This perfectly mediocre picture may elicit mixed reactions. For me, another Amazon package arriving might make me excited about my new thing…angry about their wasteful deliveries and packaging…sad about all the local, face-to-face businesses that have died…and worried about materialism, neighborhoods, and their underpaid employees.

Travel can take you away from these worries. And my next major-league BreakAway should be Amazon-free—where no giant PRIME trucks block quiet streets. Where children don’t consume on their phones as a routine pastime. And where chirpy shopkeepers take pride in running a family business, and somehow make a living doing so.

I’ve been to these places—and hope you have too. The villages of Italy. The ports of the Caribbean. Small towns in the Midwest. And independent countries all over the planet that think outside the envelope. Meantime: I’m guilty as charged. When you need a THING, it’ll magically appear on your door the next day. May you shop in interesting times.

Why do you travel? One reason many would mention is to see new things. Indeed, your sense of observation gets more keen when in a new place. You just plain pay more attention.

That’s not to say that a rainbow poodle would go unnoticed on the streets where you live. I’m guessing that’s the point of painting your poodle: To draw attention. This particular critter crossed my path in Carmel, California, and seemed almost as interested in me as I was in him.

God Bless America gets plenty of play. Heck, they still sing the song during the 7^th-inning stretch at every Sunday MLB baseball game.

God Bless Puerto Rico? Not so much. Talk about being thrown curveballs, spitballs, and beanballs! In recent years, this unlucky territory of the USA has suffered catastrophic weather, skimpy support (not to mention abuse) from Mother Country USA, and a rapidly declining population as people flee their beloved but beleaguered homeland.

This week, Puerto Rico got pounded again by nasty weather. Sad. These are real people—real Americans. I’ve spent some time there, and aim to again. So today I salute Puerto Rico and wish them continued toughness and tenacity as they brave all these rough seas.

Here you see some high school girls enjoying a varsity soccer match on a Thursday night. America’s new pastime, of course, is football—so the pig-skinners get the Friday night lights. And usually, the youngsters and crowds follow in a grand American tradition.

Kids’ sports get plenty of bad raps these days. People fret about the costs, injuries, stress, commitment, and beyond. I get it. But this sports dad (and eternal coach and booster member) will kindly play defense. As everyday BreakAways go, athletics win. What better way to sidestep the routine, get exercise, make friends, experience competition, represent community, and get off-screen?

With any luck, those life lessons last a lifetime. And the kids will stay forever young and robust.

Lots of people like to travel, especially children. Follow them, ride the wave, and thank them later.

These people appear to be heels-over-head in their thrill-ride that might make some of us feel guts-inside-out. They are oblivious to the ominous skies and apparently delighted to defy gravity at breakneck speeds.

It’s State Fair time here in the Twin Cities—the biggest event of the year that takes over media, minds, roads, parking lots, and beyond. The hoo-ha can be annoying. But one tries to embrace the aspects of community, diversity, tradition, and enthusiasm.

Hey, people are getting out and doing something. That’s what BreakAway is all about. It’s peaceful. It’s great people (and animal) watching. It’s a sensual end-of-summer ritual, and you can’t have too many of those.

BreakAway advocates for taking time off and pursuing balance. A one-year faraway sabbatical is the rare grand slam. But even hobbies help advance your chance for sanity.

Gardening is a good one. You get some exercise, you work with nature, and you get off your butt and into the curative outdoors. Moreover, watching your garden grow can be a most magical experience.

Lettuce not forget, however, the hazards of gardening. My pollinator-friendly yard is just buzzing with hyper bees and hornets. The steep hillside hosts unseen holes and rocks, like wipe-out booby traps. And even this dang weed carries enough burrs to bury your clothes and gloves; I’ve had to toss much grubby gardening garb—and yanked it from hair and flesh.

Of course, during most growing seasons, I’ve stayed ahead of these weeds and avoided such terrible entanglements. But not this summer. There’s a lesson here, perhaps a metaphor. And I guess I’ll keep learning it—the painful way.

Here at BreakAway, we preach the Gospel of Getting Out! The Right to Run Away! And of course, we are zealous rockers—and urge everyone to see and support live music ASAP and often! Few diversions can compare in entertainment, exhilaration, and escape.

Who else opens the show with a guitar-jeweled crown moving above the stage? What other band has VIP seats in those on-stage balconies? (Pay no attention to those magnates behind the curtain!)

It’s Queen, of course. And though we’ll forever miss Freddy, 18,000 rabid fans happily embrace Adam Lambert (The Voice), original members Brian May (guitar) and Roger Taylor (drums), and their bombastic supporting band.

You don’t often see that many people—ages 8 to 88—standing, weeping, singing along. But after all, we are the champions, my friends.

And we’ll keep on rocking ‘til the end.

This splashy character resides in Stockholm, and posed for this pic in July, 2012. Stockholm is a magical city—stretching out over 14 islands and featuring a cool, clean vibe.

Oh sure, the taxes are sky-high, the cost of living might make San Fran seem cheap, and buying a beer might make you gulp twice. But the Swedes don’t seem to mind—and neither does this robust fountain man.

Summers are synonymous with road trips. And what road trip is complete without a road house? When you see that shack or shanty oozing good vibes, killer music, and smokehouse aromas, you stop. You go in. Or out, as is the case of this establishment that’s without a sign, hidden at the end of a parking lot, in a quiet neighborhood on a lake, and laden with enough stuff to make a junkyard jealous.

The owners and their kinfolk run the place, modeled, they say, “after those crazy joints down in the Keys.” The regulars keep bringing more crazy kitsch. You cold get dizzy trying to take it all in—or is that the drinks? They’re open Thursday – Sunday, mostly sometimes. But if you’re really lucky, you don’t much care about day, time, or place. Because you’re on vacation. And those folks on the other stools have stories to tell.

Hey, summer’s fading. Already. I suggest you travel just far enough to find an escape like this. And then bask in the sun and smiles for a good, long time…