As we barrel towards Labor Day (waaah!), I’ve been thinking about some of my favorite summer vacations from childhood. My family was fortunate to have traveled to many interesting locales around the world. (I’ve already told you about a few of them.) While I may not have always been the best or most adventurous traveler, in their own way, each experience has shaped who I am.
Of all the cities I’ve visited and sights I’ve seen, one of the places I have the fondest memories of was probably the simplest one—a sleepy beach town in Long Island called Montauk. We visited Montauk more than anywhere else in my childhood. Since then, times have changed a lot, and Montauk is now quite hip and trendy. But back in the late 70s and early 80s, we had to make the best of dumpy hotel/motel rooms, rainy days, and sometimes too much “together time” on our one-week getaways.
Which brings me to today’s life lesson: with the right mindset it’s possible to find joy in just about any situation. While happiness generally refers to having pleasurable emotions that can go up and down over time, joy is an intense momentary experience of positive emotion. Joy can be found even when conditions aren’t ideal. And like many of the best things in life, joy is the most impactful when shared with others.
Here’s my story…
Break the mold… and mildew
Since my father was a dentist and my mother was a teacher, summers were our “big family vacation” time. My dad was (and is) an avid fisherman, so our trips frequently incorporated a fishing component. Located on the very tip of Eastern Long Island, Montauk was one of his favorite destinations. Montauk clocked in at about a four-hour drive from our house, so it was a long ride for kids—particularly in an era before movies in cars and electronic devices.
To avoid traffic, we always got an early start before our trip to Montauk. This meant at least one member of our family would blow-up over something inconsequential before we got in the car (usually my father; sorry, Dad). This was the first phase of trip excitement. Our trip excitement would gradually dip until hour three and a half. That’s when we saw the iconic “Lobster Roll” sign in Amagansett. Seeing the Lobster Roll sign—which is actually the word “Lunch” written in huge letters—signaled that we were getting close to Montauk. It also meant we got to stop for some seafood shack sustenance. Still my favorite type of food.
After lunch, trip excitement kicked into high gear for the final leg of our journey. When we cruised into the parking lot of our beach hotel, we had the highest hopes that this would be the summer for luxury accommodations.
Now I use the word “hotel” loosely, as the scent of mildew and worn bedding often greeted us upon arrival. While many of the establishments we stayed in had fancy-sounding names, our lodgings were the complete opposite. (That’s where I first learned the concept of deceptive advertising.) We were lucky if the place had clean-ish towels and one-ply toilet paper.
Budget accommodations or not, we became more forgiving thanks to the lulling sound of the ocean surf just steps from our room. Thanks to our trip excitement, we rationalized that we didn’t need a fancy hotel. We’d be spending most of our time at the beach and barely any time in the room.
Our trip excitement-induced optimism ended the summer it rained for the entire seven days of our trip.
Ya can(’t) beat the weather
The timing of the hurricane that year couldn’t have been worse. But rather than cancel, my parents decided we’d make the best of whatever weather woes we’d face.
Let me tell you that a beach trip when it rains puts a real damper on things (pun intended). Our primary forms of entertainment were supposed to have been playing in the sand and frolicking in the ocean. Who wants to do that in the pouring rain?
Once we’d gone to all the PG movies and visited the neighboring towns, our happy-go-lucky attitudes had nearly run out. Trip excitement hit an all-time low. How do you find joy in a downpour?
Somehow, we did. My father was determined to go fishing, and rain be damned, he did. My sister and I played board games and read book after book (honestly, I wish I could do that today). When we got bored and inevitably started to turn on each other, our parents let us watch hours of horrendous shows on the staticky hotel TV. Even if it wasn’t a week of fun in the sun, we found ways to enjoy our time away.
The real silver lining from that rainy week came the following summer when my parents decided to rent a modest house instead of paying for a crappy hotel/motel.
Jeep-ers creepers
The beach house (or more accurately, beach cottage) was a few blocks from the ocean. The first thing we noticed was the lack of a strong mildew scent. The other big “wow factor” was that my sister and I got our own beds. I could sleep in peace, safely shielded from my sister’s tossing, turning, and sometimes kicking. Third, the house had a kitchen. That meant that my mom could cook, and we weren’t stuck trying to find a restaurant that everyone would like. (Though, in retrospect, perhaps cooking on vacation wouldn’t be listed as a plus for my mother.) Our trip excitement had clocked in at a record high.
But wait, there’s more.
For me, the real highlight of this house was Hank, the owner’s, Jeep. When I learned that we were allowed to use Hank’s Jeep, I was ecstatic. We always had sensible cars, most often made by Oldsmobile. There was no coolness factor to a Delta 88 or a Cutlas Supreme. But a Jeep, now that was on another level.
I thanked my lucky stars that my father knew how to drive a stick shift. When we took the Jeep out for the first time and my dad smoothly shifted into first gear, my estimation of my father shot through the roof (in this case, a soft top).
I felt like a celebrity as we drove around. Cruising through town in that Jeep was pure joy.
Thanks to our entire family’s trip excitement, my parents decided to rent the same house again for next summer’s vacation. I’m sure they hoped we could recreate the joy we experienced that summer.
As a lifelong creature of habit, I know I was eager to repeat it.
Stick to your (prime) ribs
Since we’d been to Montauk so many times, we got to know the lay of the land pretty well when it came to food. After our Lobster Roll lunch, we always stopped at the IGA Supermarket to pick up essentials. Thanks to my mom’s trip excitement, my sister and I often convinced her to let us get some “junk food.” I distinctly recall one summer when my mom allowed us to buy Fritos and Frosted Flakes. I couldn’t eat them today (too much salt and sugar!), but that junk food sure was delicious that summer.
Among our other favorite food stops was visiting the local bakery. When my sister and I were old enough to memorize the route to town (this was pre-Google Maps and Waze), we were in charge of buying everyone breakfast. My sister and I always opted for the chocolate croissants. We usually finished our breakfasts by the time we got back to the house.
When it came to dinner, we had one very special summer ritual. On our last night of vacation, we went out to our one and only “fancy restaurant.” This was a place called Gurney’s which had white tablecloths and silverware that wasn’t bent or made of plastic.
For our grand finale dinner, I always ordered prime rib. The prime rib was served decidedly pink, deliciously salty, and oozing with natural juices (it was prime rib au jus after all). Add in a steaming baked potato with a generous dollop of butter—on a separate plate so the juices wouldn’t ruin the potato—and I was in food coma heaven.
While meat and potatoes aren’t quite my style today, back then, the thrill of our fancy meal helped keep our trip excitement feelings going strong. Even though we knew our time away was about to end.
Been there, done that, got the T-shirt
I could go on and on about my Montauk memories. I didn’t share how fun it was to jump in the ocean waves, visit the Montauk Lighthouse and climb to the top, or the careful selection process I’d undergo when it came time to pick my annual iron-on “Montauk” souvenir T-shirt. (Fun fact: I always took too long to select the design.) There’s plenty more, but it’s too hard to cram years of recollections into a readable blog.
Hopefully, you get the point.
Years later, having returned to Montauk with my children several times, it doesn’t feel or look quite the same. Even though many of the “old” places still exist, Montauk’s once-charming simplicity is crowded out by trendy stores and too-hip-for-me nightlife. Sadly, the trip excitement vibe I once had as a child is now gone.
I wish I could bottle what my trip excitement—aka joy—felt like. (If it were possible, I’d be rich, rich, rich!)
Instead, I guess we’ll all have to settle for trying to live in those moments of joy as best we can. Similarly, when times are tough, it’s working on cultivating joy independent of your circumstances that can make you stronger. And if you can share and celebrate that feeling of joy with others, even better.
Or perhaps, as I believed as a child, it’s best just to memorialize a positive experience with an iron-on T-shirt.
What experiences have sparked joy in your life? Please share your stories with me in the comments section.
