By PAT WICK

© Another Day in the Country

To leave Ramona to go on a vacation, in August, is a formidable task. This is the height of the growing and mowing season.

What I do is kiss it all goodbye when I step on the plane. All the tomatoes, potatoes, green beans, flowers and green, green lawns, houses, chickens and cats. I say “goodbye,” so that when I get home I’m not disappointed if it’s not there. Silly rationale, but that’s what I do so that I can release this place, this space in time, and go away.

We went away, unbeknownst to us, with almost 5,000 other people. Do you know what it is like to board a cruise ship with 3,500 other people? Coming from Ramona, with a population of 100 people, more or less it’s quite a shock. It’s like going on vacation with the whole town of Herington crammed into Ramona (that was the size of our boat) and most of them on the main street. “Excuse me, excuse me, pardon me. Didn’t mean to bump you!”

Making the adjustment

It took several days before we realized that this mass of people (3,500 passengers and 1,200 crew) was part of our adjustment to life on the high seas. No wonder we would grow tired of the noise on the Lido Deck and sit on our own little 4-by-8-foot deck outside our cabin. We were used to fewer people.

We went on this cruise to the Grand Caymans, Jamaica, Costa Rica, Mexico, and Panama, with a hundred people related or attached, in one way or another, to one family.

Once again, that’s like the whole town of Ramona with all its kids and people going with us on vacation — we ate with them every night in the exotic two-tiered restaurant, eating food that sometimes we couldn’t pronounce. It was lovely, delicious, and too much food, by far.

It probably sounds like heaven. I do remember Bible stories about sitting at an endless table where you wouldn’t be able to see from one end to the other, with every kind of food imaginable and you could eat all you want as long as you want. That’s exactly what it is like to go on a cruise.

You could have ice cream cones at midnight and pizza all night long — fresh, hot out of the oven. All too soon, we were tired of it. It was too much. In the restaurant our waiter, Ari, would say, “Patricia (he made it a point to memorize all of our names) you aren’t eating much tonight. Just salad? What about some melting chocolate cake?”

When we arrived back on Kansas soil yesterday, do you know what we did? We headed straight for Jirak’s on our way home from the airport and bought some corn so that we could have just corn and sliced tomatoes from the garden for supper. It was delicious and we are glad to be back from our adventure.

Being on vacation was delicious, too. I paid no attention to the day of the week. I read several good books, didn’t wash a dish, or cook a thing. My nails grew out, my skin became a golden tan without even trying, and I was entertained every single night.

I had a massage with exotic oils and hot stones and exfoliated all my hardworking, garden tilling, windblown Kansas skin from head to toe. I fed giant sea turtles and kissed a stingray. It’s what you are supposed to do when you go on vacation, something different.

Out my back door in Ramona, I can see acres of green or gold, according to the season. Out my back door on the cruise, I saw acres of blue. On any day that we were at sea, sailing toward our next exotic destination, that’s all I could see. Blue, blue-green, green, black, according to the mood of the weather and the time of day.

Brave ancestors

I remember Tony telling me how frightened he would get as a boy plowing through a field of wheat or brome that stood taller than his head. That’s how I felt, standing on my little deck perched on the side of this huge ship, looking at endless waves. I wondered about people who were brave enough to set out for unknown destinations.

Our ancestors bobbing along on this blue, blue-green, black, water, as far as your eye could see and all the while trusting that at the end of their journey they would be rewarded. They made it to the very Promised Land that I’ve just taken a vacation from.