Are we really not the Griswolds? Because I’m having a hard time believing we’re not. Sure, our driver’s licenses might say otherwise, but this adventure? It’s telling us a different story. If you’ve read We Are the Schmitts, Not the Griswolds, then you already know the kind of “fun” we manage to get ourselves into.
This time, we meticulously planned our 2024 summer trip—the “National Park Adventure.” The itinerary? A picturesque journey across America, into Canada, through the Canadian Rockies, back into the U.S., hitting Yosemite, the Redwoods, and beyond. The dream! We prepared. No more rentals—nope, this time we’re in a brand-new, state-of-the-art Mercedes Airstream. The best, the most reliable, because we’re not the Griswolds anymore. Or so we thought… until Minnesota.
What’s in Minnesota, you ask? Oh, just birds the size of mosquitoes that bite like mosquitoes but somehow worse. And the beginning of National Lampoon’s Vacation: Schmitt Edition. The Airstream’s Volta battery system? Completely shut down. No fridge, no shades, no water, no AC, no bathroom. Suddenly, our luxury RV turned into… an oversized van. We still managed to limp through Zion, Theodore Roosevelt, and the Grand Canyon, but things were quickly unraveling.
Then came the drive from Wyoming to Utah, where the heat was unbearable—until it wasn’t. Sweet relief, right? Wrong. Cue my phone alerting me to a tornado. Great timing, right? We’re out in the middle of nowhere, with nowhere to go. What do we do? Naturally, we break into “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” because we were basically living The Wizard of Oz, minus the farmhouse, Toto, and my sparkly shoes (which my husband threw out because he blamed them for my trip to urgent care—something about glitter being a health hazard).
Anyway, back to the tornado—yes, a real tornado, waving at us from the right. The good news? We saw it, together. The better news? We had diesel, and it was moving east while we bolted south. Crisis avoided.
Sure, we could have gone straight home in our now crippled Airstream, but why stop now? We’re so close to Tucson, where my husband’s sister lives. But before that? It’s Vegas, baby! Because after dodging a tornado, what’s one more adventure? To be continued…
Truth, Empathy and Kindness
Sometimes, people say the most hurtful things under the pretense of honesty. “I’m just telling the truth,” they claim. But when you take aim at someone—who might possess wealth, beauty, kindness, and even perfect teeth—but happens to be short, something entirely out of their control, you have to ask yourself: what’s the real purpose of your words? Are they meant to uplift or tear someone down?
And what exactly is “your truth”? Is it the kind of “truth” Søren Kierkegaard talks about in the subjectivity of truth, where it’s all based on personal experience, relative only to you? Funny, the one thing I remember from my freshman philosophy class back in college, possibly the only useful lesson I took away from my third-world education. (I’ll have to blog about that sometime.) Since then, I’ve earned two master’s degrees and am working on a doctorate in the US, so here’s some advanced wisdom: “A false tooth is still a true denture.”
The point is, don’t insist your version of truth on someone else. Sure, that person might be short compared to you, but to ants, she’s a towering giant, and guess what? The ants don’t even care. What’s the real purpose of your truth? To demoralize someone? To build them up? To make the world better or to make enemies?
If the issue you’re nitpicking is something the person can’t change—like their height or their past mistakes they’ve already atoned for—give them some grace. After all, with seven billion people on this planet, it would be exhausting to find faults in every single one. So, instead of tearing others down, find your empathetic self. Ask what it’s telling you. Chances are, it’s nudging you to be kind.
