Downtowns are supposed to be places where we can walk, gawk and escape our routine.  Make some celebration.  Stumble on an odd adventure.  And feel the beat of the streets.  When traveling—whether to New York or to Tokyo—who doesn’t wander, eyes agog, to take it all in?

• Diversity ≠ danger

I took this picture in the spring of 1981.  After an all-night Greyhound ride from Chicago, I awoke in Minneapolis and took my first stroll down notorious Block E.  The Prudes That Be said it was squalid and scary—and thus eventually tore everything down to erect a mall that has failed.

To me, Block E buzzed with verve and authenticity; even the signage sings, if at times a raunchy tune.  So I hung out there now and then.  After attending Game 7 of the 1987 World Series, I ended up in Moby Dick’s and witnessed astonishing elation and conviviality.

• Now the Hard Rock crumbles…

23 years later, the soul-less, mammoth mall that replaced Moby’s and all the rest is now nearly empty.  Hard Rock will close by the end of the month.  Generic chain joints like Applebee’s, Hooters, GameWorks, and Panchero’s are already gone.

Perhaps the saddest twist of fate is this:  The new owners who bought the building have big plans of tearing this iteration down to erect a $200 million casino and hotel.

If this is progress, call me old-school.  Like dog poop that you step in and then spread it all over, the porn and strip joints they shut down have simply moved a few blocks to other locations; at least they used to be mostly on one block (which anyone could avoid and where cops and bouncers were abundant).

You could get “a whale of a drink” at Moby’s and get a dang-good-and-cheap “filet de boeuf” at 2 AM at Best Steak House.  If the new owners get their way, you can feed your gambling addiction and their pockets instead.

• Pictures preserve memories, if nothing else

Like all good career break and travel advocates, I’m also an unprofessional photographer.  Today’s news reminds me why.  There’s nothing fancy about this image.  Yet it becomes more precious as the years pass—both because it rouses inimitable memories, and because it preserves a vanished scene.

Throughout the Middle East, nations roil like boats lost at sea while trying to figure out this thing called democracy.  They look to a beacon called USA for guidance, while simultaneously dissing our unsavory ways.  Tunisia offers an illuminating path for us, though, as thousands of youth there embark on a “patriotic year.”  

I heard this story on All Things Considered and found it quite inspiring; you can read the article here, or listen, if you are so inclined…

• Protecting the…revolution                       

Demonstrations broken up by tear-gas, daily.  70 new political parties.  Countless citizen organizations.  A regime that’s ousted yet threatens to force their way back into power.  Sounds like just another day on Santa Monica Boulevard—NOT. 

We’ve much to learn from our faraway compatriots.  Here, we host two political parties that share only one love in common:  A love for gridlock.  Seems many American lives are lost in gridlock too, while a brave few dream of a debt-free life and something like a Gap Year. yet stay stuck in their swamp.

• Imagine passionate patriotism in America

What might happen if a wave of American youth dedicated a year to improving our deteriorating land and demanding results from our government?  We could use that kind of grass-roots, kick-butt patriotism around here—not just the flag-in-the-lapel kind. 

Oh sure, it might get in the way of Facebook and Modern Warfare 2.  But imagine how savvy and mighty our society might be if we could recapture the passion, like our friends in Tunisia.

Isn’t the internet great?  Sometimes yes, sometimes not so much—like when you need serious assistance.  In the past week, I’ve gotten trapped in enough online snares to miss the good old days of Ma Bell Hell.  Here are just a few of these head-banging incidents…

Gift card / sports store. One offspring gets a gift card, so we go to the store.  As these things go, we find $200 worth of stuff though the card value is only $100…

Them: After ringing us up, the checker says, “Oh, this is an online gift card.  We don’t accept those in the store.”

Us:  “Hmmm, is there anyway around this?  We only came in bacause of the gift card.”

Them:  “No, but you can put back all your merchandise and then go buy it online, if it’s there…”

Autopay form / department store credit card. Autopay is a win-win-win, right?  It makes life better for the store, the customer, and the environment.  So when the online sign-up failed to function, I called the store…

Us (after a long, long wait and punching many digits—which eventually needed to be repeated to a Human):  “Hi.  I’m unable to complete the autopay form online, so you could mail me one?”

Them:  “Actually, for your convenience, you can just print it from our website.”

Me:  “Okay, but I’m not at my computer now, and my my printer needs ink.  So could you kindly just mail it me?  I’ll take it from there…”

Them:  “Actually, we don’t mail that form.  What number may I fax it to?”

Me:  “Actually, my fax isn’t hooked up and I’m not at the office.  Can’t you please just mail me one?  Or ask someone who can?”

Them:  “Well, we don’t do that, but let me talk to my supervisor.”

L o n g                              w a i t

Them:  “Okay, just this once, my boss said we can mail you one.  It might take a few weeks tough.  How else may I help you today?”

Vendor recommendation / municipality. The gardening to-do list takes a break during winter, yet dormant plants and a blanket of snow make it the ideal time to take down a dead, old ash.  My municipality prefers that you use vendors that have a proper local license, so I try to comply.  When my usual cutter does not appear on the online list, I call in…

Me:  “Hi.  I’m wondering if you can tell me if a tree service is still licensed and recommended by my fine city.”

Them:  “Great!  But actually, you can just find that information online.”

Me:  “Yes, I’m on that page right now, but my vendor is gone.”

Them:  “Oh.  Well, we may be behind on keeping that list current.”

Me:  “Great!  So tell me, should Grizzly’s Tree Care be there?  They always were in the past…”

Them:  “Hmmm, let’s see.  Ya, sure.  They’re current on the license and everything.  Go ahead and use them; they do good work.”

Us:  “Yes, I agree.  Nice to know someone does.  Thanks for your ‘help’”.

Having just returned from a BreakAway in Mazatlan, I’m temporarily smitten by the notion that, in some places, real people still offer unplugged service—and don’t just bat you back to your cold, lonely screen.  Because they probably don’t even have one.  Because they value things like human contact, attention, and having a job.

Thanks for listening.  I have to go now—to pay a bill online, renew an Apple service online, and resolve a payroll discrepency online.

Wish me luck.

Christmas has come and gone.  Again.

Beautiful; we still take a few days to BreakAway from our jobs, routines, and rat race.  With any luck, we even reflect, rest, and renew old ties.

But the party is far from over.  Now comes the clean-up, the bills, the weight-loss angst, and the withdrawal from holiday hype.

• What happened?

What’s happened to this sacred season, anyway?  What’s happened to our culture?  I mean, in an era of unemployment, austerity, and alleged rethinking of values, the season’s headlines obsess about retail sales.  It would appear that Christmas has become Growth Engine #1—and I’m not talking spiritual growth.

Meanwhile, I can’t remember the last time a Christmas carol lilted through a public school.  The radio and mall soundtrack is all “Here Comes Santa Claus” and “Let it Snow.”  The Christian denominations are losing souls and houses of worship as fast as other religions are gaining them.

• Where the GAINS are

Oh sure, you can find a few expanding strains of Christianity.  And they are likely to be heavily political and opinionated (in ways that may not agree with the Beatitudes).  Or they preach the poppy ME message of Prosperity Theology: “Make Me Rich.”  As uber-triumphant (and uber-rich) Reverend Joel Osteen puts it:

God has said that he will open the windows of heaven and pour such blessing that you will not be able to contain it!”

Oh well, people are just trying to be happy, right?  And when that’s the goal, it may be better to receive than to give.  Better to focus on a personal path than consider sacrifice for world needs or relationship growth.

But the truth (if there is one) of “happiness” may hide in big-hearted, old-school stories like Christmas, not just new-age websites, shopping malls, and self-help shelves.

Search “self help books” on Google and get 191,000,000 links to explore.  Search “self help” on Amazon and ponder 155,000 “results.”  The first “result” is a book with a title that starts, “When Am I Going to Be Happy?…”

Well, “happy” may be a simplistic, self-absorbed pursuit, anyway.  Jesus never promised happiness.  That’s just what we now ask of Christmas, spirituality, and so many things.  And of course, successful living in these times is all about the asking, not so much the sharing.

Was there ever a day when Christmass meant more than merriment, Macys, and money?

I believe.

The AP reports that “the squeeze with the sneeze” has gotten so bad that more that more than half of U.S. workers get regular calls from their employers when they’re not supposed to be working—including when taking a sick day.   That is SO sick. 

Meanwhile, the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics reports that 39% of private sector employees get no sick time at all. 

Is this any way to build loyalty and create leadership?  Heck, no.  Rather, such lack of respect and compassion brings out the beast in people—and smashes any aspirations for future hope and leadership, as another recent survey finds.

• 24% of people being asked to take on new challenges are more excited to get to work
• 62% of workers have no desire to assume a leadership role

These stats are outrageous and paint an ugly picture for the future.  We should all be fuming.  But work is sucking our collective energy and creativity away.  So who has time to fight (much less fantasize about Sabbaticals)?  People are tired, poor, and yearning to be free. 

A few folks are questioning these disturbing trends, though, including the Families and Work Institute.  Their president, Ellen Galinsky, smartly sums up work thusly:  

Work is a marathon.  We keep running harder and faster.  What we know now from research is that work is really much more like interval training.  You need time for reset and recovery.” 

Well put, Ellen.  Breakaways for all!

What do your Christmas memories look like? With any luck, you see some heartfelt, colorful scenes of gathering, feasting, singing, baking, decorating, giving, gratitude and more. Let’s hope those traditions live on—whatever your beliefs. And that the holidays bring a BreakAway from cold monotony and a time for connection and reflection. 

Be careful, however, when you leave the house or turn on the media.  Out there, the “holiday spending season” has morphed into the biggest capitalism train wreck ever—a sad, sickening farce devoid of spirituality, generosity and gentleness.

Consider…

• “Black Friday” has become responsible keeping our consumer-centric economy—and country—fiscally afloat. 
• Shopping numbers move newscasts and stocks like news of war. 
• Stores open as early as 3 a.m. the day after Thanksgiving.
• Shoppers line up hours before then, even in rain, snow and gloom of night.
• Violence happens routinely as crazed shoppers fight over bargains. 
• A debt-riddled society dives deeper into arrears, only to bestow stuff others may not want. 
• The materialism and waste piles up and the real messages get watered down, if not drowned. 

If Jesus were to visit, he’d probably weep. After all, the Bible says “The meek shall inherit the earth,” whereas in modern Christmas the earth is inheriting a greedy mess.

It’s not all one big Bah Humbugapalooza, however. No doubt individuals and groups all over the world still find significance in the holidays—and folks are fighting back against the meaningless money-fication of a holy season.

Just one such sign: More than 1,500 churches worldwide are participating in a program called “The Advent Conspiracy:”

An international movement restoring the scandal of Christmas by substituting compassion for consumption.” 

There’s also a book.  It dares to guide people to give presence, not presents—from the heart, not Wal-Mart. 

So while there’s reason to rant about the roadkill that Christmas is in danger of becoming, there is also—and is this not the main message of sacred holidays?—hope. 

Keep the faith!

So many celebrities, they never take the time off.  I’ve never taken the time off to really — you know, just music after music and tour after tour. I’m just ashamed that my hurt caused someone else’s hurt. My dream of what awards shows are supposed to be, ’cause, and I don’t try to justify it because I was just in the wrong. That’s period. But I need to, after this, take some time off and just analyze how I’m going to make it through the rest of this life, how I’m going to improve.”

Yuck.  While some of us rant about taking sabbaticals, the average American Joe doesn’t even get vacation or sick time.  It’s bleak.  And the stats are humbling.  3 months off?  Some folks pine for 3 days. 

Read and weep:  The average PTO time in the U.S.A. is 14 days.  Brits get 24.  Meanwhile, French folks enjoy an average of 39—ooh la la!  As Seattle blogger Lucy Miller put it, “America needs to take a vacation.”  

Years ago, Congress passed the Family Medical and Leave Act, though it still apples to only about half the workforce.  Now they’re considering the Healthy Families Act, which mandates minimal (and modest) vacation and sick time.  Hey—it’s only 100 years late, but let’s do it! 

IF IF IF the bill passes, optimists claim it would be a boon for the travel industry, while also lessening stress and burnout expenses. 

• Stress and burnout—killers of morale, health, and profit. 
• Vacation and travel—rewards for a job well done. 

Canada and most of Europe take pride in awarding employees with free time.  Even China mandates three weeks of vacation. But the sad fact is, many Americans still work for low pay, get scant benefits, and often no vacation or sick days off.  If you need more fodder for your frustration, check out this insightful (if depressing) commentary by Marshall H. Tannick.  Then count your blessings for what benefits and freedoms you DO possess.

How much do people cling to their jobs (that they often say they don’t like)?  So much so that three out of four will go there when they feel sick.  Call me crazy; call me foolish:  But that’s just wrong.  Have we no respect for the health of our friends and colleagues? 

That finding pales in comparison to what execs believe:  Only 17% think their workers show up ill.  Gross. 

A guy could rant on and on about this dizzying info.  But for better or worse, I’m suddenly feeling too nauseous! 

75  Percent of professionals who say they very frequently or somewhat frequently go to work when they feel sick.

17  When executives were asked how often they think empoloyees come to work when they feel sick, percentage who said very frequently.   

“Island time” works well for, well, not working. Not living off deadlines. Not getting anywhere by any particular time or worrying about much. But “island time” fails miserably when trying to catch ferries and make airplane connections. 

The ferry floats away from saintly St. John.

The good news is we made it off St. John and on to St. Thomas.  Then Anguilla.  Then Antigua.  And eventually to our destination, the island of St. Vincent.  And it is breathtakingly beautiful.  Worth the hassle?  Of course (but that’s easy to say now).  The bad news is the day was, as expected, an endurance test, only worse. 

"Island time" and flying skeds don't mix well.

“Island time” was taken to new levels, and I don’t mean 20,000 feet in the air.  I mean:  Refusing to let planes land.  Stranding people in airports.  Canceling flights.  Holding passengers hostage and inventing a form of “island torture.”  They call it a “soft strike.” 

It comes courtesy of the air traffic controllers on the island of Antigua, a hub for Liat island-hopping airlines.  Seems the Controllers want more money, or something, and the government won’t pony up.  So…they create chaos out of flying (which is already chaotic down here) and make everybody really, really mad (in all senses of the word). 

We’d already received angry and defensive e-mails from the airline.  Every cabbie or airport employee was talking about it—or refusing to.  And frankly, there probably hasn’t been this much drama down here (other than hurricanes) since Reagan and Troops invaded Grenada 20 years ago. 

As for me, I got scolded by a flight attendant and frightfully threatened by a security officer (who was about twice my size).  A Gamegirl was stolen from right under my nose.  And I witnessed unprecedented airport panic and paranoia.  And that’s saying something, since air travel has been increasingly unpleasant since 9-11, if not before. 

In the Antigua airport, most chairs were taken.  Most garbage cans were boiling over.  And the food stand was down to hot dogs and warm beer.  At one point, I stared at an (empty!) garbage can for an hour or more, convinced that this was the appropriate mediation focus for the day. 

Stranded. I meditated on this trash can.

A TV preacher barked in a Patois growl while a nearby CD stand played short samples of reggae, Jamaican toasting, and soca at full volume.  At one point, I thought I would scream.  But instead, I must have zoned out, because that’s when the new pink GameGirl (a necessary drug for CurlyGirl on a day like this) was pilfered.  Disappeared like magic.  

We got lucky.  Our plane flew.  We got out of there, and onto St. Vincent only a few long hours late.  Needless to say, we went out for a celebratory dinner and stayed up way too late.  When getting there is not half the fun, getting there feels twice as good. 

• On St. Vincent, “island time” is alive and well.  And suddenly, slowing down to soak it all in is a euphoric experience.