July is considered THE month for family vacations, reunions, and small get-togethers. There would be cousins to play with, aunts to grumble over and grandparents to pinch lineless cheeks. We were going to my grandmother’s house. It was July 2, two days before the Fourth of July family reunion, where the Jackson family would come from all over to visit and introduce new offspring and new marriages.
But first we had to get there. It was hot and it was humid. Why? Well, the poor overworked air conditioner broke down in Atlanta, over two hundred miles away from our destination of Birmingham, Alabama. My siblings and I were sitting squished in the back seat, my stepbrother with his arm across my shoulders and my stepsister pressed against my other side. We were currently bickering over what radio station to listen to when my stepmother reached up and made the decision for us. Absolute silence greeted us. That single action set the tone of the trip from hopeful, excited anticipation, to a hot, miserable and uncomfortable silence.
I never did like family vacations.
Dear Reader: This page may contain affiliate links which may earn a commission if you click through and make a purchase. Our independent journalism is not influenced by any advertiser or commercial initiative unless it is clearly marked as sponsored content. As travel products change, please be sure to reconfirm all details and stay up to date with current events to ensure a safe and successful trip.