• Shovel away the mess, notice a little light on the horizon.

And in the end
The love you take
Is equal to the love you make.

            ~ The Beatles

• My kids are taking FILM pics and listening to LPs. HELP!!! (Photo by EH)

Go figure. Over the years, I’ve gradually—and begrudgingly—purged my piles of 2,000++ albums, dozens of cameras, and enough toys and tools for using them to fill a large barge. They’ve been deemed as mostly worthless when I’ve tried to sell them off, never that that they cost me millions of mowings, shovelings, and waitering hours!

This is not a “new” thing, of course. But the fervor seems ramped up such that the “cool” factor of carrying an old Pentax SLR or spinning an LP is, well, almost alarming. Some of us are still trying to catch up with the dang Digital Revolution, for crying out loud! Why didn’t we just stick with all that stuff from the start!?!

This here oh-so filmy pic comes courtesy of my daughter, 17, who also is posting on an Instagram film site, along with millions of other film-to-digital-to-website images. Is it still “film” when you make the picture digital? Is it a “picture” if you’ve posted it online? There’s more to say about this, but I must ruminate first. Meantime, whatever your media, heed your kids, go to film school, and take more pics!

PS That’s me, on the right, with my son on the left. I had fun, but caught no fish…

• Deliver us from evil. Amen.

Yesterday was a dark, dark day for the USA. Apparently, co-existing with a deadly disease and a long list of other problems just isn’t enough. It appears that riots and violence at the nation’s capital are what some people think we need right here, right now. 

In the Caribbean, passions can also run often loud and occasionally shocking, though I’ve never seen anything like yesterday’s DC hysteria. Boats down there almost always have a whimsical name. And this one caught my camera a number of times as I ferried from one island to another with DELIVEROUS tracking alongside.

A small delivery boat, the name made perfect sense as it raced from place to place, unloading cargo before moving on. On this day when words don’t work and not much makes sense, “Deliver us from evil” will have to do. Amen.

• Rough year, anyone? Even the snow knows… 

There will be volumes of verbiage written about this troublesome year. So for now, I’ll try to make no sense of it, and leave that to smarter Thought Leaders.

I must, however, note the challenge—nay, the absurdity!—of hosting a site that advocates career breaks, long-term travel, taking time off, unplugging, and such.

Why? Well, many (most?) of us experienced job insecurity or loss that made viable careers more valuable yet shaky than ever.  As for long-term travel, that became an ill-advised financial outlay that could make you sick and take you to a shut-down dystopia. Time off, while always welcome, this year was forced way more that most people wanted. And as for unplugging, forget it! I want my NTV!

Still, I found things to think and write about, even if it sometimes felt like filibustering. And frankly, there were unexpected gifts and pleasures too. My kids were home and together more than I ever would have expected. My house got C-19 but we got through it okay mostly. I spent more time outdoors and exercising than ever (never mind that it ended in knee surgery). And all that dead time forced some introspection and meaning-of-life pondering that, though often heavy, is important stuff.

I hope we can get back “normal” (whatever that is) in 2021, including struggling with finding balance and dreaming about BreakAways. Meantime, lay low, keep the faith and, don’t forget to SCREAM…

HAPPY NEW YEAR! ! ! ! !

• Hey, how did that sculpture land on this pristine beach?

On New Year’s Day 2010, on the island of St John, USVI, I stumbled upon this beast, as today I stumbled upon the photo. The seas stay mellow on this side of the island—as you might surmise by surveying the shallow water and the surrounding reef islands.

So how did this mega-ton sculpture of cement end up on this quiet beach? How could such gentle waves move such a weighty thing? Where did it come from? When will it erode into the sea or be moved so nobody gets hurt? We’ll never know.

These kinds of mindless mysteries make travel so fascinating. And when on a BreakAway, one actually stops to ponder such questions. I hope to return to that beach someday, 10-plus years later, and find out if it’s still there.

• Hey look! Airplanes!

A dear friend was in my neighborhood yesterday and—rather than text passively—he called me. When I answered, he said, “Can I stop by?” And I replied, “Hell, yeah!”

So we sat outside, 6’ apart, and caught up on the months that we haven’t seen each other, never mind that we used to often (weekly?) for social, sports, and more. The conversation was at once funny, heartfelt, and deep.

One realizes the importance of friends. Of connections. Of a life often too busy but blessed with community and conviviality. As he walked away I felt a flood of gratitude, melancholy, and uncertainty.

So I looked up to the sky, as if for answers. And two puffy plane tails were crossing the silent blue yonder. I immediately sent him the picture with the message, “Bluer skies ahead…Our paths will cross again soon!” He replied, “That’s our souls reflecting an awesome conversation.”

Beyond the beauty of the vibrant vapors and December’s strained light on naked oaks, I couldn’t help pondering…maybe brave pioneers in those planes are soaring toward a BreakAway heavenly haven? Maybe we all will again, one day soon enough.

Keep the faith.