Wednesday, August 24, 2011

I can’t see that from over here

My right elbow is still a bit sore from unloading my own hellish version of the family truckster. Our all wheel drive vehicle had been piled to capacity with beach chairs, umbrellas, boogie boards, coolers, shovels, golf clubs, clothing, wind chimes, assorted crafts and 3 bicycles. Riding along with me was fair lady and budding son. We had been vacationing for 10 days along with my sister-in-law, her husband, their three children and an equally maxed out family fun vehicle.

A few days into the vacation I was feeling a bit guilty for taking more than a week away from work. Rarely do I think along those lines as I am confident that in my final hours I will likely reflect more on interpersonal times of leisure than career milestones. Perhaps I was temporarily influenced by some local papers and their coverage of President Obama’s vacation, which was just a ferry ride away from our cottage. Many Americans feel that the Obama’s should not be vacationing while the economy is in such bad shape.

Luckily the regret was fleeting and I spent most of my time walking in flip flops. When I slide my feet into other choices, golf shoes, running sneakers or bike pedals were the alternates. When not eating a lobster roll on the beach, our meals were either proceeded by or followed by admission to one of the ubiquitous miniature golf courses that prosper on Cape Cod. Sometimes we substituted the activity for an appetizer or dessert. Other times we just inserted it in before the hors d'oeuvres or after a late ice cream stop. My eight year old fell in love with that life. He was all hopped up on artificial turf and a salt water breeze. I lost some enthusiasm for the redundancy of the mini-golf after the second round. Instead I fell in love with the endless delight of a soon to be third grader for hitting under the bunny, around the pig, clanging the metal pail at the wishing well, holing the pirate’s plank and banking a shot off the treasure chest.

If polled I would certainly cast my vote for vacations in both good times and bad. And with the full knowledge that as sure as I replied to some e-mails and called on some business propositions, the president is never really not working. It’s just an illusion. It’s one of life’s false impressions that can only be seen from specific angles.

My son reminded me of that when he gleefully popped out of our all everything vehicle late one night when we chose the after dessert option. ‘Dad, come look, come look’, he happily insisted. I wondered and asked, ‘what is it Bud? ‘Look at all the stars up there’, as he pointed toward a spectacularly bright celestial show. Contrasting his experience of how living among the bright lights of New York dims out the heavenly night above, he was learning something new.

He was learning that our views of the world and that of reality can easily be worlds apart, as predicated by where we stand.

© 2011 Christopher’s Views