OUR HONEYMOON

Speaking of trips, I’m reminded of the first trip the genius and I took together: our honeymoon. Somewhere we had heard that Panama City Beach would be a good place to go and not too expensive, so we set out after the wedding for that spot as our eventual destination. People rarely made reservations in those days; heck, we never called long distance unless it was an emergency. So we would just take pot luck when we got there.

We got married on a Saturday night in June in 1960, so after the reception our goal was to make it out of town and then stop at the first motel we could. My father had recommended the James K. Polk in Columbia, about an hour south of Nashville, and since they had an opening, we stayed there. (The James K. Polk Motel is still advertised on the interstate, so I guess it’s up and running after all these years.) Of course we were both exhausted because of all the parties, etc. that had been held for weeks beforehand, so we slept fairly late the next day. Then we set out again on U. S. Route 31. (There were no interstates in those days.)

About three o’clock in the afternoon we stopped at Montgomery, AL. I have really laughed about that because by interstate, that’s about a 4 ½ drive from Nashville. But we stopped and checked into another Mom and Pop motel. I do remember that the genius introduced me to fried clams at Howard Johnson’s that night, a dish I have loved ever since. The next morning it was on to Panama City Beach.

I think of that city today and the way it was back then and marvel. First of all, there was a definite difference between Panama City and Panama City Beach. They were separated by what seems to me now about 10 miles. And we had to drive off of the highway to get to the beach part where the motels were. And there were only three!! The genius looked at the motels, then at the Gulf with its calm surf, and quickly decided this place would be no fun. (Ironically, the Florida Panhandle on the Gulf is the only place we have gone for the last 25 years. We rarely ever go to the Atlantic coast.) So we decided to drive across the state to Jacksonville. That night was spent in Mexico Beach in a motel that smelled of bug spray and the next day started out for the East Coast.

I remember that those roads in Florida were flat and straight and we drove 90-95 miles an hour on them in our eight-cylinder Plymouth Fury. And thought nothing of it!!! I can’t believe how foolish we were. But we reached Jacksonville that afternoon and secured a room in another mom and pop place right on the beach. For the remainder of the week we had a ball, playing in the waves and eating great seafood.

Then it was back to Nashville to pack up for Jim’s job for Chicago Bridge and Iron Company. We had to go to Birmingham to get his first assignment. I do remember having trouble finding a place to stay and finally ended up in an old hotel downtown. One motel we looked at consisted of a group of large teepees; a clever idea, but they didn’t look clean so we didn’t stay there.

The next day the genius returned from meeting the company executives with a grin on his face: our assignment for the next three months would be - - - Jacksonville, Florida!!