VACATION FROM SUMMER VACATION

This may sound un-American, but I am against summer vacation.

Now, I do not mean my summer vacation; I don’t get one of those, so there’s nothing for me to be against. I’m referring to the interminable break my children take from school during the summer months. (I assume other children have this same layoff, but I don’t care about them. Unless they spend one second of this idle time in my house, in which case I do care and they can just turn around and go back home.)

I don’t know anyone who is fully on board with this cultural relic called summer vacation. It’s too long, it’s too expensive, and it takes place during the least hospitable time of year, when the last thing anyone wants is to be close to someone for any reason other than to murder them for their ice cream sandwich.

And yet, we cling to this burdensome custom nonetheless. Like driving on the right side of the road, overpaying for health care, and mindlessly, inexplicably, shopping the day after Christmas, it is an unshakeable tradition, in America, to take summers off from school.

It’s what we do. I get that.

Now, would some explain to me why do we do it?

Oh sure, I’ve no problem gleaning on my own why we started doing it. Simply applying general common sense and my own caffeine-based powers of imagination, it would seem logical to say that the origins of the summer vacation have their roots in our early agricultural economy, some cultural leftovers from our European ancestry, and the technological inability in those dark, pre-air-conditioned days to turn hot into cool.

Sound good to you?

Sure it does.

And…um…which of these reasons still hold true today?

Right.

The worst thing about summer vacation is the kids’ constant needling and whining for me to take them somewhere. It’s almost like they want me to be an asshole to them.

Some random child with my last name: Dad? Can we go to (a place that is not our house) (during a time when the sun is up)?

Me: Hell, no. Are you crazy? We’ll all die. Go watch TV.

I might feel differently about summer vacation if I didn’t live in Texas. Vacationing in the summer, in Texas, is like holding an AA convention on Bourbon Street during Mardi Gras; there’s simply no chance of achieving the desired outcome.

Granted, my experience is limited to summertime in Texas. I’ve no idea what July in New Hampshire is like; it may be delightful. But, we have an expression here in the Lone Star State that, I think, is on point. It goes something like this:

So what? I don’t live in New Hampshire. What has New Hampshire ever done for me? Fuck off, New Hampshire. Would somebody, please, bring me a beer before I commit a crime?

To be sure, kids need a break from school. And I’m in no way endorsing year-round school; I get enough bad news from those people during the nine months I have to deal with them already.

But, honestly, how many of us are really taking summer family vacations? By which, I mean loading up the Country Squire station wagon and spending a month or so on the road, eating baloney sandwiches, buying beef jerky at roadside stands, and taking Polaroids in front of the Grand Canyon.

Before you answer that you do, in fact, take such vacations, take a moment to imagine how much more enjoyable your Eisenhower-era fantasy road trip would be if you could actually roll down the Country Squire’s windows and breathe in nature’s bounty without scorching the lining of your lungs?

I’m just saying, nearly every one of our country’s National Parks are open in March. And October. Same goes for hotels, interstates, and airports. Ours is a year-round economy.

We could do this, America. There’s no reason not to. Nobody can afford a month-long vacation, much less three months on the road. Heck, most of us can’t afford the gas it takes to drive to Dallas and back.

Speaking of things we can’t afford, schools are air-conditioned now, so why am I paying to keep my children comfortable when there’s a perfectly good, taxpayer-funded, ice house right down the street?? Where’s this “Nanny State” I hear so much about?

And, lastly, minor children aren’t bringing in the summer harvest in 2014, are they? So why are structuring our entire society around a practice which no longer exists? (Not to harp on it, but could some please confirm for me that minor children aren’t bringing in the summer harvest in 2014? With the Koch Brothers running things, this isn’t something I can just take for granted.)

It’s settled, then. Let’s demand that the meager dozen or so weeks we’re given to bond as families take place at a time of year not known for heat-induced mental illness and an annual up-tick in violent crime.

Let’s do summer in the spring. Or we could go 50/50: six weeks in spring, six weeks in fall.

I heard that’s what they’re doing in New Hampshire.

© 2014 Lee B. Weaver