. 

The food - when they serve it - is terrible. (But you eat it anyway.)

The toilets? Well, there are no words...

Even if you're flying in the lap of first or business class luxury, where the seats are comfier and the food better, there are cancellations, reroutes, delays that don't discriminate by what class you're flying in. Red eyes that weren't supposed to be red eyes. Nights spent in an overheated, noisy airport hotel. Gate changes. Terminal changes. Three hours on the runway, eight hours at the gate.

I don't suffer from fear of flying, but to me it's a necessary evil, the means to an end.

I can't imagine wanting to be on planes all the time, and I'm just as happy that my career didn't require insane amounts of business travel. (Plenty. Just not insane.)

But Steven Rothstein was someone who traveled a lot and liked it just fine. So back in the 1980's, when American Airlines was on shaky financial footing and came up with a quick-cash scheme to sell lifetime passes, Rothstein got out his checkbook and bought a lifetime, first-class ticket for $250K. He then went and sprung for a lifetime companion ticket.

Over the following decades, Rothstein made the most of his expensive purchase, clocking up a staggering 30 million miles and costing the airline an estimated $21 million (c. A$33 million) in flight fares.

By 2008, American Airlines decided they’d had enough. They revoked Rothstein’s precious pass mid-trip, breaking the news at the gate just as he was about to board yet another flight. (Source: DMARGE)

Rothstein, an investment banker, was doing his frequent flying back in the day - the golden (hah!) age of business travel - when people thought nothing of jumping on a flight to somewhere for an hour long business meeting. (Been there/done that, including a day trip to London. And I wasn't all that much of a business traveler.) Here's how Rothstein racked up his miles:

During the period when he held the pass, Rothstein would often visit the same destination multiple times. He was even known to take a return flight between his Chicago base and Ontario so that he could pick up a sandwich in his favorite restaurant. (Source: AeroTime)

Flying from Chicago to Ontario to pick up a sandwich? I have been known to bring back take-out from Shun Lee in NYC so that my husband could have our favorite dun-dun noodles and spicy cucumbers. But the take-out was incidental to the trip. I never got on a flight just be pick up dun-dun noodles. Let alone a sandwich. Sheesh. No wonder American began to feel that Rothstein was taking advantage of the system.

All told:

Over the course of 21 years, Rothstein took – 1,000 flights to New York City

500 flights to San Francisco
500 flights to Los Angeles
500 flights to London
120 flights to Tokyo
80 flights to Paris
80 flights to Sydney
50 flights to Hong Kong
and roughly 7,000 flights to destinations across the rest of the world.

Yikes, and I by that I mean YIKES! 

But the sandwich trip wasn't what caused American to crack down on Rothstein, and - once Rothstein sued the airline - to sue him back.

American claimed that Rothstein had abused the system, sometimes booking companion tickets for no reason other than to have an empty seat next to him where he could rest his carry on bag. And sometimes booking no-show tickets just for the hell of it. 

His daughter has said that sometimes Rothstein did book flights he had no intention of taking because he was depressed after the death of his son. Over the years, Rothstein had made friends via phone with the AA booking agents he had access to as part of his lifetime ticket deal. He would call them in the middle of the night, the daughter said, because he was sad and lonely. In the course of talking with the agents he'd befriended, he often made reservations for flights he never intended to take.

Rothstein maintained that he never violated the program rules.

Anyway, there were suits/countersuits which settled out of court.

Steven Rothstein wasn't the only one to purchase a lifetime ticket on American. When the program was in operation, the airline sold 66 of them. (At the time, other airlines also offered special air pass schemes. E.g., pay a fixed fee for a fixed number of flights; unlimited flights but over a specific time period. But nothing comparable to American's offer.) And Rothstein wasn't the only one whose pass was revoked for overuse.

The wonderfully named Jacques E. Vroom, Jr. also got his pass lifted in 2008 and supposedly after all this time, is still involved in suit/countersuit. Again, Vroom's claim was/is that he wasn't violating any of the original rules which, if they existed anywhere other than in a couple of heads at American, were unwritten in the original contract. Neglecting to include such fine print in that contract turned out to be costly.

Basic mathematics shows that these two customers alone cost American Airlines more than it ever made by selling the AAirpasses to begin with. Fortunately for Rothstein and Vroom, but unfortunately for the airline, it took the carrier years to figure out that these two customers alone were costing it millions of dollars annually. 

Anyway, American canceled their unlimited first class travel program in 1994 - well before they tried cracking down on Rothstein and Vroom, but apparently after they figured out the program was a way too costly one.

American did try to briefly revive the program in 2004, offering it in the Neiman-Marcus insane-luxury Christmas catalog. At $3M, there were no takers. 

Personally, I think that American should have let Rothstein and Vroom keep flying. Sure, maybe come up with new, more explicit rules. But let them keep flying. By now, they would likely be aging out of any desire to hop on a plane to pick up a sandwich.

I just can't imagine who'd want to have access to unlimited to flights. There aren't enough Biscoff cookies - American Airlines snack-of-choice for steerage - in the world that would get me on a flight if I didn't have to be on.

What a terrific hobby!

My family didn't do a lot of traveling when I was a growing up.

Summer vacation meant a) going to Chicago, or b) renting a cottage (owned by Mae and Nemo, friends of my parents) on the Cape, or c) day trips.

The only one of these options that required overnight accommodation was a) going to Chicago if the mode of transportation was driving vs. the train. 

I remember two driving trips.

My main memory of the one when I was four was starting out at dawn, with my sister and I stretched out on the back seat, covered with a pink blanket to catch vomit if either of us got carsick. I don't recall whether either of us got carsick, but it was certainly a possibility. I remember we stopped for our lunch break, eating in a little park near Syracuse, where we got to play on the swings, which were sit-in swings, rather than the sit-on swings I was used to. So exotic! I also liked the name "Syracuse," which also stuck with me. 

I have no memory of where we stayed, but I'm guessing some little road side motel, maybe with cabins.

This would have been in 1954, before the interstate highway system was built. My father - the one and only driver, as my mother didn't get her license until I was in high school - would have taken Route 9 and equivalents all the way, and the trip may well have involved two overnights in some roadside "motor lodge."

In 1963, "we"  - where "we" was my father, and the Big Three (me, my sister Kath, and my brother Tom) -  drove to Chicago, while my mother flew with the Little Two (Rick and Trish). We stayed at a Holiday Inn in one diretion, and a Howard Johnson in the other. One of the stops was in Erie, Pennsylvnia, the other in Ashtabula, Ohio. I don't recall which was which.

I found the experience ultra exciting. Eating in a restaurant! Cheese Danish! Motel with pool! Those little soaps in the bathroom! It was just beyond. 

I've done a ton of travel since back in the day, but, alas, it rarely involved "the motor lodges and small mom-and-pop hotels that once dotted roadside America." Instead, it was almost all camping and hosteling (young folk travel) and hotels or VRBO-types in big cities (grown up business and pleasure travel). When my friend Joyce and I drove cross country, we stayed at a couple of "motor lodges" when we just felt we needed to have a roof over our heads, rather than a tent fly. This seldom happened, but over the course of a couple of months it did occur once or twice. 

My husband and I used to spend a long weekend in Perkin's Cove (Ogunquit), Maine every year, and stayed at the Riverside Motel, which was kind of nondescript, but location, location, location...It was right on an active lobster fishing cove, and the cove was small but had quite a few very good restaurants. One thing I do remember is that the Riverside served a continental breakfast, with OJ provided in tiny white ruffled cups not much larger than a thimble. The place is still in business, but it's now swanked up and reworked as Auberge on the Cove. (Now on my bucket list, btw.)

But E. Hussa did stay in plenty of those roadside America spots "during bucolic childhood summers spent in New England" a few decades ago. 

She described one motel in particular, the American Motor Lodge in Sturbridge, as her childhood happy place. Her family visited OId Sturbridge Village and stayed at the 55-room inn on Route 20 (touted as just 1,000 yards from the Massachusetts Turnpike!). They swam in the indoor heated pool and enjoyed meals in the restaurant.

“One day, we were driving through Sturbridge, maybe 15 years ago, and I realized, ‘Oh my God, the American Motor Lodge is abandoned.’ This place that was the source of so many great memories was gone. It had an impact on me,” Hussa said. “That’s when I really started seeing it. There are so many abandoned old motels. I realized this is something that I could actually research and document in some way.” (Source: Boston Globe)

And so E. Hussa went about that research and documenting, which turned into her website, Dead Motels USA, which she started in 2018. And which is just a treasure trove of wonder. Just awesome. What right-minded kid of the 1950's wouldn't have wanted to spend a night or two in the Teddy Bear Motel in Cherokee, NC. Nobody I ever knew, that's for sure. 

Or a motel with a pool shaped like a cowboy boot, a heart, a kitty cat? (Hard pass on the one with the clown-shaped pool.)

She has expanded her reach with an Instagram account which now has almost 200,000 followers. She also does dead and abandoned drive-in restaurants, and an occasional abandoned gas station. Bet she adds drive-in movie theaters at some point...

E. Hussa wants to retain her anonymity. 

She's not looking to make a profit from her work. It’s simply an all-consuming hobby. She also rarely grants interviews, preferring that her website and Instagram account tell the sad stories of the rise and decline of the roadside inn.

“It’s just more fun for me to separate my real life from this almost fantasy hobby,” she said. “And nobody ever has to know who I am.”

There's a coffee table book in there somewhere, but so far she just hasn't "felt moved or compelled to do it. So, maybe in the future."

And I wouldn't be moved or compelled to buy it. I'm happy just to comb through her website and come across gems like this Niagara Falls Hilton honeymoon suite from the 1970s. 

Wouldn't you wish you could honeymoon there? (Okay, with a different groom, wearing a different robe, but still...)

Anyway, what a terrific hobby!  Hey, E. Hussa, a grateful nation thanks you!

Dumb just keeps getting dumber

When I first heard about the raw-dogging on airplanes trend, my first thought, quite naturally, was ewwww. The very idea of joining the mile-high club was disgusting enough. Who wants to have sex in a cramped and none-too-clean airplane toilet, especially when everyone on the plane knows what you're up to? Did we really need the additional bit about rawdogging (i.e., going at it without using a condom)?

Turns out my definition of raw-dogging just wasn't up to date.

Turns out, it's become something of a Swiss Army knife term "used for anything being done wihtout protection or support."

And one of the most trendy of the raw-dogging activities is (mostly) young men spending time on long-haul flights "without any in-flight entertainment, films, books or music." 

“Just raw-dogged it, 15 hour flight to Melbourne," boasts Australian music producer Torren Foot on TikTok, blinking hard as if to stay awake.

"No music, no movies, just flight map."

Some also avoid eating or drinking. A few say they won’t get up at all, even to use the toilet. (Source: BBC)

Well, I've never been on a 15 hour flight. I think 8-9 is my max. And I've certainly done long haul flights without music or video. But I do need something to read. I do like the flight map - so Zen. And there's no way I'm on a flight that's much more than an hour or two without downing some water AND making a trip to the cramped, none-too-clean toilet.  

But sitting through a long flight, just staring ahead, has become some sort of finding-my-alpha-male-crucible for men looking for a tough challenge. 

One fellow who stepped up (sat down?) to meet the challenge was a Man City footballer named Earling Halland, who:

...recently joined the trend, posting that he had got through a seven-hour flight with “no phone, no sleep, no water, no food” and had found it "easy".

Is it just me, or does Earling Halland - who's in the picture there - look like an AI? Just saying. 

Anyway, it's become a thing, and things with respect to in-flight raw-dogging have quite naturally made  their way to TikToks of "mostly athletic-looking young men"

....staring at the in-flight map or the safety instructions card, vowing to use the “power of the mind” to get them through.

Seems like it may not be the healthiest thing in the world to do.  

“They’re idiots,” says Dr Gill Jenkins, a GP who also works as a medical escort in air ambulance work. “A digital detox might do you some good, but all the rest of it is against medical advice," she says.

"The whole thing about the risk of long-haul flying is that you’re at risk of dehydration.

"If you’re not moving you’re at risk of deep vein thrombosis, which is compounded by dehydration. Not going to the toilet, that’s a bit stupid. If you need the loo, you need the loo."

Others take a kinder, gentler view, opining that it's good to take a break from always on, to take the opportunity to just sit there and think. Or stare at the flight map. 

Business psychologist Danielle Haig believes the raw-dogging trend provides:

"...an opportunity to recharge mentally, gain new perspectives,” she says.

She thinks the trend signifies “a collective yearning for balance as people seek to reclaim their mental space and foster a deeper connection with their inner selves”.

And she reckons that raw-dogging allows young men, in particular, the chance to showcase their ability to handle solitude and discomfort with stoicism.

One thing to do without videos, music, or a good (or even a bad) book for 10-15 hours, but you have to be nuts to put your life at risk by not staying hydrated and setting yourself up for deep vein thrombosis. 

That's just dumb. 

But, alas, dumb just seems to keep getting dumber all the time. 

Have I got an idea for these passengers.

It happened earlier this summer.

While still on the tarmac in San Francisco, a laptop stowed in an overhead bin started smoking.

"Everybody off the aircraft, let's go," an American Airlines employee can be heard saying over the intercom for the Airbus A321.

"Just keep going. Just keep going. Just keep going," a woman can be heard saying as passengers in the back of the plane seem to have difficulty exiting.

...A woman appears to point to something in an overhead bin, tying up traffic when "Go, go, go" can be heard in the background.

"Leave everything behind," one flight attendant says.

At least one carry-on bag can be seen sitting on a plane's seat abandoned during the evacuation.

"Come this way, leave everything," another flight attendant echoed. (Source: Fox Business)

Glad that one passenger came to their senses and abandoned their carry-on bag, but the fact (recorded, naturally, on video) that there were multiple folks trying to retrieve their belongings rather than just get the f' off the plane is disturbing. 

I'm sure they weren't thinking clearly, and I do understand the impulse to grab your stuff. I understand it so well that of late I've taken to hanging a small cellphone pouch around my neck that holds my phone, ID, and credit card: all the stuff you'd want to have with you in case of an emergency evacuation - and the kind of stuff that most men will have in their pockets (and most women will carry in their pocketbooks). So I do get the impulse to try to not leave your important things behind. And even your unimportant things like a change of clothing, the latest People magazine, a couple of granola bars. Sure, that change of clothing includes a sweater you just bought and really, really, really, really like - and haven't gotten to wear yet. But here's the deal: they're just things. They're not people, actual human beings, which would be the folks in the rows behind you who may not make it out if you're futzing around trying to dislodge your wheelie bag from a chocked-to-the-gills bin while smoke is filling the cabin and flight attendants are hollering for passengers to go, go, go. (Fellow passengers were hollering as well.)

Fortunately, SFFD was quickly on the scene, and only three people experienced "minor injuries." (No word on whether it was smoke inhalation or being clunked on the head by their own or someone else's carry-on bag.)

I've got an idea on how to handle those passengers who decide that they really need to make sure their bags are evacuated safely, and who prioritize those bags over the safety of others:

Have the attendants announce that those who want to retrieve their bags should stay seated (squinching their legs up to allow others in their row to depart) while those passengers willing to leave theirs behind get to exit the plane first. Then and only then can they grab their bags. 

Sounds fair, and absolutely works for me! (I'll be the one blissfully exiting with my phone, ID, and credit card hanging around my neck in a little pouch.)

I can hear my mother now...

Well, the summer vacation season is winding down. Even around here, some of the school systems are back already. But, even though we'll have plenty of summery weather in September, Labor Day is just around the corner. And the curtain's coming down on the Summer of '24.

Anyway, I saw an article in The New York Times last week about families going into debt to bring their kids to Disney World.

Which, of course, put me in mind of a) the family vacations I grew up with; and b) one of my mother's pet peeves.

a) Our vacations were pretty simple.

Every other year, we went to Chicago to visit my mother's family. Some of my fondest childhood memories are of those trips. We always spent a few days at my grandmaother's very Chicago prairie-style, sweltering bungalow in the city, doing touristy things like swimming in Lake Michigan and going to the Museum of Science and Industry. Doing untouristy things like dropping in at my (late) grandfather's grocery store or stopping by the house around the corner which had a yard cluttered with all sorts of elf statues. (Elves playing cards on mushrooms, elves on swings in the trees. It was an absolute magical dreamscape.) Extended family members - all sorts of great aunts and second cousins - would drop by to see us, including some recent arrivals, DPs (displaced persons) from the old country who my grandmother had sponsored.

And then we went out to The Lake, my grandmother's summer house, which was on Sand Lake (better name would have been Muck Lake), in Lake Villa, about 50 miles north of Chicago. There we would meet up with my Aunt Mary's family, and our fabulous Dineen cousins, who were roughly our age, so the house was crammed with kids. My youngest aunt and uncle were only 6 and 10 years older than me, so they were just slightly bigger kids. During those visits, there could be as many as 20 people crammed in a house with one bathroom. Somehow we survived. (We bathed in the lake, and probably did a lot of peeing in there, too.)

Oh, what a paradise it seemed. Lazing in the lake in big old inner tubes, making hollyhock ladies (all you need is a hollyhock and a bobby pin), playing endless games of rummy on the big porch that ran the length of the house. We didn't have elves like Grandma's neighbors did, but my late grandfather had liked his lawn ornaments. So we got to enjoy the fake wishing well, and a miniature lighthouse with tiny colored glass windows that must have opened, because I remember looking in to see all sorts of dead bugs. The only downside to a trip to The Lake was gagging down the wax beans that came from Grandma's garden. (My trick: floating them in a mouthful of milk and sluicing them down without actually having to taste them.)

To get to Chicago, we would either drive or take the train, which, I guess, depended on how flush my parents were at the time.

In the off years, we sometimes went to the Cape for a week or two, where we rented the modest Bass River cottage of my parents friends Mae and Nemo.

If we didn't go to the Cape in the off years, we did day trips. One would be to Nantasket Beach or, in later years, Horseneck Beach. Nantasket was fabulous, as it had an amusement park (Paragon Park) and Lahage's Salt Water Taffy. But even back then, the beach was narrow, and at high tide the beach shrunk considerably. Horseneck lacked amusements and taffy, but the beach was very nice - long and wide - and the changing facilities were brand new.

Another day trip would be to someplace doable in a day. Bennington, VT. Old Sturbridge Village.

After a couple of day trips, all my father wanted to do was sit in the backyard reading on the chaise longue, taking a break on good days to go up to Sargent Pond, just up the road in Leicester, for a swim and an ice cream cone.

We never did anything that was very exciting, that's for sure. Our vacations were exceedingly modest, but they were what the family could afford. And they were all absolutely wonderful. My Chicago/Lake memories are cherished. So are the Cape and day trip memories.

Of course, back then, no one (at least in our social circle) did anything very exotic. My friends went for a week or two to the Cape, or Hampton Beach. If they went to a faraway place, it was to see family. My friend Kathy's family had an aunt and uncle in DC, and one summer they visited them. My friend Susan's older cousin Marcia and her husband moved to SF, and Susan and her sister got to fly out there for a visit. (I was so excited, you'd think I was going along in the baggage. Most of my friends had never been on an airplane.)

And, of course, there was no Disney World at the time.

There was a Disneyland, and I remember watching the opening (on our B&W TV) and hoping that someday I could go there. (I did, when I was 22, and I was very happy to ride in those teacups and drive a flivver on Mr. Toad's Wild Ride.) But no one went to Disneyland, unless they lived in California or something. No one I knew, anyway.

Which leads me to b) one of my mother's pet peeves.

There was not a lot of discussion/awareness of finances in our house. We lived comfortably; we had what we needed. There were people who lived in nicer houses. Sometimes we drove through their neighborhoods to ogle. My assumption was always that they probably weren't Catholics. But that was them. We were fine where we were. And we knew that there were plenty of people who had less than we did. Plenty of them were in our parish.

When I was in high school, a scholarship girl at the "fancy" Catholic girl school where the doctor-lawyer-funeral parlor daughters went, I became more aware of economic differences, but as a younger kid, I didn't see it at all. (Even in high school, my closest friend was a cop's daughter, also on scholarship.)

While there wasn't a ton of discussion of money in our house - other than that you didn't spend money frivolously - we were all well aware of my mother's pet peeve: no one should ever go into debt to finance a vacation.

Someone in her acquaintanship had done so, and she was forever bringing it up as the nth degree of foolishness. She never named names. Were they family members? Friends? Who was she talking about? I had my suspciion (friends, not family) and wish I'd asked her at some point, but never did.

How could you enjoy a vacation knowing you hadn't paid for it upfront?

You took on a  mortgage for your house. You might have a car loan. You might use your "charge plate" at the store for some reason, but you paid off the bill the second it arrived in the mail.

Borrow to go on a vacation?

What sort of imprudent ninny would do that?

Not my family, that's for sure.

But it's a different world now. People have credit cards, and charge everything. And there's Disney Land AND Disney World, and a divine-right expectation is that, in order to have a happy childhood, your kid will get to see one of them.

Thus, the families who went on trips they couldn't really afford and were happy to tell the NY Times that they were doing so.

Of course, you can't really blame them. Who doesn't want their little ones to meet Mickey and Elsa, etc. Sure, Disney is wildly expensive. But Disney is clean, pretty wholesome, and, let's face it, FUN.

But, but, but...

How can you enjoy a trip, knowing you'll be paying it off for months after. And, yes, I know, it's easier to pay off the trip than it is to save up ahead of time. There's always something to spend that spare $100 on, as much as you want to put it aside in the trip fund.

Still, it seems pretty crazy to go into $6K worth of debt to take a two-year old kid to Disney World because the mom "wanted his first visit to the park to be special." Of course, the kid's only two, so he won't remember a thing. But whatever.

This mom is not, of course, the only one going on a borrowed vacay.

In June, LendingTree, a financial firm, published the results of a survey of over 2,000 people that found that 45 percent of parents with children under 18 who have gone to Disney went into debt for the trip. (Source: NY Times)

Given how many millions of families trke each year to Disney World (with 17.1 million visitors in 2022, the largest amusement park in the world) or (second runner up with 16.8 visitors that year) Disneyland, that's a ton of families going into debt.

Not that I don't get the desire to take your kids to Disney. It really is magical. I would have eaten Disney up with a spoon when I was a kid. 

“Disney does carry a level of nostalgia for people,” said Rachel Cruze, who hosts a personal finance podcast and wrote a personal finance book with her father, Dave Ramsey, geared toward parents. “It’s a lot of people’s childhoods. When you can go to one singular place and have so many of those memories and those characters come to life, it does bring a level of joy.”

And I'm sure if I had had kids, I would have made the Orlando run with the kiddos. Still...

I keep hearing my mother. Even if there'd been Disneyworld when I was a kid. Even if there'd been credit cards. No way our family would have gone to Disneywherever. It would have cost too much, and my parents would sure as hell not have gone into debt to go there. 

Thank god we had Chicago. Thank god we had Paragon Park.