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 In
January of this year my mother perused Explorations in Travel's
brochure of vacations for women over 40 and told me that she'd like
to go on the multi-generational windjammer weekend. I'm not a sailor
and I get seasick. I asked my sister if she'd like to go with our
mom instead; no, she gets seasick. How about my niece a junior in
college? Not a chance, she gets seasick. Apparently this affliction
is one we've inherited from our father's side of the family since
mom seemed not be concerned. I was about to discover what else I had
inherited from my mother.
Last autumn, while I was leading a
canoe trip in the Adirondacks of New York State, a ranger appeared
on shore. My mother had been admitted into the hospital for heart
surgery. I managed to get the one flight out that day and arrived at
the hospital in Boston with my paddle and life jacket in hand.
Despite the need for surgery, mom was in relatively good health at
75 and has recovered well. But who knew when, or if, wešd ever
have the opportunity to spend a weekend together with other mothers
and daughters enjoying the the last days of summer in the calm
waters of Maine's Casco Bay.
My initial apprehension of going on a
vacation with my mom was not only the fear of a queasy stomach. I've
led multi-generational trips before. Some mothers and daughters
arrive holding hands, comfortable and happy with each other's
company. On the other hand when we boarded the boat for our sailing
weekend one mother informed me that she and her daughter get along
great....for 3 hours. While there are mothers and daughters who are
best friends, there are others for whom the battle scars of teenage
rebellion are not so well healed. The relationship between my mother
and I fell somewhere in between.
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There's some sort of magic that happens
when a group of women get together. During our sailing weekend we
painted each others toenails, marveled at graceful porpoises and
big-eyed seals, played games, hoisted sails and exchanged addresses.
Family stories were told. One mother still catches grief for putting
toothpaste on her 3 year old daughteršs diaper rash by mistake in
the dark thirty years ago. My mother, the eldest of the group, gave
out gardening advice, made people laugh, and was content with every
aspect of our voyage. At night she and I took turns standing in our
small cabin while we dressed for bed, the flashlight strategically
placed where we both could find it for midnight visits to the Ohead.
I always knew that I got my olive skin
and broad shoulders from her but on this trip I discovered where my
ease with people and sense of humor came from. I was grateful that
we'd all been able to have the weekend together and was proud to
think that in many ways I was Ojust like my mother. I never did get
seasick and the mother and daughter team with the 3 hour limit
managed 2 nights together in their small sleeping berth, in fact, I
even heard them giggling at night.
(This article is contributed by Explorations
in Travel, Inc. - Editor. For more interesting travel articles,
please visit InfoHub Specialty
Travel Guide)
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