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Monday, June 8, 2020

Summer Vacation

As a child growing up in Klamath Falls, Oregon--a mid-sized town with an altitude close to a mile above sea level, summer meant the blessed end of a long winter. And the sunny season seemed to arrive overnight. If our town experienced spring at all, it was usually threatened by sporadic below-freezing temperatures that shriveled the lilacs and made growing tomatoes nearly impossible.

Summer always seemed to break free shortly after Memorial Day. That was when the school year ended, too, and though I enjoyed going to school more than many of my classmates, I looked forward to playing softball, tennis, or kick the can with friends. Plus summer meant Girl Scout Camp and my family's annual trip to Washington state to visit relatives. Three short, busy months later, I was back in school and Jack Frost was nipping noses and painting treetops.

After graduating from the University of Oregon, I taught high school in the same building where I had attended classes four years earlier. As a teacher, I looked forward to summer vacation even more than I did as a child. Not only was it a break from preparing lessons and grading papers, I could empty my bladder when it was full rather than ready to pop. I took a few continuing education classes, and then spent the rest of the season lying in the sun in my back yards or on the shores of several nearby lakes. Sometimes I traveled to San Francisco or Reno.

I taught school for eight years before entering the private sector where, for the first time in my life, I no longer had the whole summer off. Summers in a nine-to-five working environment meant squeezing sun-related activities and short trips into weekends. Vacations at every company I worked for had to be scheduled, and employees with the most seniority got to choose first. As a newbie, which I was quite a few times due to my habit of job-hopping, I  received two weeks for the first five years of employment, three weeks for the next five. I earned three weeks at three companies but never more than that.

In 2007 I retired to what some people think of as a permanent vacation. During my forty years of employment I wrote business letters, proposals, instructions, etc. but never felt confident enough about my writing ability to make it my profession. I looked at retirement as an opportunity to try my wings at creative writing, and since retiring I have published two novels and numerous short stories, essays and poems. No money to speak of, just a whole lot of satisfaction.

My attitude toward summer changed again when my passion for writing was repeatedly interrupted by yard work, house maintenance projects, out-of-town guests and family gatherings. I appreciated the warmth and sunshine, yet missed sitting at my computer in the peace and quiet of winter. Over time I turned into the rare person (other than a rabid skier or snowboarder) who couldn't wait for the days to grow shorter.

This year when summer rolled around, I realized that dreading the season was like wishing my life away. I was causing myself a great deal of stress, sometimes my loved ones, too, when I insisted on squeezing my writing between summer activities. I decided other than writing blog posts and editing existing work, I am going to enjoy this summer. Now, when people ask me what I'm writing, I'm happy to tell them, "Nothing, I'm on vacation."







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