May 5, 2000

When our son Eric graduated from high school in 1986, we took a family vacation to Idaho, to see our friends, Gerald and Barbara Walters.

Mel and Eric started out in the front seats. I was wedged between luggage, fly rods, hunting rifles, and other essentials, in the back seat of one of those itty bitty Cimarrons— until we hit Abilene.

"I’m going bonkers back here. You know how I get in close spaces. I can’t breathe," I gasped.

"Dump ’em snacks out an’ blow into ’at brown paper bag a spell," my husband replied.

Eric came to my rescue.

"I’ll trade places with you, Mom."

Afterwards, Mel turned to Eric and hooted, "I never could git yore Momma to go in one nem tunnels o’ love, she wuz so claustrophobic..."

"We both know it was because YOU were afraid of the dark," I countered.

We continued our journey through New Mexico, Colorado, Utah, to our destination, Challis, Idaho. It was beautiful country, although I confess I expected to see a lot more potatoes.

Eric didn’t much like the afternoon bear hunt the men had planned. They staked out a bull carcass, put Eric in a tree above it, and told him they’d be back before dark. Only thing is, it doesn’t get dark until 11 p.m. in Idaho in June. The poor kid was scared out of his wits. He kept nodding off, but was afraid to go to sleep for fear a bear would get him instead of the other way around. Once was enough, he said.

The next day, we hiked to Opal Lake, which was glacier-formed and looked like a picture on a postcard. We fished for trout and picnicked, which was lots of fun. However, when night fell, I was once again confined to a small space—a tiny pop-up trailer.

I elbowed my husband, who was happily stacking Zs.

"You’ve got to trade places with me. I can’t sleep crammed up against the wall of the trailer," I whispered.

We swapped places. A few minutes later, I said, "I think I’m going to have to go outside. I’m going crazy in here."

"Close yore eyes an’ pretend yore in the Astrodome!" he growled.

After a miserable night, we drove over to Bonanza bright and early, where several gold prospectors still had small working mines. Some of the signs posted weren’t too friendly.

I was relieved when Barbara said, "Let’s go over to Shoop and pan for gold. There’s a place open to the public there. It’s a lot of fun."

"Yes, let’s!" I agreed, steering Mel back to our car before he got shot by some irate prospector for trespassing.

"It’s a gravel road, so we’ll all need to get in the truck," Gerald explained.

The three guys got in the front of the truck and stuck Barbara and me in the back, inside of one of those small camper shells! All the while I was telling myself, "I can do this. It’s a small sacrifice for Eric and Mel to get to pan for gold for the first time, and perhaps only time, in their lives."