the secret? apple cider vinegar (shhh)

Our family vacation is over and I have a lot to say about our trip. That'll be the next post (perhaps while I'm in Jamaica?...). I'm sure I'll have some extra time on my hands while there anyway.

I've been going to North Myrtle Beach annually since 1974 either as a passenger or driver. It's all because my grandparents (who are now gone) retired and bought a house 2 blocks off the beach (with a stack of $25 savings bonds grandpa accumulated over the years). Needless to say, it's a special place and one we are fortunate to still have.

When I was a kid I would have trouble sleeping the night before we departed Pennsylvania for South Carolina (really, just like Christmas Eve). I would think about all the landmarks I was going to see and wonder if they would still be there when we pass this trip. It was always a long car ride and you knew you were getting close when the "South of The Border" signs started dominating both sides of I-95. Pedro was always on the signs enticing travelers to spend their money at the cheesy rest stop just over the line in South Carolina. Most of them had moving parts. One that sticks in my mind had sheep spinning around a moon and Pedro saying "Your sheep are all counted South of The Border!" We never stopped there though because we never made it that far on I-95 because about 20 miles before the line we would get off in Lumberton, NC and take a back way in. Lumberton was always a giddy time for me as a kid and it still is today, believe me (finally off I-95). Sadly though, most of the billboards are gone. I wish I could point them out to my kids today.

Another landmark to be seen was the Plantation Pancake House sign. This was THE landmark because it meant you've just traveled 600 miles and only have a quarter mile to go (come south on 17 and when you see the Plantation Pancake House sign, bang a left). For me, the excitement level I experience when I see this sign is much the same as it was all those years ago. Mostly for the same reasons but there are few different ones, too. Eric and I ate breakfast there this year. What did he order? Pancakes!

The last memory (although there are many more) I'm going to share with you right now doesn't involve landmarks. It involves food. Wait, we can't call it food. We'll have to call it the single greatest thing anyone could ever want to load, chew and swallow in the history of ALL THING EDIBLE. I'm talking about grandma's potato salad. You see, before we would arrive she would make a big bowl a few days beforehand. It was always in the fridge when we got there. Sometimes it would have a layer of sliced hard-boiled egg on top and sometimes not. But whatever it had in it or on it, the flavors rocked my world. After the obligatory hugs and hellos, I couldn't wait to open that refrigerator. That was all gone now, with the holder's of that amazing recipe (which was never written down) gone too. I thought it was anyway.

My sister Laura came up from Jacksonville to spend the week with us. It was nice to see her and have the cousins play and occupy each other. That would've been enough but she took her gifts of companionship a step further: she made THE potato salad. I don't know how she did. Was it divinely passed to her? Zapped down from the heavens? Or did she know it all along since she's a descendant of Linda and Lenora? Whatever the case, she made it and nailed it, without asking or announcing that she was doing so. I couldn't believe it when I saw and tasted the finished product.

Sue and my brother think I blow this reverence to Grandma's Potato Salad thing out of proportion. They just don't understand. When I eat that potato salad in that house things happen to me. Every bite I have enlightens me with visions I thought long forgotten. I see Grandpa sitting in his chair after dinner, watching the nightly news. I see him watching a sporting event on TV, standing at attention during the National Anthem. I see Grandma sitting at the table across from me, wondering aloud to someone else if I had enough to eat. I see Mom pleading with us to wipe our feet when we enter so we don't get sand in the carpet. Usually after my second helping I want to go steal quarters from the spare change pile dad keeps on the dresser in the guest room so I can run down to the arcade and look at chicks and play video games. Yes, the past floods in. All memories that weren't as special then as they are now.

Lars, Thank YOU. Thanks for making my trip extra special this year. I'm looking forward to 2011 when we can do it again.