OO-EE-AH-OH-WAH-WAH
And he
said,
My
presence shall go with thee,
And I will
give thee rest.
--
Exodus 33:14
We just got back
from a wonderful week in northern Minnesota, the Land of Sky Blue Waters. For
me, it's like crack. Gotta have it! Can't live without it! Gotta go there at
least once a year.
There's no bluer,
deeper water . . . no greener, fresher forests . . . no more abundant, tasty
blueberries . . . and no better sleeping anywhere, than under those black
velvet skies with 10 times the stars.
I swear, it's so
peaceful and quiet there at night, you can hear a mosquito break wind 40 miles
away.
View of another beautiful sunset, courtesy of our favorite
resort, www.nlro.com
Well . . . but
that's what vacation is supposed to be all about. Catching up on your sleep,
right? The good old Three R's: Refreshing, Renewing and Restoring your soul.
But those of us who have ever traveled with kids know that summer car trips you
have to take to GET to places where you can do that have their own Three R's:
Rasslin', Regurgitatin'
and just generally causin' a RUCKUS!
You know how noisy
kids can get on vacation. The thundering herd of Keds! The shouts and splashes
in the lake! The mysterious slapping and thunking and wailing coming from the
back seat during those interminable drives!
But this year, instead
of bringing a carload of kids with us, all we had available for our annual week
at the lake-side resort were our daughters Neely, 24, and Maddy, 9. So the
noise levels were light years better than in the past. I got the best sleep of
the year so far, and when we left, I felt refreshed and renewed.
On the 12-hour
return trip, we drove by a Des Moines hotel that was the scene of The Night of
the Living Zombie Hell - one of those classic sleepless nights of family
vacation lore. Surely you had an experience like this:
We had just three
daughters then, age 8 and under. They were so lively and full of fun that one
grandfather called them "The Twirlers" because they reminded him of a bunch of
manic baton twirlers running around at halftime of football games. The other
called them "The Honyocks," which is apparently an old slang term used down on
the farm for wild and crazy people who pick their teeth with barn splinters and
stuff like that.
Regardless of the
exact rhetoric used to describe them, let it be recorded that they were LOUD,
NOISY and BOISTEROUS. But, of course, we usually LIKED them that way.
One weekend, we
took them for the obligatory visit to the Des Moines amusement park,
Adventureland. It's one of the legal rights of childhood. As an extra treat, we
drove there the night before so that the girls would get to stay in a hotel. So
after a long day, a late dinner, and all the hubbub of packing a family of five
into the car for a trip, we got on our way.
Alllllll the way
there, we had to listen to their new robot toy:
OO-EE-AH-OH-WAH-WAH
Compared to
today's electronics, it was rudimentary. You stuck these colorful waxy cards
in, and you could do simple little math games and stuff. There was no volume
control; it was loud, and we were stuck with it. The "robot talk" as it was
waiting for a new card to go in was annoying beyond measure . . .
DAT-ZOOP-ANK-BLIP-BLOOP-ZIPPETY
. . . but at least
it kept them occupied and quiet for the 2½-hour drive . . .
EEK-OAK-KAZOOM-UNK-BLEEK-TOOT-DOO-DAH
Ahhhh! It was nearly
midnight when we finally got settled in our hotel. The five of us stretched out
in the two beds. Our disorganized mess of traveling gear was dropped on the
floor all around. Finally, it was still and quiet in the room. We dropped off
to restful sleep for a few blissful hours, when suddenly. . . .
OO-EE-AH-OH-WAH-WAH
That confounded
robot came on, all by itself! It jolted the tired ma 'n' pa out of bed in the
middle of the night! Who? What? When? Where? Why? How? Oh, nooooooo:
DAT-ZOOP-ANK-BLIP-BLOOP-ZIPPETY
As usual, the three
cherubs slept on, peacefully, oblivious to the riot of noise. Our bleary eyes
tried and failed to find the on/off switch, first in the dark, and then after snapping
on the room light, finally awakening the Twirler/Honyocks, whose sound effects
of surprise and alarm rivaled the robot's:
EEK-OAK-KAZOOM-UNK-BLEEK-TOOT-DOO-DAH
"Daddy!
Mommy! Turn it off!" As if we weren't trying! We put the card in. We took the
card out. We put the card in . . . and we shook it all about. It wouldn't shut
up and kept up the loud, annoying barrage:
OO-EE-AH-OH-WAH-WAH
By now
uttering syllables and epithets that strangely mimicked those of the toy, my
Beloved stomped over to the sliding-glass door as if to throw the poor robot
down to the ground from our eighth-floor perch. The Twirler/Honyocks screamed;
the robot kept up the assault:
DAT-ZOOP-ANK-BLIP-BLOOP-ZIPPETY
Desperate for a
kinder, gentler solution at their urging, he blearily searched through the 42
attachments in his Swiss army knife. But he couldn't find one that would fit
the minuscule Phillips screws enclosing the battery port. So he put the robot
on the ground and got ready to stomp on it, which provoked more Twirler/Honyock
screams as the robot continued to babble unperturbed:
EEK-OAK-KAZOOM-UNK-BLEEK-TOOT-DOO-DAH
So he did the only
thing a red-blooded American father would do: he strode into the bathroom, shut
the door, and turned on the bathtub faucet, full blast. The robot noise, at
first muffled, eventually ceased.
Ahhh! Sweet
silence! He must've piled towels on it and then took a nice, warm shower to
calm his nerves. We all drifted back to peaceful sleep.
Next morning,
though, we discovered his dastardly deed:
He had DROWNED the
sucker!!!!!
It's just one more
reason to try to live our lives in a solid Christian way, obey the Ten and a
Half Commandments (#10.5 is: "Thou shalt not buy thy children electronics if
there is no apparent on/off switch"), and get to heaven.
We'll do anything
to stay out of hell. After that night, we know what they've got on the Muzak
down there:
OO-EE-AH-OH-WAH-WAH-EEK-OAK-KAZOOM!!!
†
