Spring is approaching which means so is the time to plan our summer activities and vacation. Yes, that’s right. I do not have our summer trips planned because I procrastinate, a total fly by the seat of my pants type B. I blame this personality trait on the Radon. I blame everything on the Radon.
It all began in the summer of 1982. The Steel Mills were booming and 13 weeks of vacation were the norm. My dad jumped up and down when he discovered that 13weeks were his for the taking. My brother and I were on summer break so our parents decided to pack up the 1970 Buick Skylark and embark on a cross-country road trip to…..Montana.
My dad was a man on a mission. He drove long and hard and much of the scenery was a blur. I can still recall my mom saying “Oh, kids look at tha…” but there was nothing to look at except squashed bug guts on the window. Whatever she had attempted to show us was a speeding haze left behind.
During Dad’s space travel, I became very thankful to Wall Drug and the dedication to highway advertising that this company maintains. The “Have you dug Wall Drug?” and other variations of roadside billboards were, if nothing else, predictable. Even with a Buick space shuttle cruising at the speed of light, one could effectively read these expected signs in advance.
We made it to Montana in a mere four days. Dad was proud. Mom was haggard and I’m surprised that none of us developed bladder infections from the lack of pee stops. Mom laid down the law. She made it known that on the way home we WERE going to SITE see by getting OUT of the car! We WERE going to take as long as we required to enjoy this unique trip even if it meant stopping at every statue available….even the ones of cows.
But there was a reason for Dad’s impatience. We had reservations at “the mine.” I’m sure it had another name but I only knew this place as the mine. It was a family operated business located in Bolder, Montana.
Out of towners, like us, stayed on-site in small apartment style homes for as long as one’s budget could manage. I recall that the place was critically small and seriously deficient in the privacy department. But most frustrating to my stuck up on a mountain in the middle of nowhere child mind was the TV. The man in the main home controlled the TV and we had to watch what he watched. He, like all males, loved to channel surf and we had to ride his satellite wave. There’s nothing that makes you want to hurl yourself off the mountain peak than getting interested in a movie only to have the channel changed mid-way through. Which is why, to this day, I will dismember anyone who attempts to channel surf in my home…twitch, twitch.
This little abode lacked in just about every department imaginable and I’m surprised that we managed to stay as long as we did without killing each other. The lack of…everything was overshadowed by hours upon hours of unlimited access to….The Mine.
My mom discovered The Mine in a newspaper article. The article claimed that after breathing in the mine’s air, individuals with incurable aliments became well. She was desperate. I was in horrible pain (thanks Arthritis) and nothing the medical community had to offer was helping. Looking at these pictures I quickly gathered, I do remember those awful days. The swelling, the stiffness, and the inability to feel anything except terrible pain. Desperate times call for desperate action and some special air! The medicinal property in the air was Radon. Radon was golden. Radon was good. Radon was safe.
Radon was deep underground so deep underground my family of four went, like sheep to the slaughter in a rickety shaft elevator to our mine destination. Here, in the dank darkness we spent 12 plus hours of Radon sucking fun… each. and. every. day. for. weeks! I just have to comment on the photo above because looking at it now
my mind is screaming RUN, I can’t believe we experienced this wonder of the world. Notice the sign about No smoking in the Mine (to the left partially cut off), and the 12 passenger shaft elevator limit but if one began to question or have any inner doubts then the conveniently placed quote above the elevator reading “Happiness is to be pain-free” erased all fears. Radon was the proposed ticket to pain-free happiness.
Out of extreme boredom I took up cards. I became quite the lil’hustler and could beat anyone (but the Chinese tourists were the most fun) at poker and Rummy 500.
Thankfully cards were not the highlight of the trip. We left the mine behind and toured the beautiful west during the eight days it took us to get back home. It was a trip to remember and one I hope to do with my family minus the radon exposure, of course. Out of all the trips I’ve experienced as a kid, this one was by far the best and the most memorable….
….Along with Mt. Rushmore, The Battle of Little Big Horn, The bad lands, Trail rides on wild, crazy horses, Grand Canyon (Which they let me SLEEP through but I heard a lot about!!!), and statues of cheese, I think the public health alert released within the last 15yrs stating that Radon is dangerous to your health and should be avoided along with the recommendation for home Radon testing and subsequent removal somehow added to the memories.
We went underground in Big Sky country to suck Radon. That ain’t right.