Summer 1977. Somewhere outside Winston-Salem, NC.
The car was hot, its white vinyl seats slick with sweat. My parents sang along to John Denver, Kenny Rogers, and Willie Nelson whenever we could catch a radio station. My Irish-twin sister, Kathleen Rachel, and I groaned. (Jayne, you missed it!)
At a traffic light, a group of long-haired, bearded men on motorcycles pulled up. Mom gasped. “Oh! Joe! I’m scared! It’s a motorcycle gang!”
Dad calmly encouraged her to roll down the window. The men had noticed a loose wheel on our camper—it looked like it could fall off. They were stopping to help.
Rule 1: People who seem scary can be kind and helpful.
Mom and Dad decided to ditch the camper and invest in a tent. Thanks to Rand McNally and Mom’s amazing map skills, we found a mall to buy supplies. For Kathy and me, the day dragged. At the mall’s radio station, the DJ asked if we wanted to go on air. Kathy said yes; I hesitated. Later, she returned furious. When asked where she was from, the DJ had called her “son.”
Rule 2: Sometimes, it pays to be shy—or maybe good luck and bad luck are impossible to distinguish.
By nightfall, we reached the campground. Setting up the 1970s-style tent was a full-on adventure: heavy canvas, rigid poles, and stakes that wouldn’t budge. We sweated under the plastic tarp covering the tent in 98-degree, 99%-humidity heat.
Then the giggles started. “Heeheehee…heeheehee…” Mom’s laughter was contagious. Soon we were all in tears, laughing until we collapsed into our sleeping bags.
Rule 3: If you don’t know whether to laugh or cry, laugh.
That camping trip was far from perfect. The day had been long, uncomfortable, and chaotic—but it’s the one I remember most. Our most challenging moments often become our most cherished memories.
So, if you ever find yourself wrestling with a broken camper, a frustrated child, and a complicated tent in the rain—laugh.