He was up at 6:00 and by 6:15 he was ready to go. Such was my father on the first day of our annual vacation to the Wildwood Crest during his company’s “two-week shutdown” in early days of my youth. My father got up early for work anyway throughout the year. This was kind of a late start for him. He understood though, that I was a child in the midst of a whole summer off from school and that my mother would need a little more time to get ready. I’ve always been more like my mother in this regard. His aim was always to leave by 8:30 or 9:00 at the latest. His little bag would be quickly packed: toothbrush, comb, bathing suit, a pair of pants, shorts, two shirts, three pairs of socks and undergarments. The fishing equipment was already in the car. He finished his first cup of coffee and then would start on his second. Then, he would wait and wait and wait some more. The sun was already up and temperatures were rising quickly. My mother would pull me out of bed shortly after seven. That wasn’t much of a problem since the thoughts of beach and boardwalk kept me up most of the night anyway. My mother then continued her previously started packing and double checking everything that she had already packed…and it seems that my mother did, in fact, pack everything. If it would have snowed at the shore that summer, we would have been ready. Maybe it was the coffee that affected my father. I guess he should have switched to Sanka. By 10:30, he was beside himself muttering and cussing under his breath. Why do you have to pack so much stuff? We’re not going for the whole year! That actually would have been okay with me. Then he turned his attention on me. I had a whole bag just with my select toys that I couldn’t leave home without. Really? You’re going to be by the pool or at the beach all day! You don’t need all this stuff! Stop crying! In between expressing his anger as to why my mother could not have packed things up earlier in the week and again asking why all this was needed, he employed my help in carrying things out to the car where he would strategically load up the trunk and the roof top luggage rack of our four-door sedan. We would drive to the shore in a vehicle that looked like it could have belonged to the Beverly Hillbillies. Just before noon, after bidding a fond adieu to our next-door neighbors and checking three times to make absolutely certain that the door was locked, the Minnow set sail. Of course, first we had to stop by and pick-up my aunt and cousin who would be joining us on our three-hour cruise, so it would be yet another hour and a half before we truly set sail. I could actually hear my father grinding his teeth. Dad, you really need to switch to decaf. When it comes to bags and baggage, I’ve always been one to over pack – just like my mother. Yes, it is good to be prepared and there were times when we needed a light jacket, but a snow brush would be a bit much in July. I suppose most of us are like this in terms of our Faith. We so often focus on all those things that we supposedly need, instead of realizing all that we don’t. My father knew that in the desolate outback of the Wildwoods, one could find not only beaches and boardwalks, but washing machines, supermarkets, and even toy stores. All of us need to pack less especially in our baggage fee world of today. In terms of our Faith, there have always been “baggage fees.” Save money, time, and effort! Get rid of the excess! Get rid of the things not needed! Get rid of all the unnecessary baggage in your life! Jesus is Captain of the boat and it’s not a three-hour tour, but an eternal one that brings us to the shores of Heaven. As great an effort and unnerving as it can be to pack, perhaps it’s the “unpacking” that’s even more difficult and yet more necessary. Besides, it’s all quickly forgotten when one arrives at the shore late on a warm summer day and witnesses a beautiful sunset over the bay with wife and son by your side.
Peace!
Fr. Wilson