Devonne Brown

I hate to say it, but our family vacations with Dad were bad. He was the stick in the mud, the wet blanket, the damper of all flames, the downer. He provided all the eggshells on which we all had to walk. 

Our Myrtle Beach vacation, the first time any of us saw the sea first hand including Mom and Dad first started out magical. He body-surfed, and his laughter resounded like bells I’d never heard before. His dog paddle skills were epic, but in the ocean, nobody noticed, the waves did all the swimming for him. They bobbed and weaved him back and forth of their own free will. Mom and Dad were lovers like they’d been when they were dating.

My sister and I, at thirteen and fourteen were ripe for the lifeguards and other teen boys. We were ecstatic. It was magical. Our little brother played in the sand with his Tonka trucks oblivious to everything around him, but the sandcastles he built and the waves that washed them away. He was out of our hair and the baby oil and iodine we used to catch our rays enhanced our tans was perfect. We wouldn’t touch sunscreen with a ten foot pole. We didn’t need it. We’d been working our tans all summer, it was July, hot and peak tanning season. We were perfection. 

Mom was white as a sheet so she took precautions to prevent blistering and succeeded in avoiding painful burns. Dad’s already dark skin didn’t burn, except for the tops of his feet, which were snow white from years of wearing shoes and socks. They not only burned, blisters the size of quarters arose from the joints of his ankles down to his toes. Who would have thunkit? The holiday took a dark and ugly turn that very evening. 

Man Colds are bad enough, the poor babies were about to die at any turn. Men need to be coddled and waited on hand and foot. When the tops of Dad’s feet got sunburned the whole family got punished. Ice packs had to be produced around the clock. Nobody left the darkend efficiency apartment. Not even delivered Krispie Kreme donuts assuaged the pain. Plans for seafood dinners were canceled. No trips to the boardwalk fairs were in order, if he could have gotten a wheelchair he would have. I felt most sorry for Mom. 

My sister and I escaped with my brother to the pool. 

Mom put her foot down on day two of his ordeal and went to the pool by herself with her book. After sunset the after the burn, my dad, covered his legs with zinc oxide and his black socks up to his knees. He dangled zinc and sock covered feet in the pool, and grimaced and griped. 

After a horrible, restless night he sent us to the convenience store for a flyswatter and more zinc oxide and knee sox. He sat on the porch and swatted flys. We left in an hour. 

Thank God.