Vacationing with King Ruckamuck

In Nevis, listening for the ocean in Conch shells.

FOR ABOUT A DECADE, every year around Easter my family packed up our rice cakes and organic boxed lentils and left the house in the wee hours of the morning for the Caribbean. We didn’t ever go to Disney World (much to my and T’s disappointment) or other family resorts. Instead we found ourselves on deserted beaches, tucked away in the corners of tiny islands. In hindsight I see these trips as complete paradise. I’ll readily admit, however, that T and I didn’t always appreciate the isolation at the time.

T looks pretty grumpy here in St. Lucia.

We fought. A lot. And I’m going to go ahead and point the finger at T, because he was a total instigator, complaining about everything and spending his days worrying about the well-being of his X-Men figures, who were stranded at home. On these trips we were forced to interact with each other in ways that we were never required to otherwise, without our friends or toys—our respective interests stripped away to mosquito netting, supermarket Raisin Bran (something our parents didn’t buy us at home), and body surfing.

I can’t exactly remember, but from the look of our photo albums, we must have surrendered at some point during these trips, accepting that we were stuck with each other. In some photos T and I are even holding hands, grinning.

Last week I went on a vacation to Nicaragua with a friend from Guilford College, which I graduated from in 2008. While it wasn’t the Caribbean, I did find myself with a familiar craving for Raisin Bran and for T’s company (especially while I rode some waves).

Walking the streets of Granada, I found a park and a church called Xalteva (which I assume comes from an indigenous language rather than Spanish). The park’s tiled plaque was chipped away, simply revealing the name ‘Teva,” and it reminded me of my goofy brother with a soft spot for X-Men and an ability to complain like no one else.

After showing him a photo of the plaque in our Massachusetts kitchen, he thought for a moment and replied, “I should probably go there and see if I’m entitled to any land because of my name.” He turned away, walking into the living room with biceps flexed, announcing to his imaginary disciples, “Xalteva has returned!”

No related posts.