Well, hi there!

Last time we gathered, the topic du jour (which became flavor of the month) was the notion of over-booking summer activities for kids. I defended it, and now that summer is two-thirds over, I still would. With any luck, summer has a riddim of its own that settles into a feel-good groove regardless of commitments. Or even crises.

• While you’re busy making other plans…

I also know that in summer—or anytime—the fates can throw curveballs that hit you in the face with seams that imprint SURVIVAL MODE NOW. This happened last Friday, when my son had a sudden medical emergency that resulted in major surgery 12 hours after the onslaught. (He’s recovering well now.)

One leaves such a crisis feeling dizzied, humbled, and grateful. After all, he was off the grid in the Boundary Waters just last month; had this happened then and there, he’d have never made it home. And in a strange way, the many emergencies I’ve endured thus far in my life (horrible and life-changing) have schooled me in how the system works and trained me for this one.

Summer and the future look different, downright hazy, since his surgery. But we’re home, and the focus simplifies to nourishment, resting, and healing. His cliff–jumping, wake-boarding, and hardcore workouts prepping for the Princeton football team will have to wait. Thus the patient learns patience—and that we’re never really in charge.

And the dad learns that parenting doesn’t end at 18 or the final days before college. Sometimes the job only gets harder.

• Healing happens…

“Healing” is a billion-dollar word these days, with enough experts and gurus and research to make a Ph.D. in the topic implausible. So, instead, we each go through our own perpetual education. The older you get and the more scars you earn, the more healing becomes a state of mind. A challenge. A process that feels more like Zen than physical therapy.

• When unplugging takes on its own power

Unplugging—also a state of mind—comes naturally to me (FBOW). This summer, that has meant keeping work in check. Resisting blog writing. Finding the garden, kayak, and hanging with friends more fun than Facebook. And sometimes twitching in alarm when I’m practicing R&R and the cell phone rings or dings with texts.

Anyway, that cell phone doesn’t work like it used to. I mean, so many people are too overwhelmed to answer or reply—so your query sits like a mystery until…whenever. Too, the dang things often run out of power or just won’t function. That was true during the medical emergency when my wife was at a family gathering way up Lake Superior and I needed to inform her. Neither AT&T nor Verizon nor the magical Northern Lights could create a connection.

And we think these little things are the best and coolest thing since drive-in movies? I’ll take the drive-in, with popcorn and Jr. Mints, please. I’ll keep my land line too; one would have been priceless in this situation.

I wish more people chose to unplug, though I know it’s become difficult to ignore the attraction (addiction?) of a bestie sending you an emoji or an “LOL.” Unplugging is a discipline worth the…effort. And I swear it can lead to a more balanced, peaceful place.

• Balance and peace

Funny. These things may be within reach even when possibly life-threatening emergencies bring breathless fear, cancel my best-week-of-the-year vacation, and leave a guy feeling about as in-control as the loon parents and their baby who float and fish on my lake every day.

They dodge countless boats nonstop; the line between life and death for them is more thin and invisible than fishing monofilament. They’ll soon fly far away into only more perils and threats, including their dangerously BP-polluted winter home in the gulf of Mexico.

They will survive, I hope. We’ll all survive, I hope. But there are no guarantees. And I just watched my son spontaneously come closer to blowing out the candles than he ever has.

So we’ll enjoy this unexpected gift of time together. We’ll watch and listen to the Twins, sip beverages on the patio, and catch up on our cribbage.

And I’ll go back to unplugging, reflecting, and soaking in this gorgeous summer—while I can, wherever I may be. In spite of—or maybe thanks to—omnipresent uncertainty, I know that all we have is today.

And so far, today is just about perfect.

In a recent NYT column / book review about kids and summer, Julie Lythcott-Haims waxes poetic about lazy, old-school summers, while criticizing current trends to push America’s “luckiest” teenagers toward internships, college-prep classes, sports and music camps, or “maybe all of the above.” She disapproves, and asserts that summer is the perfect time for teens to “kick around doing nothing.”

I couldn’t agree more. If only modern life were so simple. But it’s not.

• Schools stop educating

Here in MN, where the education is pretty good, school happens at most 180 days a year. That leaves more than 50% of your days “free.” Summer brings three-plus months of…closed doors. The schools do what they can but usually fall short in music, arts, exercise, nature, and many more categories critical to maximize one’s potential.

Meanwhile, my last count found that 18 school days include standardized testing. That’s 10% of your school year—not including the dozens of days spent prepping.

Nationwide, education quality varies dramatically—from rigorous East Coast prep schools to intensely diverse city schools where priorities become safety, feeding under-nourished students, and providing classes (and translators) in myriad languages. Most of us have kids somewhere in the middle.

Engaged (“the luckiest”?) parents see the obvious voids and fill them with extracurricular activities. It’s a problem that you spin into an opportunity.

So summer becomes a time to upsize the education that public schools provide. Parents hope to find some camps and experiences—at our own (and often substantial) cost—to fill in what our schools simply don’t do.

Heck yeah, we’d all (parents too!) rather spend three months, “daydreaming in the hammock, (and) lying in the grass staring up at the clouds.” (We do still find time for that, by the way.) But frankly, we also have other things to do.

• East Coast Elitism?

Ms. Lythcott-Haims writes from an East Coast (and possibly elite) point of view. Yep, it sounds pretty sucky—turning teenagers into over-stressed competitors fighting for future suit-and-tie jobs on Wall Street or at Merck. It’s no wonder we Midwesterners can feel inferior and play some catch-up.

But for about 90% of the American population, summer-as-success school is not reality. The St. Paul school district now sends out a food truck (three rounds a day) just to feed students in the summer—while many of their schools go year-round just to provide food and shelter (and continued attempts to close the achievement gap).

Nationwide, millions of kids can’t play little league, join a soccer team, or escape to language camp because their parents lack the funds, the transportation, or the wherewithal to make it happen. Many can’t even get to a library.

• Kids, when left to their own devices…

Ms. Lythcott-Haims hopes for summers when her children live free-range and,
“come home breathless and wide-eyed with adventure.” Sweet! That’s what we all long for—adults too! But FBOW, unless you take away their many screen toys, teens’ visions these days may be more wide-eyed about digital devices—the spitfire, terse communication of texts, the countless, come-hither SM “communities,” and an endless and relentless stream of content that draws them in like no distant pond can.

If it weren’t for camps, teams, and—yes—schedules, most teens (and tweens) I know would spend more time this summer online than on a swing, field, or beach. Shit yes, I’ll fight against that addictive beast.

• You can do it all, just not all at once

This website preaches the gospel of balance—the goal of working hard and PLAYING hard. (Okay, playing lazy and easy too!) So in my community, we rejoice when August finally arrives, most camps and sports have stopped, and we run into neighbors on the lake or at the park with wide smiles on all faces and shouts of, “Where have you been?”

We gather old gear and pack up the car and head “Up North,” where family reunions, fishing, bonfires, and smores take on powerful—almost mystical—relevance. With any luck, our tweens and teens get to those places and feel the sweet relief of “getting away.” They bond with faraway cousins. Play Cribbage with grandparents. Go hiking, biking, fishing, and chase frogs and balls and each other.

We do this all year, actually—not just in August. Such things can happen on weekends, holiday breaks, and many of those 185 days a year when the school is closed. But yes, the balancing act gets harder every year. Because: we also want a competitive, well-rounded education. And good test scores. And ultimately, meaningful careers that pay the bills and allow freedom from financial worry plus enough slush fund for a BreakAway now and again.

• It’s about us, not “Admission Deans”

Here in the heartland, most of us aren’t sure what an Admission Dean is. But we do strive for smarts and success and fruitful futures. Summer extracurriculars are a necessary part of that. So is R&R.

There are better parents out there, and I may be a demanding SOB. (Just ask my kids.) But as my Grandma used to say,

“I’m not much good at doing nothing.”

So sometimes that, too—and preferably unplugged and outside—becomes a skill we have to teach, as Ms. Lythcott-Haims asserts. Forgive us if we want it all (even if not all at once).

Maybe there’s a Big Idea here—an opportunity to merge the two extremes at a rigorous, easy-going residential camp with sunrise salutations, healthful food, fresh air, singing and drumming, laughing and shouting, silence and sitting, and teachings from wise masters about all this complicated stuff.

Zen Boot Camp, anyone? When that opportunity arises, I know my kids will be there.

Whether they like it or not.

Memorial Day, 2015. The holiday has changed since my youth—when everyone went somewhere, usually to simple cabins and camping to catch real fish before overfishing happened. Nowadays, stores stay open and the city keeps humming. But many still head for the woods, and there’s a decidedly relaxed pace in the streets.

Vacations continue to lose the time battle to work pressures, kids’ activities, and screen living. Those who take time to vacation often go for shorter, closer, more water-parky variations. Most adults remain plugged in and communicate with colleagues (and beyond) throughout the day. The kids are more likely to snapchat their swimsuit selfie than catch and clean a walleye.

Still, thank God for the six holidays that most people still agree on. Sure, they may have associations with religions and military—and not everyone agrees with those. But the country suddenly, and gladly, slows way down and gathers as families and friends. The sigh of R&R (rest & relief) is as palpapable as the BBQ smoke in the air. We really ought to do this more often.

Meantime, we have New Year’s Day, Memorial Day, the fourth of July, Labor Day, Thanksgiving, and Christmas to be thankful for. Nobody’s messing with those. And we’re all the better for it. So go get on the water. Go root, root, root for the home team. Sing the national anthem. And be grateful not only for our great country, but for a few days off. *God Bless America!

As the CFO of my household of four, I was forced into action recently when a pile of credit card statements finally got my attention, and were packed with pages of purchases for … who knows?

Dozens of Amazons (a company that doesn’t bother to specify the items). Various online purveyors of whatnots. Sports sites and cosmetic clubs and, worst of all, a few scams—that can take hours (months?) to unwind.

Shopping has become easier than ever: Click! And The Thing is on its way. No boring browsing, no pawing or fondling. Heck, trying something on and inspecting it for quality have become passé; just peruse a few reviews, and return The Thing (with free shipping!) if it fails to fit.

Is it any wonder that 40% of Americans state they have too much stuff? Is anyone surprised that the stuff storage industry is booming (with 76% of the stuff stuck away because it’s seasonal, sentimental or simply never used). Should we rejoice that our economy is enjoying a new burst (bubble?) of consumerism thanks to internet commerce? Fine. But the buck stops here.

• This calls for executive orders

Though I rarely succumb to such extremes—because I know they may not work in the long run—I immediately wrote up and sent out a new procedure for making purchases. Now, there’s a form to fill out: Date, what, amount, from where, why. No pushing “buy” until a parent has initialed approval. And the discussion may include who’s paying. (Extravagant offspring can turn frugal fast when that $55 widget means gutting the piggy bank.)

The goals include stopping the Amazon flood, increasing our family’s mindfulness of greed, clutter, and the environment (Amazon’s packaging—ugh!), and making do with the backpack we have rather than assume the fancier new one will hold more happiness. Above all, we’ll all have one page of purchases to ponder: Transparency!

These life lessons start at home, and are more timely than ever with things like braces and college costs right around the corner. The cost of living keeps rising; does quality of life keep up?

Wish us luck on our new procurement policy; good thing I know better than to expect little more than a temporary rethink/reduce movement. Still, it’s helping. The orders seem to have slowed. We now have more conversations about stuff—and sometimes find a way to say no, make do, or seek a more creative (and less costly) solution.

• A student essay on simplicity inspires                    

On the same day I was issuing restrictive dictums, I was poring over past student work to find a sample for the writing course I’m currently teaching. The best one—that serendipitously fit that day’s theme—was titled, “The Art of Being Creatively Simplistic: A Minimalistic Manifesto.” She wrote a touching, compelling piece that offers a heartfelt alternative to knee-jerk materialism.

In case you, too, could use some fresh guidance for your SMI (Stuff Management Issues), here are her…

• 11 ideas for enlightened material restraint

1. Don’t get in debt
2. Work to get paid and meet your needs, not advance a career
3. Live in a small space
4. Get rid of excess material objects
5. Reduce expenses
6. Avoid the materialism of modern technology
7. Exercise, stay physically capable
8. Eat basic, wholesome foods
9. Improve practical skills
10. Serve your community
11. Learn the value of true pleasures — nature, friends, art

Pretty simple stuff, right?

The sabbatical inbox fills up so swiftly I sometimes long for the days of snail mail. Yet clearly people keep finding their way to the take-your-time movement. Fast Company has been particularly prolific with reports. Yet the drum beat also comes from the local paper, a new friend in Switzerland, and beyond.

• Is that a “thing?” Then the thrill is gone…

In this case, “thing” is just that—an object (purchase), not a trend, though the two often intersect. Recent research from Cornell confirms that experiences trump stuff over time, every time. “New things are exciting to us for a while, but then we adapt to them,” reports Professor Thomas Gilovich. Conversely, “Our experiences are a higher part of ourselves than our material goods.” Advice: Sell the big car; take a big break.

• New moms getting re-entry programs

Women are increasingly winning over the working world, the college world, and the ambition surveys. Yet they are also more likely to need career breaks—usually to have children and tend to family matters. Kudos to companies offering “Act 2,” “OnRamp,” and “Returnship” programs with clever names and win-win motives. A handful of books and thought leaders are also leading the charge—and not always just for family care. As Brigid Shulte, author of Overwhelmed, reflects, “The bottom line is that more and more people don’t want to work all the time.”

• MN study shows big support for sick and family leave

A recent MN Department of Health study is providing a push for legislation mandating employee PTO for family matters. It’s no fun to go to work while ill due to fear of losing your job. But the state Health Commissioner is quick to point out the public-health risks—and has data to prove that illnesses spread quickly when sick staffers infect the workplace. Letting people stay home may ultimately improve attendance rates!

• Take 6 months off?  Yes you can.

And finally, high 5s to Tomer Lanis, who hit my email box with a nice note and news of his new book, You Can Take Six Months Off. In an eerily similar scenario to my own family’s, he escaped his mortgage, schools, and pets and took wife and two kids sailing through the Caribbean. That picture of the Grenadines? I was right there, and took the exact same shot. And then we loaded onto a small “taxi” (fishing boat) for one of the strangest travel days ever that eventually landed us on our next island, even though various customs officers weren’t so sure about the idea.

Tomer’s family took six months; we took four; he wins. (We both win!) Tom HQs in Switzerland, and warns us on his website, “Caution: Living your dreams is addictive and contagious.” Now THAT is the kind of contagion (and family leave!) we can live with! My copy of the book is on its way, so I’ll report more soon.

Best of luck to Tomer Lanis and his book—and to all of us when we need sick leave, family leave, or (better yet), six months off.

Oh my.  A month has gone by. I last wrote about taking vacations—including from devices—and must have been truly inspired by my own ideas! But thus the blogging sabbatical ends. And speaking of inspiration…

• Local lottery winners say, “meh”

A married couple not far from here just won nearly $12 million, and seem appropriately pleased but surprisingly unfazed by their luck. The Star Tribune reports these heart-warming quotes…

“I have a fabulous job, and I like to work. I actually have to work tonight,” says Wife, of her waiting-tables job at the charming Lake Elmo Inn.

“I don’t think it’s going to change our lives that much,” ponders Husband.

“We really hope it doesn’t change the people around us,” suggests Wife.

There you have it: Real winners! Just folks that are suddenly rich, yet obviously have been living rich, content lives all along. That’s what can happen when you do something approximating our 11 Commandments of Fiscal Fitness—which are as much about living well and sanely as they are about money management.

• Is winning the lottery really “winning?”

Follow-up stories on lottery winners are rarely pretty. Too many “winners” quit their work, spend like crazy, and eventually end up jobless, possibly penniless, and even friendless.

Not long ago, for ex, media reported on a Minnesota young woman who had won millions and, some years later, mostly drove around her small town solo in her Hummer—while locals rolled their eyes and rumored that she’d spent it all, lost her career, and alienated her community.

Sometimes, all we need is right in front of us. As for all we want? Sometimes that stuff is just stuff, and we may be better off without it.

Best wishes to this model couple a few miles north of here. If I ever recognize them in a nearby pub, I’d like to buy them a drink and make a toast to their smarts.

A stranger buzz-crafting at the beach bar commented to me today, “There’s much better beer at the lobby bar—if you’re tired of this insipid piss!” “So I’ve heard,” I nodded, “That’s on my bucket list for today!” He laughed and slammed his beery hand. “That’s great; I though bucket lists were a lifetime thing!” “Nah,” I advised,

There is only today when on vacation; that ‘lifetime’ stuff can wait.” 

Thus we convened the committee of two and, from that spontaneous summit, this list came to life.

Bucket list for today: 11 pretty okay ideas (because ten is never enough) 

• No whining—not even about insipid beer.
• Chat up and tip kindly some wonderful staff members here at Akumal Bay Beach and Wellness Resort.
• Stop and listen to every live musician.

• Check e-mail just once a day; reply rarely and keep it to one sentence.
• Text only when necessary for kid control or group logistics.
• Avoid digitalia; read books; write in journal.
• Get exercise: Swim, snorkel, paddleboard, kayak, splash, chase kids.

• Meditate, or approximate by hugging a tree or staring at the sea.

• Eat too much, and ignore the scale in the room even if you can convert kilos to pounds.

• Early to bed (exhaustion) and early to rise (the construction that is ubiquitous in paradise).
• Don’t worry about a thing—especially to-do lists left at home and the Bucket List for Today.

They may be the most mind-blowing invention ever. But are smartphones as amazing as we think they are?

They have never: Cooked a delicious meal; hoisted the sails; shoveled snow.

What’s more, they can be troublemakers, as an ever-growing body of research and press suggests…

• Smartphones can ruin vacations.

Our regal friends at Princess Cruises did some research and found that 67% of Americans would feel completely relaxed if they were entirely “off the grid.” 52% said that having a smartphone “makes it harder to relax.” Yet a cruise without wifi would be like a cruise without booze.

• Smartphones screw up your love life.

NYT and a boatload of researchers report that devices (not the bedroom kind) are making partners feel ignored, insecure, disconnected, abandoned, and just plain bummed. What happens when the shunned partner finally says, “You don’t turn me on anymore?”

• Smartphones cause “tech neck.”

Fact: Bodies age. Fact: Smartphones speed up that pain in the neck. Way back in 2011, 83% of cell phone users reported some neck and hand pain from texting. More recently, a local chiropractor says 80% of her cases are likely be related to phones. Not familiar with tech neck? Take a selfie next time you’re staring at your smartphone.

• Smartphones make kids slow and fat.

I’ve been sitting on this research for a while, but that keeps me in the theme. In short, the WHO believes that 80% of kids worldwide are not getting enough exercise. It takes youth (9-17), on average, 90 seconds longer to run a mile than it took their parents. There’s plenty of blame (and munchies?) to go around. But techno devices increasingly keep butts stuck in seats.

• Smartphones kill conversations. 

What’s better than sitting around chewing the fat with friends and fam? Checking your smartphone, apparently. Thus deteriorates thousands of years of progress in communicating via body language, expressions, and eye contact (remember that?). Run your own test: Ask some gathering, “Which ________ song said ______” See how many phones flip out. See how many memories die.

Not to worry. I got me an iPhone 6 now. The whole wide world is at my fingertips, right?

LOL.

We hear much about the 1% thing. In this land of plenty: Dislike. God bless Scandinavia and other successful social-democracy experiments, where people can get rich, but also most everyone enjoys excellent education, employment, healthcare, and—wow!—lots of time off for vacations, babies, families, and more.

Yet hard-working people can do well the world over, and you meet examples daily. A friendly deliveryman or breakfast waitress can make your day (while a millionaire in a Mercedes may flip you off for no reason). Somehow, sometimes, hard-working laborers lead role-model lives; competence is not always about the money.

• A modest man gone viral

The story of one James Robertson, 56, went viral recently, and he soon found himself $345K richer…and rising. The Detroit Free Press reported about his daily, 10-mile, walking commute to a low-paying job. This he’s done for 10 years. A few good Samaritans took notice, went to GoFundMe, and now Mr. Robertson has the car of his dreams—plus a nice cash cache.

• Hard workers: Everyday heroes

This tale stirs up many sub-stories, including: The sad lack of job options for the carless and working poor; the nonstop political kerfuffle about funding public transportation and living wages; the incongruity of well-to-do do-gooders suggesting they can solve systemic and societal problems by selectively throwing their money around.

The real story here, though, is the profound role-modeling Mr. Robertson provides by enduring these conditions just to put food on his table—with (until now) no obvious prospects for significant advancement or payoff. He’s just one of the millions (billions?) of workers who toil away out of loyalty, self-sufficiency, and pride.

Most of us have met many of these everyday heroes—and still do. I think about the ones I’ve had the good fortune knowing, especially when I’m feeling overworked, the cash isn’t flowing, hard-working folks do something for me while I merely flash my credit card or move from Point Y to Z.

My heart forever goes out to Irma, my fellow server and a “lifer” at the country club—whose patience and laugh went right to my heart and the many members who adored her. John, the janitor (when that was the title), who put up with college-dorm crap and always had wisdom and a smile to share. Bob, the pot man. Lee, the fry cook. And Joe.

• Joe the Dishwasher

I once worked in a downtown Minneapolis restaurant with a booming lunch business, busy bar, and serious dinner crowd. As a newbie waiter, my shifts might start at 10 in the morning—and end after midnight. It seems like Joe was always there, manning the piles of pots, dishes, leftovers, and epic messes that come with such a job.

Joe served as bedrock amid the kitchen’s slippery chaos. And he was always kind and appreciative to me, which is more than I can say for some of the staff who worked in a place with hierarchy and secrets.

Imagine water and food scraps spraying everywhere, all the time. Picture steam and sweat and the occasional burn. Joe did yeoman’s work, never stopped, and never complained. In fact, he rarely spoke, though I know that he walked an hour to and from work every day to his home in a Native-American, government housing complex.

I can’t fathom what keeps a Joe like that ticking. But I do know that—even amid the mean scene that a kitchen can become—Joe held a high post. If you screwed up the way you distributed dirty dishes, you were pulled aside by the chef. If Joe couldn’t keep up with a crazy-busy mealtime, Chef commanded an assistant from the line over to help. And when employees were fed between shifts, Joe got whatever he wanted.

Chef: “You hungry, Joe? That was a rough lunch. What can I make you?”

Joe (shyly, as usual): “You got any ribs?”

Chef (with a smile): “I got more ribs than you can shake a stick at, Joe! I’ll heat some up and you just let me know if you want some more.”

When the employees ate, the staff segregated by tables and status—management at one, fancy waiters at another, underclass waiters and bussers at the next, kitchen crew at the largest one where the evening’s specials and recipes were debated while fresh and fussy ingredients were fondled and on display.

Joe always sat alone—amid the odors of his work and in a uniform that usually looked like a Jackson Pollack painting. But I so remember the satisfied smirk on his face when he dug into his plate of fine dining.

This upscale eatery—where CEOs swung deals over Scotch and Symphony Ball mavens gossiped over Chardonnay—could not function without him. Countless jobs and meals and celebrations depended on his dependability and unheralded skills.

Nobody ever crowd-sourced a car for Joe. He may never have gotten a car, and probably didn’t get rich. Yet those of us who got to work with him are richer for it. Maybe richer than the people we served.

• Loyalty and attitude trump arrogance and ignorance

The backbone of any society is the good people who pick the crops, repair the streets, drive the busses, and dish out our food-on-the-run. Make it a game: When you see someone quietly but diligently making the world a better place despite low pay and status, give them thanks. And a smile.

Chances are, they’ll say, “You’re welcome!” And smile back.

Well, the Vacation Revolution we announced in the last post is confronting resistance already. The NYT reported last week on the trend of “workations.” That’s when high-wired, workaholic types travel to exotic, “all-inclusive” destinations decked out with cool necessities like wifi, tech gear, office space, new coworker-pals and, of course, killer coffee.

• The next big co-working thing

Early adopters, entrepreneurs, and idea-mongers are showing up in droves—to places like Surf Office (in California and the Canary Islands), Mutinerie Village (a restored farmstead near Paris and, soon, Coconat, a bucolic retreat near Berlin.

Why not? Why not go hang out somewhere suave where you can work, network, and surf both waves and webs 24/7? If you’re young, worldly, and omni-connected—and you hate unplugging (and love working)—then this is for you. Oh yeah, it may help to have deep pockets or a generous expense account.

The idea further validates the co-working movement, which is uplifting news for local pioneer, CoCo. Maybe the next expansion for CoCo is a space in a retired Minnesota lake Resort!

• The next big un-working thing

Speaking of lakes, folks are also coming in droves (and pickups, ATVs, and snowmobiles) to vegetation retreats atop frozen lakes. Some call it ice fishing. Some just seem to meditate for hours, staring at a hole in ice. Some, though not all, catch bottle bass. They also collaborate, as in, “Catchin’ anything?” But very few of them require laptops, cell phones, or wifi.

To be sure, these peaceful people most likely return to work the next day. So their vegecation is temporary—unlike our workation friends who never seem to shut down.

To each his (or her) own. But every single soul I’ve invited to the Ice Shanty has loved their retreat into the comfortable, low-stim sanctuary. Things like giddiness, games, candles, and singing happen. Things like work, worry, and selfie-importance don’t.

When I ask my friends, “Why is this old, little trailer so magical and fun?” They usually say something like, “Because we’re away.”

A BreakAway comes in many forms. That includes 1974 ice-fishing campers on ice, and maybe even surfing workations by the sea.

Still, I’ll take the vegecation over a workation. Work will wait. Chilling out in the present moment won’t.