Saturday, June 28, 2008

#14 Vacation-Shmacation

Just returned from a couple of days at the beach. Had an unqualified great time. Couldn't wait to get back home the minute I got there. How do we account for--be honest; you've had them--these seemingly contradictory yet equally satisfying emotions? It's a strange kind of love-love ambivalence. Even when you're thinking of EXTENDING YOUR STAY a little longer, you're thinking of how nice homecoming will be. Here's one answer: GUILT, or at least the expiation thereof. You never really wanted to leave your cozy confines in the first place, but there is a kind of socially- induced pressure to WANT to "take a little time off," shake off the quotidian, get free of the hum-drum work-a-day, home-a-day world of the ordinary, in order to be perceived as a good and normal person. You'd have to be a little bit off-center not to want to "get away" for at least a liittle while from all that stuff.

But wait--I LOVE all that stuff! That's where the good living is, in the Sublime Mundane. (More about that and Ted Baxter in a later post.) Not to mention the violent inconveniences inherent (fill in the blanks) in the vacation adventure--nonetheless you feel good after fulfilling your obligation, and can now go home. Here's a little real-life manifestation in actual dialogue of this syndrome, involving my Significant Other: Me--"Well, you DID get a bit sun-burned, in spite of the Panama Jack." She--"Yeah, that's the point. I wanted them to SEE that I'd been here." Q.E.D.

But let me go off tangentially here: Why couldn't the techno-inventor boys come up with the concept of "skim-boarding" when I was kid-enough to enjoy it? All it involves is a 2-foot-flat- wooden oblong and a less-than-a-hundred-pound person. And what homemade fun it is! I asked the kid, "Kid, whaddya call that (hand-body gestures)"? "Skim-boarding--and you can get one at Wings for 15 dollars." "Son, you're a sports hero in the making." Here's how the little 10-year-old virtuoso did his thing: he waits gull-eyed for for just the right wave to come up and STOP, just before it ebbs down the shingle (this is, of course, the perfect opposite of surf-boarding). Then he throws the board down and outward onto the 2-3 inch deep receding surf, catches up to the board (a-skimming already), jumps on, and glides laterally down the beach 30 to 50 feet ending in a glorious sand-scrunching dismount (for a variation, his sister would glide perpendicularly TOWARD the NEXT wave, affording her a little slalom-jump effect when she got to it). Now, I could have USED that thing on the shores of Lake Michigan, a bike-ride from where I grew up (after transplantation from the South)--the wave-action being just right for this sort of kiddie-thrill-sport. Alas, too late. Another youthful opportunity missed. But not the only one.


Blibdrew said...

What's up with negatives about the beach?!?
No phone no wories.

Dr. J.D. said...

"WoRRy about your spelling!

jdmiii said...

what, me worie?