Proof that the Sarcasm is Genetic

I've always been interested in documenting mundane details, or getting snapshots of the way things are right in the moment. On family road trips, I used to get out a spiral notebook and record everything that was said or done until I got bored. I tended to write down the time, where we were, what everyone was doing, what we were listening to, etc. I came upon one such notebook when going through my new box, so here now are two (partial) records of our time in the car.

In this first part, I think we are headed to Hot Springs, Arkansas. This would put me at I think 15 years old, meaning Ginger's about 17 and Clay's probably 10. By the way, the song Ginger is listening to in the beginning is (I hope she won't mind me saying) her solo from "Pippin," which she did her senior year of high school. She had probably just gotten the tape and was still learning it at this point. ALSO: a note that Clay and I used to fight. A lot. So...don't be surprised here. Okay, enough explanations! Enjoy riding along with our family...

Aaaand: SCENE
-----------------------
We are listening to the barf band (Beatles).

“Time to take a little from the world! Time to take time! In just no time at all!” sings Ginger, snapping her fingers.

“Valerie, don’t you really like this song?” asks Clay.

I nod. We are listening to “Fish Fry.” Dad is driving. We are going 70 mph. It is 12:47.

“Are we going to Little Rock?” says Clay.

“No.” says Mom. She shows him on the map.

“Everyone should have brought a hat.” Mom says.

“I did.” I say.

“To keep ticks out of our hair.”

“I brought a hat.”

“Yes, we need hats.”

“I have one, see?”

“Oh, good. You have a hat, Valerie!”

Ginger is still singing. It is 12:56.

We are listening to “Judy in Disguise With Glasses.” We go over a bridge.

Ginger is still singing. Clay is reading a “Betty and Veronica” book. It is 1:00.

Ginger is clapping her hands and counting.

“21 counts!” she says triumphantly.

Dad is scratching his neck. Mom has Clay’s quilt on her. Ginger says something that sounds like a dying rat. She says, “Was I being very loud?”

“Sort of,” I say. I am now listening to her song. It’s nice.

Mom is messing with her earring. It is 1:07.

Ginger is pulling the head phone cord. I am choking.

She smiles. “Sorry.”

Clay’s leg is on top of his other one. His head is sideways and his back is bent over and to the side. He moves his back, but not his head. He groans. He starts playing with his gum. It falls out of his mouth on the seat.

A hand falls on my shoulder.

“Where’s my jacket?” asks Ginger.

“I don’t know,” says Clay.

“Mom, where’s Ginger’s jacket?” I say.

“I don’t know. Clay, where’s Ginger’s jacket?”

“I don’t know,” says Clay. Clay finds it and picks it up. “Here.” He says.

“Who wants it?” says Mom.

“I’m giving it to her!” says Clay.

“Who wants it?” says Mom.

“Ginger!” I say.

Clay throws it on her lap.

Clay asks me if I want to read a wrestling magazine article. I mumble something that I don’t even know what I said.

“Mom, did you throw away this guy?” says Clay. [I think he’s looking at toy magazine, referring to action figures]

“I think so,” says Mom. “I threw away all the ones that were broken.”

“That means you threw away the Joker!” says Clay.

“I don’t know,” says Mom. “I didn’t take roll.”

Ginger laughs.

Dad just put a tape in. I don’t think he liked the radio. There is a lady singing. I haven’t ever heard it. Now some people are singing about 5,250,6500 bizillion 423,000 minutes. Ginger is singing along.

Clay is talking to himself. He is looking at “Apocalips.” He has blue hair, silver skin, a red and black suit, and black hip boots.

Ginger just squeezed my arm. Then Clay started tickling me. Then Ginger stuck her toes up the back of Clay’s seat and he squealed. Then Dad said “Don’t start that.”

Now we are listening to Phantom of the Opera. It is 1:33. Ginger is singing along again.

Dad turned down the volume.

Ginger is pulling on my seatbelt and trying to choke me.

Now we are listening to “Think of Me.” I bet Ginger will start singing to it. Yep, there she goes.

--------------------

5/28/99
[Ginger was not in the car with us on this trip, for... whatever reason. I think Clay and I are still 15 and 10.]

We are on our way from Natural Bridge Caverns to Waco for Shane’s graduation. It is 2:27.

“Some nice houses over here,” says Dad pointing left.

Mom replies, “Nice one over here.”

Now she is looking at a map. It is 2:29.

“The part in the caves I liked most was the man carrying a baby. Every time she dropped the pacifier on the ground he’d pick it up and stick it in her mouth. About the 2nd time he did it I’d about croak,” says Mom.

Clay says, “Who? What? Who did that? What are you talking about?”

Mom fills him in.

“Ewww!”

[At this point, Dad has realized what I’m doing and decides to try and make himself look good.]

“Valerie is so wonderful and talented, isn’t she?” Dad says. “Gee Clay, I’m so proud of you.” He turns to Mom. “You sure look pretty today.”

Clay says to me, “Are you writing about our trip in the cave?”

I shake my head.

“Oh, you’re writing what we say!”

I nod.

“Oh wait, you’re not going to put that in, are you?”

“No,” I say.

He is trying to read over my shoulder.

“You’re unfair!” he says.

I smile.

“Mom, can I see Kleenex?” Clay says.

She holds up a tissue for him to see. “Do you want it?”

“Yes,” he says. “Can I have it?”

Mom hands it to him. He sticks it in his mouth. He shows the Kleenex to me. It is bright red. Nasty.

“When will we be there?” Clay asks.

“In time for dinner,” Dad answers.

Clay clunks his head on the back of his chair and covers his head with a pillow. I do not feel sorry for him. I hope he damaged his head.