Back to the back-to-school rhythm

Oh, how quickly the summer vibe goes away. That easy-going, relaxed, smooth as a new car’s coat of paint feeling that the mornings had.

“Had,” as in past tense. What your life used to be. Calm. Peaceful. Tranquil. People rising slowly. Birds singing sweetly in the trees. A kitchen all to myself in the morning and no one with anyplace to go, and no hurry to get there.

When you are the only one working during the summer, mornings are absolute bliss. My wife is a pre-school teacher, and my 16-year-old daughter’s only summer responsibility was to see if watching too many shows on Netflix could make her TV to burst into flames.

Nobody got up before 7. Sometimes 8. Who am I kidding? There were days when I didn’t see a soul before heading off to work. This meant I “had” run of the house. Run of the kitchen. Run of the vibe. All the bird singing to myself.

Had!

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Goodbye to the high-tech of yesteryear

“Oh no!” my wife said. “The CD player on my boom box is broken. What am I going to do?”

If there was ever a more dated thing to say, it was this. Why not just mention the 8-track player in your 1978 Gremlin was acting up again? Or the VHF stations weren’t coming in clear on your rabbit-ear Magnavox?

You do know what a boom box is, don’t you? A box that brings the boom. It wasn’t that long ago we actually used these. It was a big black or silver box with a CD player or terrestrial radio that would pump out music through two bass-heavy speakers the size of tractor tires.

Total weight: Kansas!

Cheaply made in recent years, they’re only built to last about as long as you can hold your breath. But when you need one, you need one. Like my wife, a pre-school teacher gearing up for the start of the school year. A fair amount of what she does revolves around simpler technology like pencils and tape and songs about dancing hamsters learning the alphabet.

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The great mystical quest for the license of drivers

They call it a driver’s license. With this license, you are legally allowed to drive. It does not specify in the rules where you can drive. You can drive wherever you want. To the store. To Alaska. Running guns to rebels in Central America. They leave that up to you. The license gives you the freedom to move, as long as you have an instrument of movement. A vehicle.

To get this license, you must first take a test. This test will quiz you on all the keys to successful driving. It is like a mythical quest. It might be the toughest, most demanding, most psychologically grueling thing you ever do. Well, after childbirth, your first day of kindergarten, the SATs, the time you got caught with a cigarette and that time you fit the giant jawbreaker into your mouth and had to go to the ER so they could remove it with surgical tongs.

To pass this test, you must show a mastery of driving, including how to park on an incline. Forget that this seems kind of absurd because you live in a flat state where there hasn’t been an incline since 1952. That’s when someone decided to build a hill. Everyone’s ears popped from the elevation and they bulldozed it the next day. It’s been flat ever since.

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Gettin’ all veggie with it

“You’re just going to sit there and eat that steak in front of me?” my daughter asked across the table of the little bistro in Paris.

“Oh yeah,” I said. “I definitely am. And I’m not even going to pretend it’s not delicious. Because it IS delicious. I mean … Béarnaise sauce on a steak? Talk about decadent!”

“You know that poor cow had a life before someone came along and slaughtered her, right?” she said.

“Yes, I do know that,” I replied. “And by the taste, I would say she lived a rather good one.”

My daughter grumbled at me and glared.

It had been one of my few forays into the world of red meat in over a year. I can count on one hand the number of times beef had gone down my gullet. Two burgers, a burrito, a meatball calzone and some unidentifiable substance on a sandwich in New York that may have contained meat by-product.

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Dealing with the post-trip readjustment blues

Commencing post-trip re-adjustment phase. Re-acclimation in T-minus 10 minutes. Must clean house. Must get back on a schedule. Must remember that to make money, you can’t sit around in a café all day drinking espresso.

Damn you, real life!

It’s been about a week since our little family returned from our two-week journey to Europe. So amazing! We survived canceled flights, crazy airports, Dutch taxis, Dutch bikes, the French language, jet lag and maybe the toughest of all, the line to get a photo with the Mona Lisa.

But as with all great trips, they eventually come to an end and you return home. To real life and the world you left behind. Where there are routines to remember and houses to clean. Clothes to unpack and a host of other things that make you wonder, “Why did we ever come back? Why didn’t we just join a circus troupe and live the rest of our lives as traveling carnies?!?”

I’m certain I could be successful as an artisan cotton candy maker.

Anyway, it’s over and we’re all home trying to get back into the swing of things.

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Dispatch from abroad: A European summer excursion

London. Paris. Amsterdam. A two-week adventure. Shows on the West end. Wandering the winding roads of bohemian Montmartre. Boating on the canals. And stroopwafels! Still journeying. Still exploring. So here are some random thoughts on my family’s summer adventure abroad.

• In Amsterdam, death by bicycle is a real thing. You may have heard that the Dutch love their bikes. What you may not know is that there are more than 800,000 bikes in the city and a population of only about 700,000. What this means is that 100,000 of those bikes are out there riding themselves. No human operators! Which is why you have to be so careful. Everywhere you go there are bikes. Zipping along the bike lanes like cruise missiles. We hide in the bushes watching for them. When we see the coast is clear, we dart across the road and dive into another bush. You never know when an un-piloted bike might be coming for you.

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Summer trip packing like a pro

This summer could see travel return to pre-pandemic levels as we Americans swarm out into the unknowns. We’re looking to rediscover the open roads, the open skies, the open cruise ships, and how to go viral by getting attacked while feeding a chipmunk in a national park.

This pent-up travel demand means a lot of people are out of practice, and might need some refreshers on how to make the most of their journeys, or even how to do them. Yes, you will need more than one peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a change of undergarments. Which brings me to today’s topic: Packing! It won’t be enough just to figure out how to out-navigate the hordes of zombie travelers. You also need to out-pack them. So, I’m here to offer friendly travel hacks from research I’ve done and experience I’ve gleaned during my own preparations:

• Be prepared: Amelia Earhart once said, “Preparation … is rightly two-thirds of any venture.” Unfortunately, she was lost over the Pacific shortly after, so maybe this was a bad quote to use. Instead, I will give you Abraham Lincoln: “Give me six hours to chop down a tree and I will spend the first four sharpening the axe.” This is much better. Except … who gives someone 6 hours to chop down a tree? And would it really take 4 hours to sharpen that axe? I could do that in 20 minutes. Anyway, the point is made. I would add to this that no matter how much you plan and prepare, you are still bound to forget your underwear or your wife’s suitcase because you thought it wise to sit down and watch a soccer game. Dummy!

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DNA, is this really my future?

There are times when your DNA is exposed for what it is: Your handed-down future. When you can see quite clearly where you came from, and where it’s taking you. Observe one generation and see where it will lead the next. Sometimes it’s in your looks. Or your shape and mannerisms. Sometimes it’s health. And sometimes it’s the dumb things you do. Or know you will do. Because it’s all in the DNA, and there’s no changing that.

It was Saturday when the texts between my brother and I started bouncing back and forth. My dad had taken a fall. He had nearly blacked out and toppled over at home. On his way down, he did some damage. Some pretty major damage. A broken nose. A gash across his brow requiring enough stitches that it brings automatic membership to the crew of pirates of his choice. Scrapes, bruises, cuts … and oh yeah, … a cracked vertebrae in his spine. His neck. The C2 vertebrae.

The C2!

OK, a little anatomy lesson here: The C2 is the second segment in your spine, just under your skull. It’s pretty important for support, head movement, and of course, protecting the spine. In particular, the C1 and C2 vertebrae do not take kindly to being knocked around. When you look up injuries to the C2, Web sites like to roll out big words like: severe, can lead to full paralysis, often fatal.

You can crack a lot of things in your body, but you would be wise to stay away from the C2.

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Tips for surviving the 2022 summer travel chaos

Maybe you’ve seen them: The horror stories about summer travel. Long, excruciating security lines at the airport – some stretching farther than your intended trip. Gas prices that will make even backing out of your driveway cost-prohibitive. Rising expenses on everything from hotels to the cost of trail mix. (Hey, you can’t have summer without trail mix!!!)

Well, there’s good news: You and 3 trillion other people will be exactly the same boat this summer. All jetting, driving or cruising off at the same time in search of tranquility and fun. Isn’t that a welcome comfort? And thanks to all of my studious research and expert advice, I have a few tips that are guaranteed to make your summer affordable and memorable. Or at least survivable.

• Gas prices: Griping about the high cost of gas will not accomplish anything. No, I mean I get it. It’s crazy high and completely outrageous. I feel your pain. But you need to redirect that anger and frustration into something more positive. For instance, instead of screaming, “I’m literally burning money!”, maybe instead make it a conversation starter with your family. Say to them, “Gee, did you realize we are literally burning the organic material that once thrived upon this planet millions of years ago? The money we’re wasting on this agonizing trip is actually historic, and kind of cool, right?” And if, by chance, you are spending $35,000 to drive somewhere to see the fossilized remains of dinosaurs, even more exciting! Your entire family will love it … as you go bankrupt.

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Taking driving directions from the king of the back-road long-cut

There are two ways to get anywhere: The first is by traveling from point A to point B in a straight line. This path is the fastest, most efficient and easiest on your patience. If given the choice, this is how most people travel.

The second is how my brother travels: I call it the route of the drunken badger. If drawn out on paper, it resembles a doctor signing his name to a prescription while being struck by lightning. If trying to get from A to B, it is the quickest way to end up at C, and insane. You will also visit all the other letters of the alphabet and never arrive at B. On the surface, this route appears to make no sense, but when examined more closely, it turns out it still doesn’t and you wasted $76 in gasoline.

These drunken badger routes of my brother are wild, rambling, meandering rides that zip over hill and dale, come back around hill, decide to rediscover dale and eventually run out of gas on a country highway that a mapmaker missed because he fell asleep due to boredom.

This is exactly my brother’s kind of place. “AHHHH YESSSS!!!” he says. “Isn’t it beautiful? There is literally nothing around for 263.7 miles.”

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