Cheap Flights To Cochin - Smashed Fingers and All flat Tires, family Travels During the Depression,

West Virginia while sitting amid Grandmother's prized possessions stacked between us in the back seat from which neither of us could escape until one of my parents exited the car and tilted his or her seat forward, i viewed the countryside between Pittsburgh and Ritchie County, twice a year. The other half with Mother's sister, grandmother Stuart spent half of the year with us. Most of the trips were required. My father's reduced salary during the Depression did not deter my parents from traveling in our black Chevrolet coach.

We made several other journeys while I was growing up in order to satisfy Mother's romance with history and her yen to see new vistas, although West Virginia was our primary destination each time we motored out of Pittsburgh.

She sought out sun-dried sheets and jars of herbs or potpourris for the pleasant scents she considered vital to gentility, at the same time, and other worrisome conditions; mildew, her sensitive nose was alert to mold. Lysol-clean bathrooms and unstained mattresses were high on her list of requirements. Mother developed a regular ritual of inspection that enabled her to spot the perfect tourist home, cleanliness being the major criterion of her selections. But my parents could not afford overnight accommodations other than tourist houses run by widows or elderly couples, our car was willing to travel. Lack of money was our major restriction.

" and a tricky display of mirrors that separated a woman's head from her body, a troupe of midgets dressed in western regalia singing "I'm An Old Cowhand, i was most impressed by delicious orange sherbet sold at stands throughout the fair. We were drawn there by an Exposition designed to generate tourism and business to the city during the depths of the Depression. One trip took us to Cleveland where Mother and Father had spent their honeymoon.

Perhaps they pursued their daring trip in the hope of discovering new ideas for developing me into a model child. My parents began planning a journey to the distant country of Canada, oblivious to the fact that they were being monitored through a one-way window, when the children's caretakers created a unique playroom where their charges could romp merrily. Defoe broke the news of their birth to the world. They followed the Quints' progress from the day Dr, both former teachers interested in all aspects of child study. So did they amaze my parents, just as the Dionne Quintuplets fascinated the rest of the world.

In a heavy snowstorm, not far from North Bay, ontario, we reached the small village of Callender, several days later. But the weather turned cold on the second evening as we drove past the Nabisco Shredded Wheat factory in Niagara Falls, we set forth from Pittsburgh in August.

Most of my friends were only children like me. This was the philosophy held by the concerned public during the Depression when the typical family had one-and-a-half children. He muttered to Mother that people without the funds to support children should not have them, but when we were out of hearing range, i remember that Father begrudgingly handed one a quarter. Presumably contributions to the family expenses, his older children collected the coins everyone was charged. We were propelled toward Papa Dionne who sat at a table autographing pictures of his daughters, when we emerged from the hallway into a gift shop. They were undisturbed by the crowds herded through the structure because they could not see anyone through the magical window. We and other tourists were divided into small groups and guided into a hallway from which we could gaze into a playroom where the Quints played. Provided my parents with experiences they relived again and again through the photographs my father took with his Kodak brownie camera, venturesome for the era, that trip.

But one Mother exclaimed over in awe for its historical value and obscure family connection, a sorry sight, the charred remains of the "Niagara" protruded from the lake bed. Margaret Forster Stuart, pennsylvania to see the lake where Commodore Perry's flagship "Niagara" defeated the British during the War of 1812 by flying the "Don't Give Up the Ship" flag made by my mother's ancestor, we stopped near Erie, on the way back to Pittsburgh.

Mother regarded that trip as one of the nicest she ever took, despite the fact that it took several months for her to regain the use of the fingers on her right hand. Father had slammed the door on her hand quite by accident. Mother's screams shattered the afternoon calm, instantly. Father exhibited his gentlemanly manners by closing the door for her, believing that she was settled. I had already crawled into the back seat and Mother was arranging herself in front. We returned to the car, after a walk around Presque Isle.

Was born, mother of Abraham Lincoln, " the dip in the Blue Ridge mountains thought to be the site of the cabin where Nancy Hanks, unpaved road part of the way into West Virginia just so my parents could show me "The Saddle, we stopped at Monticello and Mount Vernon and took a winding, on the way. Virginia shortly after it was restored and opened to the public, was the visit to Williamsburg, by all accounts, her favorite journey.

Father donned the mechanic's overalls that he carried in a kit before meticulously re-patching both inner tubes and tires, as he always did for such emergencies. I remember four within that single stretch of road. It invited flat tires at every bend, paved with rugged rocks. The road from Winchester (where we saw the famous tree growing out of the house and the cannon ball embedded in the side of a house) to "The Saddle" was nothing if not poor.

In particular, giving us ample opportunity to examine the flora and fauna of the countryside and allowing me to learn about America's history and that of our family, progress was slow on the tires. Mother and I stood by the roadside studying the wildflowers and searching for small creatures scurrying through the tall grass, while father toiled.

They developed into the strong West Virginia clan devoted to one another and to their home state, along their way. And Ritchie Counties, lewis, harrison, and finally into the westernmost reaches of Virginia (destined to become West Virginia) through Monongalia, and Loudoun Counties into Maryland's Allegany and Garrett Counties, fairfax, prince William, heading from Virginia's Westmoreland, each generation moved westward by twenty or thirty miles. To his descendants as they advanced across the Commonwealth of Virginia, who arrived at Jamestown in 1620 to help construct a fort for the Virginia Company, the carpenter, i became acquainted with the Pritchards in their progression from Thomas, through my parents' conversations.

Was the one responsible for repairing tires in less than desirable conditions, after all, he. I often detected that Father was less enthusiastic than mother in following those treacherous roads. Their automobile trips were opportunities to retrace the trails their adventuresome ancestors had blazed, for my parents. Establishing their own El Dorados in western Pennsylvania, they moved readily into the wilderness, like the Pritchards. Came to America early in the 1700s to escape British oppression, scots transplanted to Northern Ireland, the Bells and Stuarts, on Mother's side.

Where else could one obtain a tasty chicken and dumpling dinner for fifteen cents? With prices that were unsurpassed for the value, as indeed they were for many years, they regarded the YMCA Cafeterias as outstanding adventures in fine dining, or in another state, wheeling, parkersburg, whether they were in Clarksburg. West Virginia cuisine was to them the hallmark of excellence, no matter where my parents traveled.

" Father "made a scene, for the first - and only - time in his life. Neither the dry fish nor the elevated price of the skimpy meal met his approval. He compared the YMCA fare of his memories with the solitary piece of haddock and single boiled potato carefully dished onto his plate by a solicitous waiter, when many years later Father dined at New York City's legendary Algonquin Hotel dining room. My parents never forgot the delicious meals served them in West Virginia YMCAs.

" Is the worst meal I've ever had, without a doubt, and this, west Virginia, including Bailey's Cafeteria in Huntington, "We've eaten in some of the finest restaurants in the east, he drew himself up and said, as he shoved his money at the waiter!

" Cafeteria one day to try to improve our menus. . . Uh. . . Perhaps our chef can visit Bailey's. "I'm very sorry that the Algonquin does not live up to your expectations, the waiter tried to refrain from expressing his amusement as he gravely replied.

" "He could learn a lot. " Father said, "That would be a good idea.

" Mother giggled appreciatively and agreed with Father that a famous chef's reputation is no guarantee that his food will meet your expectations, as we scurried out of the dining room famous for years as "a gathering place for smart and interesting people.