Memories still sweet of that once-in-a-lifetime spring break

When I was a kid I watched as my best friend's family packed up to head to Florida every year at spring break.

She always brought me shells from Sanibel Island but I wanted to go and feel the sand between my toes. I wanted to slap on the baby oil with iodine and come back with a tan just as she did.

Let's face it -- I was jealous. I was envious. I was a kid and I wanted what everyone else had.

I knew that we could never afford to make a trip to Florida since my mom was a single mom struggling to make ends meet.

Then in my seventh year of life, my grandmother made the announcement that changed my life forever. We were going to Florida for spring break.

I was so excited, I started saving every penny I had. I would buy souvenirs for all of my friends. I would send back postcards that told of my adventures and all the fun that I was having.

I would swim in heated swimming pools and enjoy orange juice served in a wax orange. I would be one of them, one of the kids that got to go to Florida for spring break.

For the road trip of my life, my grandfather purchased a new Impala. It was time for new car but he made a big deal about our going to Florida in style. My grandfather, always economical, secured the most direct route from AAA and we packed the Chevy up to see the USA in our Chevrolet.

I saved $32.14, a lot of money for that time. Why do I remember this meager amount almost 50 years later? I kept the money in an envelope with a small slip of paper saying "Sammi's money $32.14." I'm sure it was a way to protect my financial trust from my sister.

The money is no longer but the slip of paper was saved over the years in an old jewelry box. Undoubtedly it was a testament to saving.

We all had a job to do on our way down south. My grandfather drove, my mother studied the map, I watched the road signs, my grandmother watched the gas gauge and my sister did her nails.

Most of the time my grandmother would start nagging my grandfather when the gas tank was half full. To oblige her, my grandfather would stop, always recording the mileage to see if the new Chevy was performing well.

In this day and age of Internet searches and travel channel previews, it's hard to imagine that a family would take a vacation without any advance reservations. We picked our motels according to the grandmothers' travel guide. If the place was clean and had good landscaping, it was probably a good motel.

If they care about the outside they care about the inside, she'd say.

We'd book two rooms and my grandmother would always end up in our room. She came in her nightgown and brought her purse, along with her bicarbonate of soda and her spoon. She kept the spoon and her purse under the pillow while she slept.

Restaurant selections also fell to my grandmother. She had her system that she used at every location. If the restaurant had a few trucks it was probably good. Too many trucks and it was a truck stop. If the windows were clean and not sheltered with blinds it was OK. If the drapes were closed and the blinds were down the restaurant had something to hide. Most likely their food.

When we finally reached our destination, we did all of the touristy things -- Cypress Gardens, glass bottom boats -- and we got new jackets since it was a cool 40 degrees and we had only packed summer clothes.

My grandmother talked the motel owner into letting us swim in his heated pool so that we could get a photograph. Any heat in the pool evaporated into the cold air but we got a picture of swimming in between shivers.

My grandmother wouldn't let me stop at any roadside stands to purchase souvenirs because she wanted me to save my money. I did manage to get a wax orange at Cypress Gardens and I was careful; put it under the front seat in the Impala. At last I had something to show my friends.

The return trip was uneventful.

My grandmother forced my grandfather to stop the car when she saw trees being tapped. She wanted to teach us about maple sugaring. My mother caught the moment on film when my grandmother took a big two finger lick of the pine sap, not maple syrup coming out of the tall trees in the pine forest.

When we got to Joliet, my grandmother insisted that we take another route so that we would avoid any prisoners who might break out as we drove by. Grandpa put his foot down, literally, and sped past the prison. My grandmother kept busy doing a crossword puzzle but I knew she was furious with my grandfather.

When we got home, mom and grandma took naps and my sister and I went to brag to our friends. My grandfather took on the task of cleaning out the Impala. He found a melted orange blob under the front seat and a handwritten note in the glove compartment. It read, "Help! my daughter, my grand daughters and I are being held by a prisoner who escaped from Joliet prison." My grandfather didn't even get a mention.

It was the only vacation we ever took but we thought it was the best and as they say, "Memories last a lifetime." Enjoy your spring break.