The Post that Started It All

While we’re here in Galveston I was reminiscing about our first trip to this island some five years ago.  I decided to take a stroll down memory lane.  Those of you who’ve been following for some time know that my adventures as a blogger began at the urging of my wife.  We had been married just under a year, our son was six weeks old, and we set out on what would be a 40 day odyssey from New Jersey to Texas then on to the Grand Canyon, Las Vegas, Denver, Mount Rushmore, the Twin Cities, Mackinac Island, Niagara Falls, Cooperstown, and Albany before returning home.  On that very first night of our very first family road trip I sat down at my laptop and penned a “note” on Facebook for our family and friends who might be interested in our travels.  I thought, given the occasion, I would repost that very first “post” here.  For the record, it wasn’t until two summers later that I moved over to WordPress and a few months after that when I started posting every day.  Here now, with names redacted to protect the innocent, I give you Day 1.




Actual picture from the day we set out on that trip. For the record, no, we did not actually travel with him like this.

Well, this might just be the thing to make you stop reading my Facebook… [My wife] suggested I keep a journal of our trip to Texas. I’ll try not to bore you with every slight detail and to include many pictures of [our son] so that you’ll want to continue to read.

So, for the first time in my life I was kicked off the New Jersey Turnpike. As we approached 7A there was an overhead VMS (variable message sign for those of you not familiar with highway shoptalk… Come to think of it, neither am I. In fact I probably just made that up. No matter) that said “Del Mem Br closed”. Now I don’t know about you but I think that’s a pretty massive statement to make without further explanation. After a half-hour of searching the best we could find from the radio, the internet ([Wife] brought her broadband card), and the electronically clipped voice of the Turnpike’s 800 roadway information number was that there was “police activity” on the bridge. Again, the bridge is a twin-span — meaning two (YES, TWO) suspension bridges with four lanes apiece capable of shifting traffic from one to the other if need be. What on earth was going on that the whole damn thing was closed.
To further complicate things everyone was being forced to use whatever alternate route they could by making us all exit the road at Exit 4 in Cherry Hill. For the record, we took the Betsy Ross, swung down 95 a bit and went to Gino’s so even though we couldn’t make the 5:30 mass at the John Neumann shrine like we had planned the evening wasn’t a total loss. Wouldn’t you know that as soon as we were leaving Gino’s the radio said that the “earlier activity on the bridge was long-sinced cleared”? WTMF!
Anyway, we arrived at our hotel in Manassas at a reasonable hour. [Our son] decided to cry (scream) as we passed through Baltimore (I’m not going to comment). It was sad. He likes something [my wife] calls the “high voice”. More on that later…


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