Article archive / June 1, 2014
Originally published: . Volume 5, No. 10. Source pages: 2.
I’ve found that putting the Times out during the summer is a little harder than in the high activity spring and even the fall.
Dr. Yael Banai’s feature, “What I did on my winter vacation,” and the frequent instruction on the end of emails to, “Have a nice summer,” reminds me of the traditions of summertime.
Growing up in a newspaper family, the vacation week was preceded by a manic––even more than usual––effort to produce what we called, “The Farm Edition.” My father would send me out to take photos and gather the soft news from around the rural life setting of Red River Parish. I’d find out which livestock farmer had a new prize bull (and take a picture), how the cotton fields were holding up to the drought (and take a picture), and which vermin had found their way into the corn crops (and take a picture).
This filled up the back of the paper so that right before we took off for vacation, my parents would write up the hard news for the front page. The backshop, a production team composed of two great young fellows named Johnnie and KP, would run the press and get the paper to the post office across the street when the deadline arrived.
Mom and Dad were free for seven days, unheard of the rest of the year. So, after this mad-dash, frazzled sprint to produce the Farm Edition, my Day piled us in the car for a mad-dash, frazzled sprint to some beach where we fought sand, surf, and sunburn until we returned home to recover.
When I was 11, my father got it into his head to see Hemingway’s home, so this time he piled us (four kids and mom) into his new Buick Skylark and we drove from Coushatta, Louisiana, to Key West, Florida.
My father was a drive-a-holic and could put 100,000 miles on a car in one year. But obviously ignoring the fact that time passes faster for adults than children, he set out on a four-day round trip of 2,600 miles to Key West.
I remember the Banyan trees, eating lobster for the first time, and driving along the Keys where the road narrowed and the land dropped away to nothing but turquoise ocean on both sides.
But mostly, I remember the eternity of staring out a car window mile after mile after mile.
The trip to the Keys was my last. The next year I put my 12-year-old foot down and refused ever again to go on a family vacation. My vehemence seemed to break open the groupthink and my older sister, a very accommodating, sweet, and cooperative sort, amazingly broke ranks too. My younger brothers joined the revolt. I think my father would have exercised his authority except for the fact that my mother amazed us all and agreed, announcing that she would instead spend her time, by herself, fishing for Bream in Black Lake.
Psychological science tells us we like to be busy. We’ll try and stay busy, even if we don’t really have anything to do. That’s the hard part about summer vacation.
In their work, “Idleness Aversion and the Need for Justifiable Busyness,” Hsee and his colleagues point out that people dread idleness, and people who are busy are happier than people who are idle. So, even a specious justification can motivate people to be busy, they found.
What am I doing for summer vacation this year? I hope nothing. Whether nature or nurture, I’ve always had a bit of a challenge when it comes to vacations.
But there is one good thing about the summer.
The legislature goes home and for a time stops making laws and dreaming up things for the rest of us to have to do.
So for now, at least I don’t have to worry that they’ll pass a law saying I have to drive four days in order to spend three on vacation.
Have a nice summer!
This article is part of a historical newspaper archive. Read the original issue for its original layout, photographs and graphics.