One of the most stressful parts of going on vacation is packing for that vacation, followed closely by unpacking from that vacation. You want to pack everything you need, but you also don’t want to schlep a lot, but you also are going for as many days as you can to somewhere that none of your stuff lives.
So you do everything you can to pack light. You say things like, “I don’t need bug spray. The whole year there’s bug spray in my house, and I don’t use it. Suddenly I’m going to be hiking for four days, that’s when I’m going to need bug spray?”
Basically, the whole point of vacation is to plan a place to go to get away from it all, and then bring it all with you.
This includes relatives. Some summers, my wife’s entire family gets together in a rental home, except for those who can get out of it. It’s one of those trips where the grandparents pay for the place, and everyone says, “That’s a great idea! We’ll save so much money!” And then everyone has to pay for travel, and feeding each other, and day trips, and every day trip is a never-ending negotiation and a mess of everyone laying out money for everyone else, and it costs everyone way more than it would cost if they just took their own vacation somewhere, but everyone has to thank Bubby and Zaidy every single time they pass them the entire vacation and then chip in for a grand thank-you gesture afterward.
It’s supposed to save everyone on packing, at least. Which is very nice on paper. Like you make up ahead of time that instead of everyone bringing their own coffee and sugar and cups, one family will bring coffee, one will bring sugar, and one will bring cups! What a great idea!
But let’s say you’re in charge of the coffee. So if it’s just your immediate family in a motel room, you would pack the smallest Ziploc bag you own with literally eight teaspoons of coffee grounds. You may also premix the sugar into the bag. Then you’ll transport this baggie inside one of the cups you’re going to use, which will be inside the other 3 cups. Whereas if you go with an extended family of thirty people or more, there’s no way you can do that. There’s no way you can explain to all those people individually on the first day as they’re unpacking all the stuff they had to pack while their kids dance on all the beds that this little Ziploc bag is coffee, and the other one is decaf, while they’re all explaining to everyone that the prescription bottle with no label is Tylenol and the film canister is Advil, and the square Tupperware is mayonnaise and the round one is marshmallow fluff.
And then one brother-in-law will pick up the unmarked baggie and say, “What’s the hashgacha?” and your sister-in-law will prefer crystals, and you didn’t ask beforehand how much coffee everyone drinks, and also your mother-in-law wants tea, and the cup person only brought like 4 cups because they thought everyone would reuse them but they didn’t have a chance on the first day to tell everyone to reuse them, and someone wrote names on the bottoms with a sharpie, but then stacked all the cups, and why on earth did six people bring raisin bran?
So you basically have to bring an entire coffee station, like you would at a simcha. With full jars -- all 300 spoons’ worth. Plus the jar itself, in order to make your brother-in-law happy who doesn’t trust your coffee hashgacha but will cheerfully eat the barbecue supper you’re preparing with zero labels on anything.
You also way overpack, because if it’s just your family, you can decide that you don’t need something for a couple of days, but if it’s everyone, who are you to decide? And every family has their own weird things that they absolutely need. Like you’ll make scrambled eggs, and someone will ask, “Is there mustard?” And honestly, it didn’t even occur to you to bring mustard. And he’s like, “You said you were in charge of scrambled eggs; how could you not bring mustard?” And he doesn’t mean it as a complaint, but it definitely sounds like one to someone who just slaved over a travel stove to scramble 300 raw eggs that they had to travel with in a very full car. Or else you did bring it, but no one asks, because they want to be nice, and then you find the mustard behind all the raisin brans after supper is over.
“Well, I’m glad I brought this. I said, ‘Yosi likes mustard on his scrambled eggs. But how much? I don’t know; let’s bring the whole bottle.’”
And you do not want to be short on anything. If you’re short, you can’t just make an announcement, because some people won’t hear you. You have to call a massive family meeting, or get up during a meal.
“Ooh, Mordechai’s going to say a d’var Torah!”
“No I’m not. I’m just saying, ‘We’re short on garbage bags, so everyone go easy.”
“You can’t at least tie that into the parsha?”
“Okay. It says, “Uv’lechtecha vaderech”… Wait, Sholom, you wanted to say something?”
“I wanted to announce that the knife with the M on it is Milchig, not Meat. And the one with the D on it has been used for Deli.”
Really what you need is a packing list. I’m probably forgetting some things, but so will you:
Clothing – Everyone has to pack their own. This can’t be communal.
Bottled water – Because who knows how the drinking water is out there, in the mountains where the bottled water comes from? I am literally looking at the bottle and noticing that it looks exactly like the mountain we’re driving toward. This way, though, everyone can spend the entire vacation going, “Whose half-finished water is this? No one’s?” and starting a new one.
Milk – You have to freeze these ahead of time until they’re the color of orange juice, and use them as ice packs to keep your meat cold in the car. And then, once you get to the vacation home, they will never ever thaw, and no one will drink them because they were once yellow.
A board game -- that no one will ever play. I don’t know when you think the adults will sit down to play a board game, but there’s nothing like one of these houses to help you find out that every family goes to bed at a different time. (“Wait… Even on vacation?!”)
Blow-up mattresses – because you don’t actually know the situation there. They might say that a bed fits two people, for example, until two people get on and spend the entire night trying not to fall into the middle.
Tylenol and Advil -- Someone might be in charge of this, but figuring out who it is and where they put it is something you can’t deal with unless you have some Tylenol or Advil first. You’ll just bring some along secretly; it won’t kill anyone.
Dish soap – Make sure to pack one you like, because all your clothes will smell like it.
Tuna – No Jewish vacation is complete without tuna. Also noodle soup.
Can opener – We’ve all forgotten this.
A little mayonnaise – This costs as much as a big mayonnaise, but it’s little and great for vacation so you don’t leave the next family mayonnaise that they’re going to throw out. Don’t waste food; waste money!
Tablecloths – Jews are the only people who bring tablecloths to the picnic tables in the park. Everyone else is okay with eating on other people’s gunk and bird footprints, like a waiter is coming around every half hour and wiping down the tables.
A massive bag of knives, forks, and maybe one spoon.
Seforim – So that if there’s any activity you don’t want to be a part of, you can go, “Welp! Time to learn.”
Jacket -- in case it gets cold. In fact, you’re hoping it gets cold – this is why you’re going to that destination -- but the jackets will go unused. Maybe you heard it gets cold in the mountains at night, but where are you going at night with all those people who go to bed at 6? Are you just not closing any windows, no matter what?
Broom -- Because where on earth do the hosts keep the broom?
Dustpan – You don’t need a dustpan. You’re just going to open the door and do one final forceful sweep so that all the dirt flies outside. The outside can’t get any more dirty than it is. And then all the local wildlife can gather around your door to clean it up.
Tums – Because you don’t know what anyone else is making or how long it’s been in their car.
Baby wipes – These have a thousand uses. You don’t even need a baby! 90% of being a parent is just wiping things.
Extra cash – because the farmer selling strawberries at the side of the road next to a large plywood sign that says, “straberys” might not take Zelle.
Tissues – Because people are like, “I probably won’t have to blow my nose. I’m on vacation!” Or they can use wipes.
That Betty Crocker pizza maker that every Jewish family has. Just make sure to mark whose pizza maker is fleishig or milchig, because it only comes in the one color.
“Wait, what did the F stand for?”
“Fish.”
Mordechai Schmutter is a weekly humor columnist for Hamodia, a monthly humor columnist, and has written six books, all published by Israel Book Shop. He also does freelance writing for hire. You can send any questions, comments, or ideas to This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.
