Did you ever take any great road trips?

“Great” can have many meanings, among which are “memorable” or “threatening.” This trip below was not long, but I’m still talking about it 40 years later.

My extended family went down on Christmas Eve 1982 to see the newly unveiled Viet Nam Memorial — me, my brother Stephen, my parents, my grandmother Fertile Myrtle, and 3yo April. My bride and 11mo Erin reported some queasiness that day, and stayed home in Takoma Park.

While walking the Mall, I began to feel the malady as well, so remained on a park bench in hopes it would pass, but it got worse.

To return to my place, my father chose 14th Street as the most direct route. Any normal person would have taken 16th or any street that avoided the city’s notorious open-air drug market of those days. I think he may also have been signaling his disapproval of Takoma Park, perched right there at the end of North Capitol.

But we didn’t get far. I told my dad he’d probably better pull over, so I in the front outer passenger seat could get some cool air and be near a gutter when the rising tide of the malady crested. He went for the curb immediately, at 14th and U.

“No, Dad, not just here, go on a couple of blocks,” I asked. He did, and I opened the door at 14th and T to lean out, and the cool air did feel good! April and Grandma were amused by the overdressed women on the sidewalk, but Dad was not amused by our surroundings, and kept a death-grip on the wheel.

Presently some passing male entrepreneurs observed what appeared to be a suburban customer of theirs in some distress. They were quite solicitous, crouching down to counsel me. “Just hang in there, brother, you might have overdid it. It will pass.” One of them offered a palliative remedy, which I politely declined.

The crisis passed, and I left behind no trace of my passage. Delivered to our home, April and I took to our beds, and all of us passed a very restless Christmas eve.

In the morning I felt well enough to put some gifts under the tree. By and by, the others listlessly arose and joined me there.

Christmas morning, 1982.

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About THE BLOG

Thanks for making your way to the The Days of Wine and Roses, and Vasectomies, the personal blog of Elden Carnahan. My dad has been composing these stories as long as I can remember, either on paper or aloud around the dinner table. “You should put all your vignettes together into a book so we can sell it,” my mother would suggest from time to time.

For Christmas 2021, my sister gave Dad a Storyworth account–an online writing platform that sends you a weekly writing prompt in the form of a question. After a year or so of questions, the responses are all assembled into a hardback book. Dad took on the challenge with gusto, answering scores of questions, which often lent themselves to retellings of some of his favorite vignettes.

We’re using this blog to deliver the stories to a broader audience. Some of the posts are direct answers to Storyworth’s questions; others are stories that he wrote for other purposes. I’ll try to provide context and explanation where appropriate. Many of the images accompanying these stories were produced using DALL-E artificial intelligence, using prompts related to the stories.

Please feel free to engage with us by leaving comments, and enjoy!

-April (daughter of Elden)

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