It’s summer, and it’s time for vacation. I am trying to enjoy my favorite time of vacation—the anticipation of it, not necessarily the execution of it. I can see that many of you are shaking your heads and saying, “What the hell did he just say?”
Who doesn’t get excited about going on vacation? When I was young, our family went to the same lake every summer, and I started looking forward to our next visit the day we left for home from the current year’s vacation. I would start making a list of what I needed for the next visit based on what I had just experienced. I wanted to be prepared. Each year, there was something I forgot and I made sure it was there the next. After a few years, my list was out of control and it eventually looked like a Sunday newspaper. Does anyone remember when we got a fifty pound newspaper every Sunday? Great if you were into paper máché.
The location we went to every year was my “nirvana,” (No, I’m not into eastern religions or Seattle grunge bands). I can’t think of a place that I would rather be. I have had the opportunity to visit many places in this world, but my family’s traditional vacation spot is still my favorite. There was a time when I wanted to buy a cabin on this lake and eventually retire there for the summer…that is. I’m not an idiot. This place gets six feet of snow every winter and temperatures that could chill the heart of Satan himself. No problem. I would spend my winters at my beautiful California home, playing golf and softball, then leave when the temperatures got hot enough to toast bread without a toaster. A man can dream.
I am in the final stages of preparing for our annual adventure back to my favorite lake. I put my name on the list for this year, as I was leaving last year. In January, I sent in my deposit to hold our cabin, and I started making reservations in February. Thank goodness. My youngest son just decided to join us, and his flight will cost more than double what I reserved for mine. Thank goodness he’s paying his own way.
I have been making a list of what I need to take. I am standing, staring at the two bags we have to pack all this stuff into, and I don’t think it will fit. We leave in two days, so it’s time to start putting all my clothes on over every other piece I bring. If a flight attendant asks why I’m so beefy, I’ll just say that I’ve been working out in case I need to duct tape a rowdy passenger to their seat. I always have a roll in my carry-on.
In the last few years, it has become easier. My son, who lives in the Midwest, has been coming up to the lake, pulling his boat for our use. At the end of each year, whatever doesn’t fit in the suitcase gets tossed in his boat while I say, “Don’t forget to bring it back next year.”
He may have to upgrade to a tractor-trailer rig. Where does all this extra stuff come from each year? I know. It’s all the Lake Michigan T-shirts I buy. How many “Lake Michigan, Salt and Shark Free” t-shirts does one man need? Apparently, there are more since I keep buying them. At least I change the color of the shirt.
My vacation is always spectacular until the day I leave for it. The build-up to our trip is always better than getting to the airport, dragging luggage, standing in the TSA line, getting a rent-a-car, checking into hotels, and getting to our cabin while being dive-bombed by swarms of mosquitoes. While we are at the lake, we have to deal with the fish not biting, sand in everything, buying souvenirs that are not really needed (and just plain stupid), storms rolling in on the day you had a big day planned for the beach and the multitude of other vacationers congregating where ever you wanted to go.
While going on vacation is a hassle, it is also fun. I am where I want to be. It is beautiful and, at times, relaxing—nothing like sitting in a lawn chair and enjoying the cooling breeze blowing in off the lake. The air is so clean and fresh; I sleep much better at the lake. Another great thing about the area we visit is all the ice cream parlors all over the place. I go from parlor to parlor, trying to determine which makes the best chocolate malted milkshake.
Quit smirking; it’s essential to research for an article I may or may not be writing. That’s what journalists do.
When I used to go on vacation, I counted down the days until I had to go back to work and stressed out as a result. Now that I’m retired, that pressure is gone. Yes, I have to leave, but there are plenty of other places I can visit, and the boss is not wondering if I’m really sick on the first day I’m supposed to be back at work.
I need to get back to packing. My wife has just revealed what shoes she wants to bring, and I need to see if I can charter a railroad car to transport them back to our location.
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