Doc Abbott was the eccentric proprietor of a picturesque promontory on Lake Superior—now owned by several generations of my (wife’s) relatives and called, simply, “The Point.” 

His HOUSE RULES, which hang prominently in his original log residence, offer an enlightening view on how to be a good guest and tread lightly in your travels…

HOUSE RULES

1. GUESTS WILL PLEASE NOT SHAKE HANDS UPON ARRIVAL OR DEPARTURE. 
2. PLEASE DO NOT MENTION IT HAS BEEN A LONG DRIVE, WE REALIZE THAT MORE THAN YOU DO.
3. B.Y.O.C.  (BRING YOUR OWN CIGARS AND CIGARETTS.)
4. GUESTS WILL KINDLY MAKE THEMSELVES AT HOME, AND NOT BOTHER THE MANAGEMENT FOR ENTERTAINMENT.  WE HAVE NOTHING TO OFFER. 
5. PLEASE DON’T SAY YOU ENJOYED YOUR VISIT.  IF YOU DID, COME AGAIN.
6. AFTER DEPARTING, DO NOT SAY TO YOUR FELLOW GUEST, “WHAT A STRANGE PLACE.”  HE IS THINKING THE SAME THING.

Doc sold the property to the family in 1955, with the agreement that he could remain in residence for as long as he lived.  Less than 6 months later, Doc’s beloved canine companion, Duffy, was hit and killed by a car during a supply trip to Grand Marais.  Later that day, Doc took his own life, here on The Point.  RIP. 

Some insist that the ghost of Doc Abbott still lurks around The Point—and appears in dreams, strange noises and inexplicable occurrences.  I cannot personally validate these claims.

Last weekend, when hosting a session at the UnSummit conference, I found myself facilitating a conversation about mini Sabbaticals.  Sometimes, that notion makes my nose turn up like a snob at White Castle.  But more and more, I endeavor to embrace the fact that most folks are lucky to even snare a vacation.  And I may be a spoiled brat.

When old haunts feel eerily familiar

With any luck, everyone has a place to BreakAway to—a cabin, campground or community.  I’ve got the deep waters and crazy party scene of Lake Okoboji.  And the pristine North Shore of Lake Superior.  Both offer the comfort of a favorite beach blanket.

But I must confess that the upteen vacations are blurring.

I mean, when digging up pics for this post, I could rarely tell one year from another.  Is that a good thing or a bad thing?

Grand Marais, a cool place

My love affair with Grand Marais began in high school.  Despite my folks’ furrowed brows, I signed up for a 3-week environmental studies journey sponsored by the University of Iowa.  The trip was a blast, and inspired a turning point for my desire to break away now and then.

30-some teens of good fortune (though I paid for my own) from all over the U.S. canoed countless miles, hiked up mountains through thunderstorms, and of course snuck away from (or into) our tents to do the things teenagers do.  Our instructors both kicked our butts and blessed us with wise winks.

When walking the endless breakwater to the lighthouse, I can still hear a gaggle of us inventing verses, clapping and stomping, and then joining in raucous chorus to “We Will Rock You.”  Old stomping grounds, indeed.

Grand Marais served as a hub many nights before and after wilderness adventures.  So I left part of my heart in this little town and moody Lake Superior.  I didn’t know then, though, that years later, it would become like a second home. Strange angels work in mysterious ways.

Where arts-fartsy meets the Beaver House

This town, like most small towns, can be a little rough around the edges.  In the latest paper, the townsfolk are battling over a possible 4-day school week, the controversial new rain garden around the Veterans’ memorial, and the same marina plans they’ve been debating for decades.

It can be dang cold here, and locals often don’t need no Minnesota Nice.  I’ve seen grizzled adults refuse to share a view of the Solstice Pageant with kids.  Enviro-bohemians giving nasty stinkeye to a biker for smoking on the street.  And drunk resort owners try to rip me off over a fiver.

Paradise is like that, as I’ve experienced and written about more times that I care to remember:  The natives clash with the rednecks sneer at the Birkenstockers scowl at the opulent who complain that the artists’ and eatery’s prices are too high.

But it’s good to break away…

Lake Superior keeps rolling, the Angry Trout remembers me and the Ben Franklin is still stuffed with more merch than makes sense.  It’s just like last year.  And the years before that.  And I doubt that marina will ever get built—even though this feelin’-lucky sailor is in favor of it (and I would never say so out loud).

Yes, it’s summer.  Time again to break away to Grand Marais—same as it ever was.

Maybe it’s not a baby Sabbatical.  After all, if I added the days from the dozens of times I’ve been here, the sum total would be countless months stretching back to my youth.  A Big Break in many broken pieces, maybe?

I’m losing track.  I’ve been here less than 24 hours and it already feels like I’ve been here forever.  This sensation of relaxed languor washes over me like the lake’s crashing waves.  My thoughts turn to hot tubs, cold beer, foggy memories and little more.

Perhaps that’s the point.

Perhaps a vacation BreakAway to a familiar spot is one long, lazy, baby Sabbatical.  What do YOU think?

The most amazing thing happened to me last weekend.  I went to my daughter’s first-ever dance recital.  And at the beginning, the hosts passionately asked the hundreds of people in the audience to turn off and put away ALL devices—no phones, cameras, videos, iPads.  

Imagine:  Everyone complied.  There were NO digi-distractions.  Just dancing! 

For me, it was like going to a church that doesn’t exist any more.  The church of real experience.  Of being here now.  Of no rude intrusions by strangers and their tech toys.  Of everyone on the same stage—where talented dancers, music, costumes, lighting and more kicked butt over anything your digitalia can do.  In a word:  Wow! 

We are not alone.  Lately, media, bloggers, and even healthcare folks are questioning our obsession with these new playthings. 

For now, here’s an invitation to peruse some profound stuff and ask yourself, “What can I learn from this?” 

NYT’s Tara Parker-Pope asks “Are you hooked on technology?” and tells about netaddiction.com and their research into how the digi-drug gets into your system.  Next thing you know, you’re saying “just a minute” whenever someone wants your attention, just for starters. 

• This is your brain on computers

In another crushing NYT story—this on on the front page on 6/6/10—Matt Richtel digs into “Hooked on Gadgets, and Paying a Mental Price.”  You’ll learn about how this stuff is rewiring our brains, causing dopamine spurts, and making many “forget things like dinner plans…and focusing on our families.” (sic)

As one subject’s wife puts it:

It seems like he can no longer be fully in the moment.” 

On the bright side, this suggests that Mr. Distracted was once capable of being present, which perhaps offers hope that he can get there again…

• Does the internet make you dumb or dumber?

Meanwhile, the WSJ recently invited two writers to take sides on whether the internet makes you smarter or dumber.  Read their commentaries and then decide for yourself:  Yes or No.  None of this “It depends…” stuff.  That’s like voting for both candidates.  Why bother?

I’ll do the same—and get back to you soon with my final answer. 

Just now, though, I’m having some touble focusing.  Plus, I have to check out a few new links, comment on some blogs, make a few fixes on my site and catch up on my e-mails. 

Aw shoot, and I just remembered a bunch of texts on my iPhone that I must reply to.  It’s beeping at me.  Again.  And again. 

And…what the heckers?  It’s 10:30 and I’ve forgotten to eat a healthy breakfast?  That never used to happen!?! 

Anyway, I’ll get back to you soon with my final answer.  Promise. 

(What was the question?)

To quote an old phrase, WE ARE NOT ALONE!!!

In fact, there are umpteen other people out there advocating (and taking) sabbaticals and career breaks.  I see us as a bunch of independent, intrepid souls stubbornly hacking our paths in the work-life jungle and this wild webbed world. Which makes it all the more exciting when we’re actually able to “meet” other members of the tribe and forge a connection.

I’ve recently gotten to know the mother-daughter power-team at yourSABBATICAL.com, a site I’ve long admired.  When they asked me to appear on their web pages as a guest blogger, I jumped at the chance.  In fact, that request sparked a big idea and may have catalyzed an exciting event and collaboration.  I’ll tell you more about that shortly, but first, let me introduce you to the Paganos…

• Their niche?  Making sabbaticals mainstream in business

Barbara Pagano and her daughter Elizabeth are the founders of yourSABBATICAL.  If you visit their site—and you will!—you’ll enter a world filled with pith, inspiration and resources, more comprehensive and credible than anything else that’s out there. While many of us who carry the sabbatical banner are part-timers and dream chasers, these women are Serious–with a full-time focus of helping corporations with sabbatical programs, coaching aspiring escapees, and spreading the good word. In their own words,

yourSABBATICAL partners with businesses to implement customized sabbatical programs that attract, retain, and accelerate top talent through personal and professional enrichment.”

Yep, that’s some heavy lifting.  As a person who is passionate about sabbaticals (both my own and others’), I’m delighted that the yS team is out there nudging corporate America (and everyday Americans) in the direction of greater freedom, flexibility and fulfillment.  Their impressive crew is clearly poised to help shift workplace policy and practice.  And they’ve created an important forum for dialogue on this rich and growing topic.

• My idea?  Getting us all together for a Sabbatical Summit

As our tribe of Big Breakers finds each other, we first sniff each other out, and then play like happy animals and ask, “How can we help each other?”  After all, since few people are making a living advocating sabbaticals, there must be ample room for all of us, right?  What we need is a movement!

So I cooked up the idea of the Sabbatical Summit.  You know, a time and space where some gurus (or at least fanatics) could collaborate, celebrate, and make things happen.  And all our like-minded friends could drink from the kool-aid—I mean “well.”

I’ve got a bunch of ideas about what this could look like, and I recently posted them on the yS site right here. Take a peek and add your own .02.

Delusional daydream? Perhaps.  But so were distant schemes of taking a year off, going RTW, and spending a winter hopping around Caribbean islands.

Daydreams do come true, you know.  And if not, holding on to faith, seeking your destiny, and giving thanks never hurt anyone.  Get the picture?  Click this link to see what I mean.

And maybe someday—someday—we’ll see you too at the Sabbatical Summit.

PS  My sincere thanks to Barbara and Elizabeth Pagano.  Expect to hear more from and about them on BreakAway soon!

Over the past 2 weeks, “Yoder & Sons,” a column by a WSJournalist and his boys, has been pondering whether Father & 14-year-old Levi should get “crazy” and take a 6-month fantasy trip.  Most readers say “Go!”  So does this father—and his son—and I submit this photo as evidence enough. 

My son, you see, loves to fish.  So imagine his ecstasy when we were strolling seaside on the island of Grenada and a bunch of brawny fishermen demanded that he scramble down the breakfront and help them haul in the nets.  He likes school too.  But this stuff just don’t happen—not even in World Cultures class. (Here’s his version of the story, on his blog.)

In this case, Steve & Levi Yoder are kicking around the idea of a tour studying the history of Western Civilization, paleontology and things.  That’s a bit more ambitious than fishing during our island-hopping adventure last year.  Still, the same thing will happen.  Total strangers will surprise them and, metaphorically, time and time again, snag them in a unimaginable net. 

Those pictures will be worth 1,000 days in school.  As one woman with some serious Sabbatical experience wrote,

These journeys cannot be compared to a week here, two weeks there.  They are life-changing, relationship-building, memory-sharing, character-challenging adventures.” 

After two BreakAways with my children (and two without), I can only emphatically, wholeheartedly agree.

• BUT:  Some Say Stay Home.

Of course, not everyone encourages the Yoders to chase their dream.  One glum soul called Steve’s “dangerous odyssey” “outrageous,” and stated,

Your wife should have you declared incompetent.” 

Ouch!  I guess that makes a lot of us hopeless.  But don’t ask this inept dad:  Ask my children.  They seem to love love where their parents “incompetence” takes them. 

• Will Yoders Go?

So far, Steve’s being poker-face Yoder.  But I bet they’ll get their getaway.  He’s playing the Deathbed card, after all: 

On my deathbed, will I be glad I was prudent — saved money, paid the mortgage — or will I have a twinge of regret that I didn’t take my last remaining teenager on a quixotic odyssey?”

You’ve got a great job, Mr. Yoder.  One of the best.  Many of us are jealous.  But while some of us may not have your career success, we somehow manage a journey with a son around the world.   Homeschool two kids through the Caribbean.   Take one whole year off before the offspring arrive.  And never, ever regret those choices. 

We even pay the mortgage and keep the pantry full.  Somehow. 

• Go!  Go!  Go! 

So I’ll join the cheerleading chorus and assert that this is, literally, a once-in-a-lifetime alignment for Dad and Son to see the world, experience history, and bond nonstop.  And as for Mr. Yoder’s career, methinks this trip would only increase his knowledge, perspective and occupational capital. 

About son Levi:  Don’t wait too long, Dad.  The boy in that fishing picture is already many pounds and inches older.  His voice has changed.  Peachfuzz is emerging. 

If it’s difficult to escape now, it’ll only become moreso.  You’ve already seen one son grow up fast and disappear to college.   Now’s your chance to stop time and haul in some nets together.

Remember Sundays? Back in the day, Sundays were a time for sleeping in, singing at church, brunching out, catching a game on TV, sneaking a nap, and enjoying Sunday supper—a peaceful prelude to the busy week ahead.

WAY back in the day, the Christian and Jewish traditions mandated that one day per week be set aside for cessation from work.  The modern-day “weekend” evolved—a fine upgrade, rather like a two for one.  But does the pace really slow down any more? 

These days? Not so much.  The freeways were packed the last two Sundays; the Mother’s Day jams were anything but sweet.  Seems like few folks slow down for Sundays anymore. 

Sundays have also become fair game for kids sports (games, tourneys, practices—even over the dinner hour and into the evening).  Lots of  productive people use Sunday night to prep for their work week.  And ‘round here, many neighbors use that evening to mow, leaf-blow, and catch up on their yard labor. 

But all is not lost.  The parks are often packed with happy picnickers.  The smell of bar-b-que floats in the air.  And in the land of 10,000 lakes of leisure, the pontoons drift by with families and friends all aboard. 

If you’d like to take back your Sabbath, just do it.  Unplug your digitalia, hop on the hammock with a good book, and cook up a simple, healthy feast.  Heck, try going to a place of worship for God’s sake. 

If you want to learn more about Sabbath traditions and rationales, pick up “The Sabbath World: Glimpses of a Different Order of Time” by Judith Shulevitz—who has given the notion a lot of thought as culture critic for the New York Times, and asserts…

Our schedules are not the only thing the Sabbath would disrupt if it could.  It would also rip a hole in all the shimmering webs that give modern life its pleasing aura of weightlessness—the networks that zap digitized voices and money and data from server to iPhone to GPS.”

If you don’t have time to read—not even on Sundays—check out Shulevitz’s four-minute interview with everyone’s favorite talking head, Stephen Colbert.

By the way, have you ever noticed that Colbert does not do his show on Sundays?

It’s old news that Americans get way less vakay than our Euro rellies.  But check this:  A new EU program would subsidize vacation travel for residents who need a break—including the elderly, 18-25 year olds, and families in difficult situations.  Disabled or up in your years?  The EU would pay for your guide. 

• Read fine print before flying

Of course, a few caveats apply:  Travel must stay within Europe; the program won’t take full effect until 2013; and those in charge may require you to take your break during shoulder seasons or nudge you toward destinations that that need warm bodies.  The EU also hopes to encourage more Euro-unity by sending northerners south, and vice versa. 

So maybe there is no free vacation.  But at least they’re promoting down time  Heck, The EU already requires member nations to provide four weeks off, while some nations opt for more.  (France takes six, ooh la la!) 

• US time-off laws still lousy

In the US, vacation is not a right—basic, human, or otherwise.  Employers need not give you a day off.  And of course, the majority of employees don’t use all their vacation days anyway. 

Would the USA be a more productive, healthier, happier place to live and work if everyone got to BreakAway now and then? That’s an obvious yes. 

So call your congresspeople!  Go on strike!  But don’t expect change fast, at least not while employees are hugging their desks and assembly lines during this recession—scared about job security, to say nothing of pay and benefits. 

Ergo, take care of yourself.  Retire now and then.  You’ll make more of your life—and probably your income—in the long run.

Sometimes the schedule gets hectic.  The car becomes a second home.  Then the house gets messi(er).  The sleep turns fitful.  And healthful rituals like exercise, eating well, and chilling out go to pot. Sometimes that’s precisely the time you need to take some time—for yourself, for some good yucks, for something completely different. 

That’s what I did today.  I got lost on purpose—only to find a place that I’d been meaning to find for a long time now:  The St. Paul Hmong Market.  

I wandered about aimlessly and let the sights, sounds, and smells overwhelm me.  I bought produce of all shapes and sizes, and don’t even know what some of it is.  I got lost—again—until I found the little food-stand section I’d heard so much about. 

Then I sat down and slowly, oh so slowly, ate spring rolls, curried chicken, and purple sticky rice.  Hmong folk of several generations stared and smiled at me—the only white person in the whole market.

For 55 minutes, I felt transported to someplace else.  Because I was.  And that little hiatus felt so much more important than whatever I was supposed to be doing. 

Get lost.

When schlepping more stuff into the house the other day, a brilliant idea hit me: 

How about a family project in which we try to acquire nothing new for one month. (Okay, except for food and wine.) 

I ran it by a few family members; the idea elicited eye-rolling, if that. 

Fine, I figured.  Simplicity is not so simple.  We can keep crowding ourselves in our cluttered habitat.  And such challenges will only help me with my Zen training, right?  Anyway, spring has sprung, so a guy can finally ditch the house and dig the outdoors. 

• Self-imposed scarcity gets trendy

Little did I know that bloggers and books are rampant about the relentless pursuit of living with less.  Some of it is recession and spend/save related, though the political and spiritual motivations may carry more weight.

One couple subsisted with a food budget of a dollar a day, blogged about it, and made many dollars on the book deal they landed fast after the near-fast ended. 

A San Fran artist has given up autos—even riding in anyone else’s—and has 15 months under his belt.  Of course he, too, has a blog to share his saga. 

And up in Seattle, a diehard fashionista has sworn off buying new duds (other than underwear) for a year.  And has lived to tell the tale.

Of course, TIME magazine recently brought all these projects into the old-school media mainstream with a feature.

• Back home, the stuff-fungus grows on

Wish we had a bigger house, but then we’d just fill that one with more stuff too.  Meantime, the last week alone brought (bought?) a ton of new baseball equipment for The Boy.  Dance uniforms (3) and American Girl gear for The Girl.  And several springy garments (albeit secondhand) for the wife.  (NOTHING left the house, save trash.) 

As for me?  Nothing new!  That’s some level of success, right?  After all, we learn over and over that we can only control our own actions.  And when it comes to stuff-coveting, self-control isn’t easy. 

Much of America is blessed with so, so much.  The question is:  When do blessings become burdens?

The AP reports that “the squeeze with the sneeze” has gotten so bad that more that more than half of U.S. workers get regular calls from their employers when they’re not supposed to be working—including when taking a sick day.   That is SO sick. 

Meanwhile, the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics reports that 39% of private sector employees get no sick time at all. 

Is this any way to build loyalty and create leadership?  Heck, no.  Rather, such lack of respect and compassion brings out the beast in people—and smashes any aspirations for future hope and leadership, as another recent survey finds.

• 24% of people being asked to take on new challenges are more excited to get to work
• 62% of workers have no desire to assume a leadership role

These stats are outrageous and paint an ugly picture for the future.  We should all be fuming.  But work is sucking our collective energy and creativity away.  So who has time to fight (much less fantasize about Sabbaticals)?  People are tired, poor, and yearning to be free. 

A few folks are questioning these disturbing trends, though, including the Families and Work Institute.  Their president, Ellen Galinsky, smartly sums up work thusly:  

Work is a marathon.  We keep running harder and faster.  What we know now from research is that work is really much more like interval training.  You need time for reset and recovery.” 

Well put, Ellen.  Breakaways for all!