My family hails from Western Pennsylvania, and while I didn’t grow up there, we made every effort to travel there in my youth.
Both of my grandmothers lived there, luckily about twenty minutes apart, and some of my fondest memories were our trips out there. My brother and I would spend a week with my paternal grandmother in the summer, but we’d also take trips at Thanksgiving to see the extended fam.
I loved that time because not only did I see my cousins, but we had two Thanksgivings (maternal grandma’s house at noon, paternal grandma’s at 4:30), but Friday was the family Christmas, where all the kids got presents. And the icing on the cake: Saturday, my cousin and I got a party (though I am older, his birthday is a day before mine). I always reveled in that because no matter how well he did in the family Christmas, my brother got upset because I always came home with extra presents.
For those old enough to remember, all of those gifts, both going out and coming home, were stored in our car top carrier:
Naturally, our trips weren’t achieved by driving six hours straight (the distance from home to my maternal grandma’s house, where we stayed). There were often two stops, and starting when I was in sixth grade, one of them was always Sideling Hill.
There is nothing very remarkable about the stop. I think it was chosen because it was just about halfway to our destination, and it sat on a big hill (hence the name, natch). When we had our dog, Misty – who came at least twice that I recall – she had ample room to walk, do her business and use her nose.
I also remember that in seventh grade, my “girlfriend”, who was also from Western PA, came running up from the picnic table in the field to wave to me. (Of course, we kept it a secret from our folks. And we didn’t really date. It consisted of sneaking notes to each other and the occasional kiss after class).
From that point on, Sideling Hill was an annual stop for us. Although we stopped going at Thanksgiving because I had basketball, we started going every August – the first weekend, always – for our family reunion. And still, we made our pilgrimage to that rest stop.
It continued when I became a parent, and then married. At first, my young kids shared in my joy as we would stop. It didn’t hurt that they’d often get ice cream, either from me or my parents, who would drive separately and meet us. This afforded my folks extra time alone with their grandkids, who would have to share them with my grandmother upon our arrival.
My partner, Michelle, found it cute at first, but now just indulges me – as do my now-grown son and almost-grown daughter. Do I go overboard? Probably. But those trips were a wonderful part of my childhood, and that landmark let me know I was halfway to some fun times I’d long remember.
This last trip, over Labor Day weekend, was not one of our usual summer sojourns. My grandma’s health has taken a slight turn for the worse, and my son was heading out that way for a show with his band, Atlas at Hold. I felt it prudent to go visit her. Despite the change, she was in good spirits, happy to see us and talkative, so it ended up being a good trip.
As long as Sideling Hill is a rest stop on the PA Turnpike, I will stop here as, despite moving, it’s still halfway to my grandma. Will I be too excited, because it’s still full of happy memories for me? Yes. But I am glad to have a place like that, and I hope that everyone else gets to have a spot like that, too.