Diabolical H. Griswold

I'm a Griswold. There, I said it. It's taken three years and about $10,000 in psychiatric fees to get to this point (or just a recent viewing of National Lampoons Vacation with my wife). I've heard a few of the jokes before--the thousands of Christmas lights on the house being the most common--but after recently watching three of the Vacation movies (the original, European and Christmas, which for some mysterious reason was on TV in April), I realized how eerily similar my childhood was to growing up Griswold.

First, there's the father figures, Clark W. Griswold and my father. Except for the mustache and the fact that Clark dealt with his thinning hair much better than my father did, Clark and my father appear physically similar, especially in the original Vacation movie. In fact, my dad still looks like Clark circa Vacation: poor combover, extremely short shorts, ambiguously patterned short-sleeve button-up shirts, and early 80s baseball hats with an unusually high bridge. My mom and Ellen are both small, blonde women with infinite patience.

Then, there were the family trips we took. We drove to Oregon to visit the family nearly every summer; there were also road trips through Vegas, northern California and to Disneyland (luckily, we flew to Disneyworld, although we didn't actually get to go to Disneyworld because it wasn't educational. So we went to Epcot. Epcot sucks.). Our vehicle of choice for these early trips was a wood-paneled Jeep Cherokee, not too dissimilar from the station wagon. Instead of Europe, we did Mexico, which presented its own unique situations.

Finally, there are the Vacation circumstances and goings-on that nearly mirror some of my family trips. For example, in Vacation, Clark jumps the car off a ledge and is taken by the repair shop for all his money. For gas and other expenses, he is forced to dip into Audrey's babysitting money. Clark's credit cards wouldn't work because Ellen's had been stolen and they called in to cancel them. When driving from Oregon to northern California, my mom lost her purse and my dad cancelled all the cards, including his. Luckily, my sister had made about $200 selling fruit and lemonade at the beach, and we were able to find a place to stay. Instead of stealing money from a hotel at the Grand Canyon, I think we walked out on a meal or something (my dad was always into the dine and dash).

There are the family road trips to the middle of nowhere. The zany relatives showing up at random times. The flirting with sales women (and the harassing of waitresses, which might be unique to my dad). Again, the Christmas lights--though I did most of the legwork on that while Russ somehow lucked out and stayed inside. The bickering with my sister. The unique cultural experiences on our international trips ("When in Rome, my good man"). The trips to Vegas where my dad played Keno at breakfast. My sister getting in trouble for gambling underage, way underage, when she was 10. My dad and Clark eventually losing their minds in some sort of temporary insanity, when all they wanted to do was show their families a good time. The Griswolds faced temptation and renewed their vows. My parents renewed their vows, too, though I can't vouch for the other part.

In some ways, I think my dad exceeds the zaniness of Clark Griswold. He is always yelling for someone to come help, even when we are feet away--much like Clark's constant "Russ?!". However, he will yell for anyone, not just his son. On the way to Wallyworld, the family stays at a motel (the one where Clark jumps in a pool with Christie Brinkley). Russ and Aubrey got their own room, which would have been unprecedented in my family. On our family's trip to Disneyland, my sister did get her own room--except it was a rollaway bed in a walk-in closet!

To capture these moments and more, I've started a side blog. I know, ridiculous, I barely blog on this page as it is. But you'll see. You'll all see. Give me a few days and start checking Tales of the Ricker. I'll make it worth your while.