I’ve never been good at vacationing. I can only really remember one planned family pause as a kid. I think it was to Charlevoix, MI or Sandusky, OH. The five of us, drove for what seemed like forever in our two-toned blue, 1952 Chevy and stayed all together in a little cabin and…that’s all I remember. In my early 20s, (that would have been the 20th century’s mid 60s), my architectural study semester in Rome awoke my dormant, hitchhiking, vagabond, hippie nature and I just took off, hither and yon, including a long, very, very long unintentional and geographically naïve walkabout from Istanbul to Barcelona…vacation? As an adult, trips that might fit the popular definition were, for the most part, family visits or extensions of work-related travel. Oh…there was Maui and weekend golf getaways after I discovered that stupidly addictive game in my fifties. Those must be vacations, right? I guess what I’m trying to say is, that I I’m one of the lucky ones who likes, (appreciates), my day-to-day and that those days off, the getaways with all that angsty planning, prepping and transporting, hardly ever cross my mind. Not to imply that I don’t like exploring, nor do I take for granted that I have been privileged by my vocation to have experienced the culture and the beauty of hundreds of places on six of the seven continents, but the process of browsing and reserving, packing, schlepping, Ubering and praying, non-denominationally, for appropriate weather, fills me with dread. Or…should I say “filled”? Having seemingly survived COVID, the enormity of the isolation and freedom deprivation suddenly hit me. I became aware, like coming pantingly awake from a horrible nightmare, that I had become resolute and accepting of the systemic change in future leisure activity. Will restaurant dining, flying, movies, concerts, sporting events always seem scary? We need more than carry out and streaming to nourish our souls. So, I clicked and searched and found a funky room on the water, (literally, on the water), in Rocky Neck, MA, got some tutoring in how to plan a 450-mile roundtrip drive in my 250-mile fully charged EV, decided not to give a crap about the weather, did some deep, deep breathing, grabbed the Mrs. and hit the road. It was perfect. Holy crap…I’m a vacationer!