"Twenty years from now, you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the ones you did. So, throw off the bowlines, sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover." --Mark Twain
It’s a little thing, a trifling personal loss, compared to all the big losses folks have had to deal with during life in COVID times. Yet it is something I’ve missed so much, a ritual that signals to me summer is here and I am about to depart. Leave. Vamoose. Exit. Vacation. Travel. Yes, travel again! Leave the confines of my Zoom laden dining room table and my 24/7 home and my little town and state and go somewhere farther away than the Massachusetts border.
The travel ritual I am so happy to practice again? Planning. Preparing. Packing. PPP for short.
I told you it was a small tradition but oh my goodness: what a joy it is to do something I once so easily took for granted. Planning: and so I book a plane flight and pick out my seat. Always by a window so I can see how high up in the friendly skies I am and how fast we are jetting over this beautiful country. Once again I can examine a map of my destination and dream about the explorations that lie ahead for me in my rental car. Discovering small town Main Streets and off the beaten track antique stores and hidden away book nooks. Tracking down a place that still sells postcards and then writing about my adventures to a loved one and then stamping it and then mailing it at a tiny little post office.
I put “baseball game” near the top of my summer 2021 vacation planning to-do list. Last summer was the first since my age was a single digit that I did not attend the sandlot. This summer I will track down a game—ANY GAME! Major league, minor league, it does not matter. I need to sit in the stands on a balmy summer night, surrounded by the chatter of fans and listen to crack of a bat on a ball and watch the sun go down and the lights come up. I need to eat many a mustard and onion bedecked hot dog. I am so excited to watch my 12-year-old Goddaughter BJ play on her travel team. Cheer with pride as she scoops up a foul ball while catching or gives a mighty swing in the batter’s box. To watch her play is the best game I could ever, EVER, attend. I’ve missed this simple pleasure for two years now. But no longer.
Then there is the preparing for a trip.
Stop the Sunday newspaper and mail. Find someone to water the plants and watch my house. My go too good friend for this chore passed away recently. It’s bittersweet to imagine someone else doing this for me. Then there is trying my best to tie up all the loose ends at work, so that when I leave and when I am gone, I will be really gone. No emails to open. No calls to answer. After almost sixteen months of unrelenting work and scrambling to adapt and learn new skills and work with the dedicated folks I serve to carry on for God and with God, I am exhausted, like so many folks are right now. Life put the pedal to the metal in March 2020 and is now finally easing up. Whew! It’s time to go. GO! To enjoy a change of scenery and put away the calendar and the work list. Maybe even turn off the phone.
Finally, there is the packing.
As a travel nerd I always make a detailed list. I’m as exacting and fastidious as a traveler can be, and so I list out every single item to be packed…socks and shorts and computer (don’t forget the power cord!) and extra pencils and a pencil sharpener for writing then I print out two copies of my boarding pass and car rental info and then I pack it all and then I recheck the list one last time. This year I’m even bringing a copy of my COVID vaccination record. Can’t be too careful! Told you I was persnickety when it comes the art of packing.
One of my favorite invitations spoken by Jesus is this: “Come unto me all ye who are weary and I will give you rest.” I am weary. I do need a rest. We all do as shell shocked COVID folk. I wonder if Jesus ever took a vacation. If Moses booked an Airbnb before setting out for the promised land or if Abraham and Sarah had a favorite cabin getaway on the shores of the Mediterranean. Something tells me that the wisdom of taking time off from daily life and work and retreating to a place of rest, is as old as humankind itself.
And so, I am getting away in this summer of return and freedom. I hope you do too. Maybe we’ll see each other on the road. I’ll be the guy wearing a Boston Red Sox cap and a grin a mile wide.
Happy trails.
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