The glistening linoleum hallways, smooth vanilla sheets that mysteriously arrange themselves when left alone, and smooth ambient lighting are all complementary, but the Fiji bottled water in the fridge is going to cost $7. From Cape Cod to San Francisco the only difference in hotels is the view and the fancy chocolate left on the pillow. I was not always a fan of the Best Western type hotels, but after a few stays at drive-through motels, where the only thing complimentary is the insomnia, one learns to appreciate the overwhelmingly artificial scent of Febreze. It is for this reason that I was relieved when I learned that the task of determining the appropriate lodging would go to Aunt Nancy, whose quality standards are greater than my dad’s, “Do they have a bed?”
The reason for the trip was a broad “visit family” according to my dad. I was in no way disappointed about visiting dad’s side of the family. The annual family visit to Florida to see them seems limited to me compared to the dozens of family visits to mom’s side of the family. It should be noted that my mom’s and dad’s relatives are opposites in almost all regards. My mom is the daughter of a liberal family in the Northeast while my dad, whose family lives in Pittsburgh and Kentucky, is the son of a conservative pastor. Meetings (in Florida) of both sides of the family were always full of animated “debates” over just about everything from healthcare to, “Is talking to friends on Facebook as rewarding as talking in real life?” Almost everyone understands that it is all in good fun, but there is always someone left with a sour expression by the end.
This time however, I had more than lengthy debates with my grandad about large banks and bailouts to look forward to. My dad unveiled to me that I would be meeting my great grandmother in my trip to Kentucky; having heard stories, but only meeting her when I was too young to remember served to build up my excitement even further. A few flight transfers and we arrived in Lexington, Kentucky. Driving to the hotel I noticed something not seen on city houses and apartments. Porches. In Boston, even when it is not snowing, freezing, or raining, nobody has time to sit on a porch, lay back, and relax.
At the hotel I was the first to finish unloading my jeans, tees, and dress clothes as my dad needed to assist my mom in unpacking the portable dressing room of all the clothes she could ever need. My parents decided to send me ahead to speak to my great grandmother. Walking down the hallways comparing the number they had written down for me to the doors took much longer than I would care to admit but eventually I made it. I had been given a card to get into her room so I let myself in. She was sitting in the cushioned chair by the bed. She supported a thin smile with her lean cheeks. I finally understood that my grandmother’s rambling personality must have come from talking to her because once engaged in a conversation with either, cancel any plans for the rest of the day.
The most memorable moment of the trip however, was the visit to my cousins. Getting to their house required us to pass through the countryside of Kentucky. Looking out the window of the rental car I could see rough wood fences separating expansive fields of rolled bales of hay and the occasional barn. After some time we turned into a narrow driveway and drove for almost an eighth of a mile before finally stopping at a medium sized house and barn in the center of a large field. When greeting the family, the oldest cousin, Andrew, asked us, “Have you guys ever tried deer?” Before I could recover for a response Andrew explained that, “We shot a deer earlier and my dad is preparing it for dinner.”
“Sure,” I replied awkwardly.
“By the way,” he continued, “would you like to see something cool.”
“Ya, why not.”
Sure enough Andrew brought me to the garage where parked was a WWII style transport vehicle. Of course, we went for a ride around the farm. Suddenly, he turned the vehicle to the nearby pond and put the vehicle into full speed. The speed or acceleration wasn’t enough to push me back in my seat, but it wasn’t slow either. Now going around 20 mph towards the water Andrew says, “Check this out!” He lets out a yell and plunges the machine straight into the pond. When I opened my eyes we were cruising across the pond to the other side. I looked over to see Andrew with one of the smuggest grins I have ever seen. The rest of the day took a similar route.

Dinner time I was presented with a plate with one slab of deer meat and some potato salad. While there is nothing quite like a southern potato salad compared to the sloppy mush found in train station shops, the same could not be said about the deer. The potato salad was the first to go (I love potato salad), but deer meat didn't go so easily. I picked at the meat little by little and made minuscule progress. Even the serrated knife I used to gauge at the hunk of meat struggled to get through. After a while I gave up and decided to instead listen in on the conversation between my cousins who had already finished their meals. We talked and caught up on lost time. Other relatives told stories, laughed at jokes, and planned visits. By the time the conversations began to rap up it was dark and I was nodding off to sleep. As soon as the rental started down the driveway I was fast asleep in the rear exhausted from an exciting end to a memorable week.