by Jeff Hill
Ed. Note:
This is an excerpt from Jeff Hill’s second book that was just released last month, Letters from Poppa: I’m on Your Side. This book is comprised of letters from one grandpa to his grandkids, but beyond that, they’re letters to anyone looking for wisdom on their journey with God. We share this today on the heels of the practical parenting advice we received at Christ’s Church last weekend from Helen Smallbone.
Dear Kids,
When I was a young boy, my family took a vacation for a few weeks every August. It was a convenient time in my dad’s work space, the garden could wait a few weeks, and it was just before school would start up in September. So early in August my dad, mom, sister, two older brothers, and I would jam ourselves into the family car with our trusty Apache tent camper in tow. My sister sat in the front seat between Dad and Mom, while I sat in the middle of the back seat between my two older and much larger brothers. If I really wanted to see anything, I’d occasionally stand on the hump. There were no seatbelts back then, and the hump was an elevated area in the middle of the floor that went from front to back under which the drivetrain resided. Over time I wore off the carpet from standing on the hump.
Besides the obvious safety issues that didn’t even occur to us at the time, air conditioning was not standard in a car in those years, so we didn’t have it! Air conditioning in a car was new and an expensive accessory my dad wasn’t willing to pay for. One friend we were camping with told his kids to roll up the window so other people would think they had air conditioning. We weren’t willing to do that! We just dealt with it, and it was OK. Most of the time.
Sometime in the middle 1960s, we were on our way out West: six people jammed in the car for hours on end . . . in August . . . going across Kansas . . . no A/C. It was about as fun as it sounds. Our windows were down, the hot dry wind beating against our faces. Tensions were running high inside the car. It was before the expressway system was fully complete so all you could see was a long, straight highway with telephone poles and wheat fields stretching to the horizon. I don’t remember what the three of us were fighting about in the back seat, but it all came to a screeching halt when Dad pulled off the side of the road and said, “Everybody get out of the car!”
We all glanced at Mom. She was as clueless as we were as to what was happening. Had we pushed Dad over the line? Was he leaving us in the middle of Kansas? He emphatically repeated, “I said, get out of the car!” So we did. He told Mom, “Freda, stay with the car. The rest of you, line up in the middle of the road.” This wasn’t looking good for any of us at that point. What had gotten into Dad? With not another car in sight in either direction and all of us deeply puzzled, including Mom, my siblings and I all started brainstorming what we could say to fix this. It was going to take the best apology any of us could muster.
Finally, Dad let us in on his plan. “See that next telephone pole down there? We’re going to run a race to see who can get there first. On your mark, get set, go!” We gave each other a slightly less confused look, then took off after Dad. So there in the middle of a hot Kansas highway surrounded by wheat fields, four kids and their dad raced like maniacs to the next telephone pole, running on all kinds of emotion and adrenaline. Meanwhile, Mom got one quiet moment in the car. I think Dad beat us there, and thankfully he didn’t keep on running! Boy, I wish there was a video of that event. In today’s world, we’d have gone viral. We raced back to the car, laughing, out of breath, and thankful Dad wouldn’t actually leave us in the middle of Kansas.
When we got back in the car, everything was different. We were still hot, probably even hotter, but our mood was lighter. Tensions were released. Laughter replaced our grumbling, at least for a little while. Later on that trip when we got bored and irritable on a long day in the car, we’d sometimes ask, “Dad, can we stop and run a race?” And we did!
Kids, as I write this letter, I’m reminded how much I miss my dad. He was the original problem solver in my life. He made our lives interesting and made fun happen—and it changed who we are, how we relate to each other, and how we live our lives. It turns out fun is no small thing.
In more recent years after dropping off one of our daughters at the airport to move to another continent, emotions were high. Nana and I were trying to hold ourselves together, and we needed a distraction. We decided to go see a movie—Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby.
It was one of the stupidest movies we’d ever seen, and we laughed like crazy. (If you watch it, don’t you dare tell your parents I recommended it!) Later on, we wondered if the movie was really all that funny or if we just needed to laugh. After rewatching the movie, we decided it was mostly the latter! But we needed—really needed—the laugh, so it was worth a few low-brow jokes.
Kids, some days you have to make fun happen. It doesn’t always beat a path to your door. And you need fun in life—it’s not an extra or luxury, especially in life’s hardest moments. Break the mood, play a game, tell a dad joke (my favorite)! When the heat is on and the tension is running even hotter, sometimes you need to get in the car and take a drive in the country. Other times you need to get out of the car and run a race.
Never be too serious to make fun happen.
Love,
Poppa
“Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize” (1 Corinthians 9:24, NIV).
Ed. Note:
I have really enjoyed reading Jeff’s book that is packed with funny stories, deep spiritual insights, and life lessons. To order your own copy, click here.
Jeff Hill is a retired registered pharmacist, and now enjoys writing, serving in various capacities, riding his e-bike, and being Poppa to his three grandchildren. He is married to his childhood sweetheart, Martha, has two daughters, and lives in Loveland, OH.