Well, well, well. Just when some might think the Career Break movement has taken a break of its own, the WSJ pumps out a powerful article about Baby Boomers embracing the “Midlife ‘Gap’ Year.”

Read all about it! The 60-year-old couple who escape their routine and sell their stuff and high-tail it to a mountain retreat. The tech exec who takes the early-retirement package and weaves her love of textiles back into her life. The New Yorker who cuts his film career and flies off to three three-month adventures.

Gurus from Encore.org, Reboot Partners, and more offer tips and stories. AARP provides survey-sez results that verify the profound need for career breaks, since many retirees report disturbing dissatisfaction.

Yet the article reminds us that sabbaticals need not be about African safaris and sailing the seas.

“Sometimes they may do very little,”

writes author Anne Tergesen.

That may raise the question: But isn’t that what unhappy retirees complain about? Maybe. But perhaps the difference lies in the mindfulness, planning, and intention that happens to those committed to BreakAways as a way of life.

And whether you choose to catch up on sleep or climb every mountain doesn’t really matter. The point is to stop off the treadmill. Do what matters. And take your time.

Like many of us, my lists have lists—and my journals have journals. Any more, the “journals” come in myriad forms: notebooks, tablets, folders, docs, and even crumpled Post-its. Atop that proverbial pile sits boxes of photos, a virtual terabyte of iPhoto pics, and online stuff; all tell more stories. It’s enough to make a guy give up and just keep the thoughts to myself.

But then something happens. You see your kids journaling—without prompt. You stumble on an old entry that strikes up a memory like a forgotten, favorite song. You realize the archetypal beauty of just plain writing, and then find a “clip” like this one, from Fast Company, entitled The One Easy Daily Habit that Makes Life More Awesome…

So ponders writer (and lifetime journaler) Laura Vanderkam. She describes her on-again/off-again relationship with journaling and maintains that doing so boosts one’s gratitude and happiness quotient; she even says science backs that assertion!

Some of us don’t know much about science. But we do know this: You almost always feel a little better when you sit a spell and write about the roses. Blossoms don’t last forever; memories do. But only if we find a way to preserve them for later. Try a gratitude journal, suggest Vanderkam and Fast Company. Gratitude is great, I agree, but I say let it all air out.

• So many media, so little time?

Perhaps the biggest problem these days is deciding which platform will best house your reflections. Does writing on computer count? What if your computer loses ITS memory? Is Facebook a journal? What about Twitter and Instagram? A blog? Is it a personal journal at all if you’re sharing it for others to LIKE?

How might one ever compile all this information into a, say, book? Is it possible? If so, who has time?

Well, we all do. We’re all equally rich with time, and what better use of that finite commodity than to cease the chase and put pen to paper?

I enjoyed lunch with a friend today—the mother of three young children. Their family may be the only one I know that has managed to keep their kids internet-free. Oh sure, there’s some TV. But that’s it. Can you imagine? Could most kids survive?

“Oh, they’re so busy. They wouldn’t have time for all that,” my friend humbly reflected. But isn’t everybody busy any more? Isn’t “I’m so busy!” the mantra of our era? And yet…

The average American kid spends 7+ hours per day on entertainment media.

I’m concerned—about my own family, naturally, but even moreso about the long-term effects of generations of humans evolving this way. Doctors are officially worried too:  A recent article in Pediatrics magazine recommends a max of two hours. The problems associated with media over-consumption include:

• Violence
• School difficulties
• Obesity
• Sleep deprivation
• Social dysfunction
• Cyberbullying (which has now been linked to several suicides)

“It’s their world,” has become my cop-out surrender over the years. After all, my folks didn’t stop me from buying big stereos, playing in a rock-&-roll band, and watching Gilligan’s Island. And many parents resort to,

You know, as long as they’re doing well in school and playing sports and seem well-adjusted…”

But maybe the crisis is not so simple. It’s NOT their world; it’s ours. And it’s our responsbility to keep our progeny from turning into sick and tired cyber-zombies.

This tug-of-war is far from over. I’m getting back into fighting shape.

A son’s friend asked me the other day, “Do you think I could learn to play guitar?”

I had just tuned up my Yamaha full body from the 70s—and took the opportunity to make a little joyful noise.

“Well sure,” I replied, “anybody can. It’s the singing that’s the hard part!”

• Practice, practice, practice

Doesn’t really matter what you want to do: If you want to be good at it, you must practice—even if you’re born with a gift. Sometimes, that stinks. In outdoor sports, that can mean playing through mud, storms, and grizzled coaches. In music, it can mean years of lessons, drills, and dedication. “No one enjoys practicing!” a professional musician once told me with a laugh.

• Play, play, play

But at some point, practice becomes play. And those scales that once made you scream might skate from your fingertips. You become one with the strings and music happens without a thought. (In fact, thinking only gets in the way.) Worries can’t compete. The world melts away and you get lost in good vibrations, as if in meditation.

Happy is the home that keeps messy with musical instruments around.

• Too messy. Oak leaves last longer than parchment paper. Just when you finally finish spring cleanup, the trees start shedding again. Who enjoys raking? Nobody who has dozens of old trees within earshot.
• Too much schoolin’. Biggest buzzkill in the world? BTS. No, wait: Getting a 9-5 (which might mean 7a-10p) job after college; that’s worse. Here’s a great education that you never forget: Hopping the wrong train when somewhere far away, and ending up exactly where you’re meant to be.
• Too much indoors. Outside feels open, expansive, easy—and the less clothes, the better. Fall puts the clothes back on and the walls in charge.
• Too dark. 9-21 means the first day of fall, and the first day of darkness impending. Not until six months later do the days get longer again. Fall marks the march into the winter solstice—a day to celebrate, but a lousy day to catch some rays.
• Too much change. The Beach Boys once sang about Endless Summer. But look what happened to them. Fall’s like a freak show that turns lithe youth into craggy spinsters. Around here, people put away their convertibles and dig out heavy parkas.

The good news is: Autumn offers the best season to leave—to somewhere new. This vagabond has caught trains, planes, and autos for extended BreakAways to everywhere from Florida to Italy and Milwaukee to Auckland.

Does autumn harsh your mellow? Fear not, and listen to those crazy voices within.

Maybe it’s a great time to do the wild thing…

Who are these a-holes shutting down the government? Don’t they know 800,000 just-folks employees depend on their paychecks? That millions more work on the food chain that serves them? That our economy (which has been though quite enough lately) could lurch back into near-depression?

This website avoids getting political. Until, of course, we’re mad as hell and can’t take it any more. I mean: This country has flaws, but dang it, we do good work. And for our hard work, we get an occasional day off. A vacation. Maybe even a career break (of our own choosing, not Uncle Sam’s). And with any luck, retirement before the c-word or heart attacks strike us down.

Speaking of: It’s about a healthcare law that a few troublemakers don’t like. They don’t want to provide; they want to Just Say No. They don’t care that it’s been debated for decades. Gradually (almost) phased in with tedious compromise and consternation. And even passed our Supreme Court’s smell test—the same Supreme Court that has otherwise has leaned right and sucked up inappropriate power for a long time. Our founding fathers would puke, regardless of party affiliation. Let’s get on to the next spat.

Americans are a blissfully blithe bunch. But this citizen can’t say, “How are you?” today without somebody expressing anxiety. An admirable centrist shows anger. A probation employee wonders when his “grace period” might expire. A radio report compares us to Italy. Italy? It’s a great place to visit, but you wouldn’t want to vote there.

Last Friday night, under the lights, I watched a high-school football player go down hard with a possible neck or back injury. Action stopped for a dreadfully silent hour while trainers and coaches did their best, an ambulance eventually arrived, and they boarded him and drove off to the hospital.

Who knows if he has health insurance? If his family doesn’t, the tab on that unfortunate stumble probably runs around in the thousands—before any serious care might occur. Does our nation not want to take care of innocent pre-schoolers, minimum-wage workers, and high-school athletes?

Guess not. In fact, let’s shut the world’s largest employer down over this tired argument. Let’s drag down the whole nation—nay!—the whole free world!—while these arrogant, ignorant, belligerent butt-heads play war games with our daily trust at stake.

Never been a fan of Merr-ka’s gun laws. But supposedly, they were created to keep the government in check, which made sense at the time. Maybe it’s time again. If we march and throw them into the Potomac River, there will be no government guards to protect them.

Twice this week, while on the phone trying to expedite matters of consequence that had become stalled, this was what my teleconference-mate told me.

“Uh, okay, as you wish,” was my delayed response—though I secretly wanted to teleport myself to them, bonk their cranium with the telephone, and not leave their face until we’d solved the matter.

• What we have here…

is a failure to communicate. And to collaborate, create, and connect. Call me crazy, but I miss the days when life happened in real time, face to face. Now, a relentless chore we all face is simply dealing with our inboxes. Our texts. And our calendroids.

How did THEY ever survive when, as in my grandparents’ time, food was planted and canned and cooked for every meal? When communication was by visiting your neighbors or going to town (until that new-fangled “party line” arrived)? When entertainment was swapping stories in the sitting room (before radio wowed the masses)?

• Do you ever wonder…

If “send me an email” really means, “Leave me alone. I’m busy with my screen right now.”

If “kids these days” will know how to endure decades of marriage that (to work) require ongoing communication, compromise, and commitment?

If “kids these days” are getting short-shrifted when they sit around texting, even when gathered together; where’s the mischief and laughter in that?

If texting as a now-dominant form of communication comes close to conveying the detail, nuance, and emotion that can make even little moments (if I may) amazing?

If online teaching can match the rigors and surprises of a convivial classroom experience? (Two friends have started new gigs in this growing field, whereas I love the challenge and exhilaration of teaching a classroom full of living, babbling millennials).

• LIFE goes on…

Fortunately, both of my emails did get replies. The matters got resolved. Life goes on.

But this reluctant screen-stronaut longs for living that happens in real time, and in your face—like these Italian gentlemen enjoying la dolce vita. It’s raining and they’re late for lunch. But they might blow smoke in each other’s face until happy hour, and then head the bar to continue the conversation with a few dozen amici.

To them, I lean in, clink our glasses loudly, and shout, “Salute’!” To those who keep saying send me an email/text me/check your inbox, I retort, “Vada via!”*

* Italian for “Go away.”

You can’t toss a diploma anymore without hitting some media story about the plight of millennials. They can’t find decent jobs. They’re up to their mortar boards in debt. They’re moving back in with their parents in record numbers—40%. That’s 21.6 million millennials (18 to 31) shacking up with Mom and/or Dad.

According to one recent story, in fact, any stigma about returning to the empty nest has now faded away like a forgotten frat party. The great recession humbled many people’s aspirations, of course. But it’s also true that this generation has been particularly cozy with their parents—and many parents welcome them back with open arms and minds.

Some staggering statistics

Living at home is only the beginning. Consider a few more stats:

• 20% of Americans have student loans. (Countrywide Financial)
• 55% say their education loans are affecting decisions such as getting married, buying a house, and/or saving for retirement. (Countrywide Financial)
• 17% of millennials in their 20s with at least some college education claim to be “totally independent” now, compared to 23% in 2011. (PNC Wealth Management)
• 58% of 20-29 year olds with some college rate themselves behind where they expected to be in terms of financial success. (PNC Wealth Management)

Beyond the numbers, though, the trend hits close to home. In my circle of friends and families, I’m hard-pressed to think of one college grad who waltzed with ease from graduation into a career-worthy job. Even unpaid internships are tough to land. Heck, most high-school students don’t have summer or other part-time jobs, either.

I don’t mean to show my age. But…back in the day, virtually everyone worked. And if you asked your parents for some money, they’d probably reply, “Get a job.”

Yet most folks would agree that “kids grow up so fast these days.” Indeed, in many ways, they do—from an early obsession with colleges, grades, and test scores to early exposure to sex, drugs, and digital living. Even LinkedIn recently announced a new target: High school and college students. “This is a way we can engage kids in their future,” states LinkedIn mouthpiece Christina Allen.

We can engage them in more screen time, I think she means. Yet the best contacts and jobs will still call for traditional social skills like taking initiative, minding your manners, and maintaining presence. As Woody Allen says, “80% of success is showing up.” (And I don’t think he meant on a LinkedIn page.)

Time for Temporary Retirement?

One can only hope for a big-picture, long-term outlook for these young’uns (and their families). Why not, for instance, take that first career break before the career kicks off? One could…

• Take a gap year, like so many countries kids do, and travel on the cheap; is there anything more educational than travel? Won’t most worthy employers be impressed—especially if you become bilingual?
• Join the Peace Corps, Americorp, or other worthy outreach program.
• Look into teaching in a developing nation.
• Check out living with a relative in a faraway city or country.
• Get entrepreneurial and start a business.

It’s conceivable that these millennials will need to work 50 years before officially retiring—if they ever do find jobs, that is. My hope is that this group and their challenging circumstances might help usher in the paradigm shift that makes temporary retirement throughout their career a common, and celebrated, experience.

On that goal, they’re off to a good start!

I just picked up my kids (ages 10 and 16), along with seven other Rosevillians, after their week at Camp Foster at Lake Okoboji, Iowa. (Yes, Iowa.) While camp isn’t for every kid and is unfortunately unaffordable for some, this Summer Guy bursts with gusto in support. The reasons stack high as 555 pancakes, but here are a Top 11…

• No adults, hardly. In this helicopter era, kids need a break from the ever-loving (over-loving?) Units that may take too many pics, ask too many questions, and expect too much.
• Screams and shouts. The voices you pick up after camp are so hoarse they sound almost sick. But the reason is clearer than the camp’s mess-hall bell: They sing, cheer, shout, and laugh all day (and sometimes, all night). THEY UNPLUG THEIR DIGITALIA and invent their own entertainment. What a joyful noise!
• Those songs. Just about everything is covered—from today’s hits to camp classics to spontaneous compositions. But a few refreshing themes stand out: No swearing, no dissing, no lewdness. They take a vacation from Ke$ha and rap and come home singing “One Tin Soldier.”
• Unbroken circles. The power of song manifests in many ways. But perhaps the most touching is on the last night at bonfire, when “graduates” (16-year-olds in their last year) get encircled by the counselors who sing “Will the Circle Be Unbroken” with revamped lyrics that include, “May our friendships last forever, and the memories last a lifetime.”
• Coming of age. As those lyrics suggest, each year at camp—and the simple patch that may be your only material souvenir—represents a symbolic step from childhood into adulthood. When you drive away from your last camp, you’re riding a rite of passage. And because you know it and feel it, you probably shed a few tears about it.
• Extraordinary activities. Sure, kids these days get to do all kinds of things we never did, for better (more travel for many) and worse (more screen time for most). At camp, you still learn dying arts like sailing, archery, and arts and crafts.
• Specialty sessions.  At Camp Foster (like most camps), you can stick with the lighter, looser schedule. Or you can sign up for focused opportunities like watersports, horseback riding, and watercraft safety training via the Spirit of America program.
• Pranks. Campers play giddy, silly tricks on one another. One cabin will get up in the middle of the night to set up a practical joke on another—all in good fun. Soon comes revenge. And the game goes on and on…
• Backwardness. Growing up these days seems filled with evermore expectations and rules. At camp, “Backwards Bridge” MUST be crossed walking backwards—or the troll below will steal your flip-flops. Breakfast may be served for dinner. And “Prom” (for the oldest ones) lets you dress in crazy garb from the prop room.
• Improv. In any era, kids are apt to feel both awkward as baby ponies and yet too cool for school. That stuff gets shed like clothes at the pool once camp gets going—and acting out turns into acting, dancing, making silly skits, and making others laugh (while laughing at yourself). It’s a great antidote to school’s stressful hallways.
• Summer. Around here, the warmest season seems also the shortest—yet certainly the sweetest. Camp carves out a time to worship the sun. Punctuate the years. And find a warm, relaxed groove—if only for one week—just before the back-to-school ads hit the fan.

As a hands-on parent, few experiences are as easy (I get a week break too!) yet so valuable. Yes, your child may cling and cry as you stand in line to leave them behind. But with any luck, when you pick them up, they’re bursting with stories and memories—and begging to come back next year.

Hey, why not a camp for parents, too!?!

Financial Times recently posted a story extolling the virtues of extended time off, paid sabbaticals, completely unplugging, and taking strategic distance from your work to help you get better focus and perspective. The article offers many role models who are richer (in all ways) because of their commitment to balance.

Much credit goes to the founder of the Strategic Coach program, Dan Sullivan, who helps entrepreneurs grow their businesses and leverage the benefits of free time—while taking off 155 days each year himself. As he sagely states,

Taking time off refreshes the brain but it also simplifies your brain.”

It’s a great read, so go there! Meantime, here are a few quotes that stack up like persuasive testimonials from entrepreneurs who have learned to accomplish more by working less…

• “The fewer days I work, the greater my measurable economic results.”

• “The person should completely disconnect during the sabbatical…No checking email. No calls. Total sabbatical.”

• The sabbatical “was great for me, and great for the company to run without me for six weeks.”

• “I delegated more and I told the people in the office that if I called on a free day they were to hang up the phone on me.”

• “I now have a fairly full life. I do a lot of community work, I travel and I have a great family life. I wouldn’t have that if I hadn’t found the ability to take free days.”

There’s much more to say and consider from this article. But alas, this writer is on vacation, and is about to exceed the 55-minute-per-day limit on screen time. So why not join me? Peruse the story, put your screen to sleep, and go outside and refresh your viewpoint and outlook!