by Thomas Russell

Created on: July 03, 2008   Last Updated: October 31, 2008

When you're a kid, you kind of live in the moment, not realizing that the memories you have assembled in your brain will last a lifetime. My particular vacation memory is your typical camping out time that many of us kids enjoyed. Traveling down to the Monroe Reservoir in Indiana in 1973, I distinctly recall passing gas stations and seeing the price of 39 cents for a gallon of gas. At that time, we were embroiled in an oil crisis in the Mideast, so we figured paying that price was going shove us into bankruptcy.

All that trepidation diminished when we met our cousins at the park. Unlike today, all of our aunts, uncles and cousins would get together for any holiday that came around the pike. We simply enjoyed each other's company. This trip was no different. We fished with my grandfather (my least favorite thing to do), played baseball, swam in the lake, even attacked a beehive for good measure.

But the nights, oh were they special. I couldn't even begin to tell you in detail what we talked about, but when we packed into our small tent, nothing else existed in the world. We were the brave explorers seeking out new lands to conquer. We would sit there embellishing travel stories, making up scenarios to see if we could manufacture the tallest tale of the evening. Being the squirt that I was, I didn't stand a chance with my older cousins, so I sat there and listened, entranced with their courageous stories.

Since I was the youngest of five boys, I ended up being the one my mother lorded over. I've seen overprotective mothers before, but she took her role as the raving mother hen to a different level. It seemed wherever I would go, she gave specific instructions to anyone I was traveling with to keep an eye on me.

What happened one evening, however, placed her at the Queen Mother Hen Hall of Fame. Enjoying a deep slumber after long day of playing, all of us heard a harried fumbling of the zipper as my mother peeked her head in and shouted, "Where's Tom! Where's Tom!" Wiping my eyes from a comfortable sleep, I replied. "I'm right here, Mom. Sheesh, do you have to embarrass me all the time?"

Smiling sheepishly, after enduring several snickers from my fellow campers, she hastily exited. She said she had this dream that i wandered down to the lake and nobody was there to watch me as I waded into lake, swallowing me up until I drowned. Back then, we thought that was rubbish, but she came to be known as the mother who just wouldn't let go of her baby boy. I can laugh now and smile with fondness because she loved me so much.

The problem is, whenever our entire extended family gets together for a reunion, I get to endure the ribbing of at least one cousin. "Where's Tom! Where's Tom!" We still laugh, of course, because I think all of us realize that memory of innocence so long ago takes us back to a time when there were really no responsiblities to worry about-except for making sure I was always kept in tow.

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