He was no more than three years old when the family decided to travel five states away, a full two-day drive. No sooner had the family packed the car and crossed familiar railroad tracks which separated the east side from the west in their town that he queried, “Are we there yet?”
Traveling any distance with a youngster, one in bound to hear at least three remarks during the trip. “Where are we?” “How much longer will it be?” And, “I have to go to the bathroom.”
If the repetition of such comments from one’s own offspring fray the nerves, imagine the state of affairs aboard a bus loaded with seven to ten year olds traveling 300 miles in one day.
Not ten miles out of town, the questions began and never ended. The children could read the map. They proved it by fighting over the lone copy on board.
However, they soon settled down to adding a few cities along the route from Jesup to Macon. Will we go through Jacksonville?” asked one.
“Not even Jacksonville, Georgia,” replied the driver.
“We’re not far from Columbia, are we?” asked another.
“Which way to Douglas?”
“How about Dublin?”
“Is Jesup on this old map anyway.
“We’re in Valdosta, aren’t we?” No? Then it must be Vidalia.”
“Eastman! We’re in Eastman!” shouted one as she read the city limit sign. “My grandmother lives here. Can we go see her? Shucks!”
“My grandmother lives in Augusta. Do we go through there?”
“How about Atlanta” That’s where mine lives.”
“Don’t we have to stop for gas…please?”
As the 13-hour long journey meandered into the darkness; and homeward bound, approached Odum, the youngest of all, innocence sparkling in her eyes, asked, “What state are we in now?”
“The state of despair,” sighed one weary mother.
The child shook her head. “Never heard of it,” she said.
1979
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