Twice this week, while on the phone trying to expedite matters of consequence that had become stalled, this was what my teleconference-mate told me.

“Uh, okay, as you wish,” was my delayed response—though I secretly wanted to teleport myself to them, bonk their cranium with the telephone, and not leave their face until we’d solved the matter.

• What we have here…

is a failure to communicate. And to collaborate, create, and connect. Call me crazy, but I miss the days when life happened in real time, face to face. Now, a relentless chore we all face is simply dealing with our inboxes. Our texts. And our calendroids.

How did THEY ever survive when, as in my grandparents’ time, food was planted and canned and cooked for every meal? When communication was by visiting your neighbors or going to town (until that new-fangled “party line” arrived)? When entertainment was swapping stories in the sitting room (before radio wowed the masses)?

• Do you ever wonder…

If “send me an email” really means, “Leave me alone. I’m busy with my screen right now.”

If “kids these days” will know how to endure decades of marriage that (to work) require ongoing communication, compromise, and commitment?

If “kids these days” are getting short-shrifted when they sit around texting, even when gathered together; where’s the mischief and laughter in that?

If texting as a now-dominant form of communication comes close to conveying the detail, nuance, and emotion that can make even little moments (if I may) amazing?

If online teaching can match the rigors and surprises of a convivial classroom experience? (Two friends have started new gigs in this growing field, whereas I love the challenge and exhilaration of teaching a classroom full of living, babbling millennials).

• LIFE goes on…

Fortunately, both of my emails did get replies. The matters got resolved. Life goes on.

But this reluctant screen-stronaut longs for living that happens in real time, and in your face—like these Italian gentlemen enjoying la dolce vita. It’s raining and they’re late for lunch. But they might blow smoke in each other’s face until happy hour, and then head the bar to continue the conversation with a few dozen amici.

To them, I lean in, clink our glasses loudly, and shout, “Salute’!” To those who keep saying send me an email/text me/check your inbox, I retort, “Vada via!”*

* Italian for “Go away.”

You can’t toss a diploma anymore without hitting some media story about the plight of millennials. They can’t find decent jobs. They’re up to their mortar boards in debt. They’re moving back in with their parents in record numbers—40%. That’s 21.6 million millennials (18 to 31) shacking up with Mom and/or Dad.

According to one recent story, in fact, any stigma about returning to the empty nest has now faded away like a forgotten frat party. The great recession humbled many people’s aspirations, of course. But it’s also true that this generation has been particularly cozy with their parents—and many parents welcome them back with open arms and minds.

Some staggering statistics

Living at home is only the beginning. Consider a few more stats:

• 20% of Americans have student loans. (Countrywide Financial)
• 55% say their education loans are affecting decisions such as getting married, buying a house, and/or saving for retirement. (Countrywide Financial)
• 17% of millennials in their 20s with at least some college education claim to be “totally independent” now, compared to 23% in 2011. (PNC Wealth Management)
• 58% of 20-29 year olds with some college rate themselves behind where they expected to be in terms of financial success. (PNC Wealth Management)

Beyond the numbers, though, the trend hits close to home. In my circle of friends and families, I’m hard-pressed to think of one college grad who waltzed with ease from graduation into a career-worthy job. Even unpaid internships are tough to land. Heck, most high-school students don’t have summer or other part-time jobs, either.

I don’t mean to show my age. But…back in the day, virtually everyone worked. And if you asked your parents for some money, they’d probably reply, “Get a job.”

Yet most folks would agree that “kids grow up so fast these days.” Indeed, in many ways, they do—from an early obsession with colleges, grades, and test scores to early exposure to sex, drugs, and digital living. Even LinkedIn recently announced a new target: High school and college students. “This is a way we can engage kids in their future,” states LinkedIn mouthpiece Christina Allen.

We can engage them in more screen time, I think she means. Yet the best contacts and jobs will still call for traditional social skills like taking initiative, minding your manners, and maintaining presence. As Woody Allen says, “80% of success is showing up.” (And I don’t think he meant on a LinkedIn page.)

Time for Temporary Retirement?

One can only hope for a big-picture, long-term outlook for these young’uns (and their families). Why not, for instance, take that first career break before the career kicks off? One could…

• Take a gap year, like so many countries kids do, and travel on the cheap; is there anything more educational than travel? Won’t most worthy employers be impressed—especially if you become bilingual?
• Join the Peace Corps, Americorp, or other worthy outreach program.
• Look into teaching in a developing nation.
• Check out living with a relative in a faraway city or country.
• Get entrepreneurial and start a business.

It’s conceivable that these millennials will need to work 50 years before officially retiring—if they ever do find jobs, that is. My hope is that this group and their challenging circumstances might help usher in the paradigm shift that makes temporary retirement throughout their career a common, and celebrated, experience.

On that goal, they’re off to a good start!

I just picked up my kids (ages 10 and 16), along with seven other Rosevillians, after their week at Camp Foster at Lake Okoboji, Iowa. (Yes, Iowa.) While camp isn’t for every kid and is unfortunately unaffordable for some, this Summer Guy bursts with gusto in support. The reasons stack high as 555 pancakes, but here are a Top 11…

• No adults, hardly. In this helicopter era, kids need a break from the ever-loving (over-loving?) Units that may take too many pics, ask too many questions, and expect too much.
• Screams and shouts. The voices you pick up after camp are so hoarse they sound almost sick. But the reason is clearer than the camp’s mess-hall bell: They sing, cheer, shout, and laugh all day (and sometimes, all night). THEY UNPLUG THEIR DIGITALIA and invent their own entertainment. What a joyful noise!
• Those songs. Just about everything is covered—from today’s hits to camp classics to spontaneous compositions. But a few refreshing themes stand out: No swearing, no dissing, no lewdness. They take a vacation from Ke$ha and rap and come home singing “One Tin Soldier.”
• Unbroken circles. The power of song manifests in many ways. But perhaps the most touching is on the last night at bonfire, when “graduates” (16-year-olds in their last year) get encircled by the counselors who sing “Will the Circle Be Unbroken” with revamped lyrics that include, “May our friendships last forever, and the memories last a lifetime.”
• Coming of age. As those lyrics suggest, each year at camp—and the simple patch that may be your only material souvenir—represents a symbolic step from childhood into adulthood. When you drive away from your last camp, you’re riding a rite of passage. And because you know it and feel it, you probably shed a few tears about it.
• Extraordinary activities. Sure, kids these days get to do all kinds of things we never did, for better (more travel for many) and worse (more screen time for most). At camp, you still learn dying arts like sailing, archery, and arts and crafts.
• Specialty sessions.  At Camp Foster (like most camps), you can stick with the lighter, looser schedule. Or you can sign up for focused opportunities like watersports, horseback riding, and watercraft safety training via the Spirit of America program.
• Pranks. Campers play giddy, silly tricks on one another. One cabin will get up in the middle of the night to set up a practical joke on another—all in good fun. Soon comes revenge. And the game goes on and on…
• Backwardness. Growing up these days seems filled with evermore expectations and rules. At camp, “Backwards Bridge” MUST be crossed walking backwards—or the troll below will steal your flip-flops. Breakfast may be served for dinner. And “Prom” (for the oldest ones) lets you dress in crazy garb from the prop room.
• Improv. In any era, kids are apt to feel both awkward as baby ponies and yet too cool for school. That stuff gets shed like clothes at the pool once camp gets going—and acting out turns into acting, dancing, making silly skits, and making others laugh (while laughing at yourself). It’s a great antidote to school’s stressful hallways.
• Summer. Around here, the warmest season seems also the shortest—yet certainly the sweetest. Camp carves out a time to worship the sun. Punctuate the years. And find a warm, relaxed groove—if only for one week—just before the back-to-school ads hit the fan.

As a hands-on parent, few experiences are as easy (I get a week break too!) yet so valuable. Yes, your child may cling and cry as you stand in line to leave them behind. But with any luck, when you pick them up, they’re bursting with stories and memories—and begging to come back next year.

Hey, why not a camp for parents, too!?!

Financial Times recently posted a story extolling the virtues of extended time off, paid sabbaticals, completely unplugging, and taking strategic distance from your work to help you get better focus and perspective. The article offers many role models who are richer (in all ways) because of their commitment to balance.

Much credit goes to the founder of the Strategic Coach program, Dan Sullivan, who helps entrepreneurs grow their businesses and leverage the benefits of free time—while taking off 155 days each year himself. As he sagely states,

Taking time off refreshes the brain but it also simplifies your brain.”

It’s a great read, so go there! Meantime, here are a few quotes that stack up like persuasive testimonials from entrepreneurs who have learned to accomplish more by working less…

• “The fewer days I work, the greater my measurable economic results.”

• “The person should completely disconnect during the sabbatical…No checking email. No calls. Total sabbatical.”

• The sabbatical “was great for me, and great for the company to run without me for six weeks.”

• “I delegated more and I told the people in the office that if I called on a free day they were to hang up the phone on me.”

• “I now have a fairly full life. I do a lot of community work, I travel and I have a great family life. I wouldn’t have that if I hadn’t found the ability to take free days.”

There’s much more to say and consider from this article. But alas, this writer is on vacation, and is about to exceed the 55-minute-per-day limit on screen time. So why not join me? Peruse the story, put your screen to sleep, and go outside and refresh your viewpoint and outlook!

A provocative blog post recently crossed my desk, written by a woman named Satori who exhorts her readers to “Do yourself a favor and buy that damn plane ticket already!” A photographer by trade and a traveler by passion, Satori spells out and debunks the five excuses that keep dreamers asleep and stuck:

1. Traveling is too expensive!
2. It’s way to0 dangerous to travel.
3. I don’t have friends who can travel with me. And I don’t want to travel alone.
4. But I can’t just quit my job. What happens if I can’t find a job when I get back?
5. I’m not sure if I can take that risk.

It’s a good read. And the comebacks and questions to the excuses make a convincing case that, by golly, a guy could actually get up and, like, go for it!

• The more you travel, the easier (and more addictive) it gets

I’ve tried, myself, to address the obstacles and Big Buts that keep people from busting a major move to another country or culture.

And let’s face it, I’m lucky. My resume of journeys might get trumped and trampled on by countless others, but I’ve had five big career breaks—with highlights including one year off, going RTW, heading out alone and (with 1, 2, and 3) taking my kids, replete with homeschooling (I got a B), and much more.

But more important than the prolonged trips—and perhaps a side effect of them—is the way that travel has become almost second-nature to me. Oh sure, those damn excuses still pop up powerfully at times. But they rarely get in the way any more than that dazed shopper you must navigate around in the grocery store.

So spring break getaways become a virtual given; after all, winter bites in Minnesota. Holidays away happen almost routinely; after all, what better gift than to celebrate somewhere exotic? Flying off to meet up with faraway friends has become an annual event. And summer vacations are a must—and usually don’t call for airfare, rental cars, pricey hotels or much planning. Yet there ain’t nothin’ better.

• But the “Big One” always lingers…

Yet every seven (make that five) years of so, a bona fide BreakAway is in order. I feel it in my bones, and it kicks my body and brain so powerfully that those damn excuses become easier to knock down than a row of dominoes. In fact, the next big trip simmers in my thoughts daily already—even though the last one (to Europe with the kids) ended only and exactly one year ago.

Call me cocky. Call me spoiled. Call me stubborn. Or just call me lucky (as I already admitted). But maybe you are too, right? Satori is, whoever she is.

Thanks for the insights and insights, Satori.

Happy sails…

Travel is never a matter of money but of courage.  I spent a large part of my youth traveling the world as a hippie. And what money did I have then? None. I barely had enough to pay for my fare. But I still consider those to have been the best years of my youth.The great lessons I learned has been precisely those that my journeys had taught me.”

-Paulo Coelho

Earlier this week I visited an earth angel who was part of the village who helped raise my children when they were young, and I asked her how her recent one-week vacation was.

Oh, fine, fine,” she replied, “It became a staycation so I finally got both bathrooms painted; I had some fun but it was mostly hard work!”

Indeed. If we all had enough time off, wouldn’t it be great to take summer vakay, a winter getaway, and still have PTO left to tend to ill kinfolk and home improvement?

But the fact is: Most don’t. So the sacred one week off—even per year—has become evermore elusive. Short and close is in. Staycations tried a paradigm-shifting run.

But are opinions shifting?

I suspected as much when a recent factoid arrived like a fresh breeze: 57% of Americans “agree that ‘staycations’ are a thing of the past, with nearly half also agreeing that a vacation isn’t a vacation unless you pack up and leave town.” (Source: Kelton Research).

In other words, Let’s Go!

Those 7 (or so) daze are the ones you’ll cherish, right? So why fight to get your one week of summer bliss? The reasons are endless, but some favorites include…

• Your kids will unplug, run, frolic and fish, and thank you very much (for years to come).
• You’ll catch up on sleep, if not emails (if you must).
• In many places, summer shines as the best, blessed season, with free vitamin D from above.
• You’ll take time to cook creative meals—or get happily lazy and go out.
• Strangers and old faces will appear who tell fascinating stories, and are also just delighted to be there, now, with you.
• Getting there is half the fun: Fill the road trip with songs, stops, snacks, pics, and spontaneity.
• Take time to study (worship?) the clouds, waves, breeze, rocks, birds, and bees.
• Re-connect with ever-green traditions like bonfires, hikes, rock-skipping, and floating—doesn’t really matter what you’re sitting in or on.
• Try something new that your environs offer. Sailing? Deep-sea fishing? Wakeboarding? Arts & crafts? Picking ripe berries and cooking wild mushrooms?

When the year is over and not much stands out (other that it was REALLY BUSY), you’ll thank yourselves for skipping that lame, more-of-same staycation. Rather, seek some real time to BreakAway to something so superior, like Lake Superior (as seen in this picture), where my SUV will soon be headed.

As a jumpy dad teaching his teenager to drive, I have a new respect for the complex privilege. As a recent recoverer from a head-on collision, I carry uncomfortable baggage about distracted drivers. The gentleman who crashed into my vintage BMW, you see, had simply fallen asleep at the wheel. And not for the first time.

I saw the swerves, hit my brakes, and tried to get out his way. But there was nowhere to go. Amid rush-hour traffic, it’s miracle the 2-car, head-on mash-up didn’t become a multi-car pile-up.

Get ready to see a lot more accidents, much like this one. Prepare to participate, if you like to stay connected or, worse, others do and there’s no place to hide.

• Cars (and drivers) about to get super-wired

I heard the news today, oh boy: By 2019, more than half of new cars will be wired with voice-activated computer systems that will allow drivers to text, tweet, post to FB, make dinner rezzies, and Google Lady Gaga lyrics. While exciting on the surface, an exhaustive study by AAA (who’s typically pro-auto-everything) just found that drivers tending to online antics instead of, say, stoplights, will be severely impaired.

The academician behind the research has already found that simply talking on a cell phone distracts operator attention comparable to driving with a .08 blood-alcohol level. That DWI can, of course, land you, in jail, in treatment, and carless for 6 months. Oh yes, and your insurance rates will likely triple. Assuming you live.  But surfing while driving? Knock yourself out.

• Who’s in charge here?

The federal government has urged  the car companies to proceed with caution; they won’t. The car companies insist they’re building in greater safety (are they liars? or just greedy?). The public, who already has shown precious little courtesy or common sense when it comes to abusing digitalia, will likely covet these toys like coke addicts crave nose-candy.  Never mind that AAA calls this evolution:

a looming public safety crisis.”

The “arms race” has begun.

• Unplugging: losing the marketing battle

Americans are taking fewer and shorter vacations, working longer hours, staying in touch with the office while on vacation (and everywhere else), getting less rest (and exercise), and staying plugged in most everywhere—including bed. (Have you seen the new mattresses that come wired?)

As new driving machines further rewire our brains, we can only hope that the marketing machine for unplugging and taking BreakAways gets equal time.

Don’t hold your breath. And don’t bother honking when that tweeting driver comes at you, head-on.

“Meditation goes mainstream” shouted the headline in yesterday’s local paper. Then followed a lengthy article about the many benefits (some now proven by science!) and how the practice has become embraced by employers, schools, churches, and more. What timing: I finished my approximately-annual many-month class on meditation yesterday morning.

• Not your typical hobby

Meditation, which now also goes by other names including “mindfulness stress reduction” and “relaxation response” may not rank up there with golf and gardening as pastimes where those pursuing pleasantry go. But like yoga, countless too-tense individuals have added it to their repertoire to help pursue perspective, presence, and calm.

Let’s just call it an antidote to the many pressures to work and stay wired 24/7.

• Many paths lead there

The class I take meets for two hours, but features meditation for only a small part of the time. The rest of the time fills with directed conversation, readings, writing, and all kinds of exercises (mostly not physical). Our teacher comes from a long and strong Buddhist background. Our sessions might be called Zen Lite.

Indeed, sometimes the two hours pass with lightness—laughter and silliness. But often, people open up and you gradually learn why they are there. And it’s not always the CEUs; our circle always includes Kleenex alongside the flowers.

The list reads rather like a therapist’s calling card. Depression. Anxiety. Abuse. Perfectionism. Insomnia. Unemployment or financial failure. Divorce or estrangement. Serious injury. Chronic pain. Chem-dep or recovery. Death of a child, parent, or spouse. Fill in the blank.

Meditation and the other things we experience must help. Because rarely is anyone absent or late. No one leaves early. And like me, many people come back for more now and then.

• “In whatever form…”

It’s true: Many meditation styles have exacting rules on nuances like sitting positions, music or silence, light or dark, short or long, morning or evening, and so on. Fortunately, at least for us “advanced” students, our homework now suggests daily meditation “in whatever form.”

That means the practice might be done most anywhere, any time. It might be sitting in that pretzel position. Or it might be in a comfortable chair. Maybe it’s walking, or even lying down. In fact, she often uses my kayaking as an example. (Please don’t tell her I often wear headphones blasting Led Zeppelin.)

Meditation can go by many names, but my favorite is Relaxation. It’s what the locals practice like a religion on Caribbean islands. It’s what fans most crave when they watch a long baseball game. It’s why most everyone wants a back yard, patio, or park bench to hunker down on. It’s why some folks fish.

Whatever you call it, it’s what the world needs now.

In a Zenny mindfulness class I’m taking, a woman explained the mantra she asks herself whenever she senses her brain wandering cluelessly:

“Am I present?”

Most people anymore might prefer to ask themselves,

“Am I connected?”

Whatever happened to watching waves? Or a simple sporting event, for that matter? When did it become virtually de rigueur to be playing with your device(s) while chatting, studying, walking, eating, and (yes) pooping?

Last Sunday, I found myself slapping my forehead in shock and awe as this mass addiction played out. Here are just 5.5 of those scenes.

• Basketball refs on break. During halftime, two refs strutted to their chairs to rest—and picked up their cell phones and started tapping even before grabbing their Gatorade.
• Sidetracked driver. I was driving at 40 mph, and a car languidly pulled out of a coffee shop parking lot right in front of me. She didn’t see me, didn’t signal, and motored ahead way too slowly—only to swerve off on a freeway entrance ramp while executing a horrendous merge. When I passed her, there she was, blithely chatting on her cell phone and gesturing away. Dangerously not present.
• Three at a time. I watched some young girls having a playdate. Teddy bears? American Girl? Barbie?  Sometimes, we hope. But Babs has some pretty tough competition when the girls are watching TV— and simultaneously playing on an iPad and a handheld device.
• Preoccupied coach. Picture a soccer tournament with 10-year-old girls playing hard on a wet, windy day. Impressive stuff, except for their coach, who got at least six phone calls during the game—and took turns yelling at her team and into her iPhone.
• Sunday supper. When entering a restaurant, I noticed a family sitting at a table waiting for their food. In the old days, this might have been a chance to catch up, plan summer, or just yuck it up. In these new days, the gathering instead offered a fine chance to … stare solo at mobile phone screens and occasionally click them.
• Yes, pooping. Back at that basketball tournament, the one men’s bathroom stayed busy. I ducked in to pee. But all the urinals were occupied. So I proceeded to the toilet stalls, opened two doors, and on both sat roundballers texting away while taking care of business. (I don’t know why they left the doors unlocked.)

May you live in techy times, my friends, and find much productivity, creativity, and connectivity with your tools and toys.

May you also remember to set them down now and than and ask yourself, “Am I present?”

The unusually cold May-Day skies were crying today—the last day I had the pleasure of teaching at College of Visual Arts (CVA).

After 89 years, this St. Paul arts school on historic Summit Avenue is shutting its doors. The grand mansion that has educated thousands of young artists has run out of time.

Life happens. And sh*t happens (never mind that I preach to my classes to avoid unsavory language in their college writing). Scores of students who thought they had their college career mapped out now face what makeyourbreakaway calls the Unplanned Career Break.

• Get outta here

It happens all the time. Folks get fired. Others face layoffs. Spouses flee. Families lose homes or must suddenly move away with little or no notice. Usually, such bombshells bring nasty ramifications, and some are just plain tragic.

But sometimes, a gnarly twist of fate can spiral into a hopeful destiny. After a semester of angst, all my students are either graduating or moving on to other colleges—new worlds of possibilities and promise. They’re too smart, too creative, and too resilient to let bad news stop their progress for long.

Heck, when I got fired once, I took the summer off. That summer became seven months long and was graced with sunshine, lake time, family and friends—and freedom from relentless stress that had been hitting 11 on the intense-ometer. That experience became my first Career Break, and the start of a paradigm shift of how I’d like to live and work. How I’d like to spend my time.

Soon after that unplanned Sabbatical came a new life partner, home, and career. Life since has been bursting with blessings, yet never without rude surprises. Sh*t still happens. Yet wonders always await. We can’t control which one shows up next.

• The only constant is change

When the news of CVA’s closing hit the streets, a sizeable community of teachers, students, staff, alumni, and supporters went into collective shock. The Powers That Be had concocted their scheme in absolute secret. Soon came the rage, the rallies, and an impressive attempt to save the school. But, no.

There are always more tears, I’ve been told. Some soon-to-be unemployeds are rightfully fretful. And some stakeholders are still raw with anger. But that’s not what I saw in my classroom today.

Students grinned, jotted me thank you notes, shook my hand, and told me to stay in touch. When I asked them about their plans for the summer, talents, and future education, each one offered a confident answer. They took their last test with focus and ease, and nary a hint of cheating. They posed for pictures in the hallway and lingered as if fully mindful that this is the final finals—that they are living history.

Indeed, it’s been like watching a surreal movie, I’ve been saying since the first scene—in which the faculty meeting that normally kicks off the semester morphed into a tense presentation by strangers in suits about “fiscal failure,” a “teachout” with a competing arts school, and “winding down assets.”

But it’s not a movie; you can’t make this stuff up. It just happens. Fortunately, there is no end to this story.

• To be continued…

That’s why the seniors chose for their theme, “To be continued…”  The senior gallery exhibit holds that title; ellipses in the school-color red are all over t-shirts, stickers, and FaceBook. Now that (pardon the pun) is classy!

I’m not here to teach,” I always say on the first day of class, “I’m here to learn.”

To the students and many good people who sustained 89 years of success at CVA: Thanks for all you taught me. And Godspeed.
Now carry on…