Earl picked up the photos from our recent vacation yesterday, and we spent a pleasant hour over cocktails reliving the highlights as they exist in 4 by 6 frames. Overall, I was struck with how few people shots we had and how many Panama Canal shots we had. But then that was the intended highlight of the entire trip.

It did not disappoint.

The idea of building a canal across the relatively narrow Isthmus of Panama in Central America began with the French in 1880. Such a success would lop off seven thousand miles for any ship voyaging from Atlantic to Pacific ports by eliminating the arduous trip around Cape Horn at the bottom of South America.

The French government awarded the contract for the canal’s development to Ferdinand de Lesseps, who had directed the completion of the Suez Canal in 1869. In 1880, de Lesseps was 74 years old and still basking in the glory of his previous accomplishment.

He believed the Panama Canal could be a replica of the Suez, which was built somewhat like a long ditch bridging two oceans. However, he had never been to Panama and did not know that the isthmus where the canal was to be built traversed a mountain range. Digging a mere ditch would have meant leveling mountains to below sea level. Given the times and the current state of knowledge, it was impossible. But de Lesseps did not know this; consequently, the French effort failed. In time, the United States took up the project. By fast forwarding the story, the last chapter is that the Panama Canal opened in 1914.

Unless you’ve been there, Earl’s photos don’t do the Panama Canal justice. It’s not because he isn’t a good photographer. It’s because one needs the back-story to appreciate fully what was overcome before a ship like the one we were on could navigate the locks. There was malaria, lack of technology, and mudslides. There were also clever men who determined that the big ditch approach would never work; instead they created a lock and dam system that is as brilliant today as it was at the turn of the last century.

The problem with vacations is that they require a return to reality; and I, for one, return slowly. This is why I want to be sleeping in my own bed for at least one night and have one day to myself before returning to work.

My Mother, on the other hand, would jet in at two in the morning, drive to her house, and sleep a couple hours before rising to be on the job. She preferred to milk every ounce of pleasure from her trip rather than have a down day at home.

My mother’s regime notwithstanding, yesterday I slept till nine o’clock, took my time unpacking, went for a long walk, and generally tried to remember phone numbers and other codes that had receded far from my conscious mind. I even had to look up my son’s telephone number to get it right. I dipped my mental toe in the waters of memory, recalling that I do indeed work for fredflare.com and that I blog every day in the hope of making it big. I also dabble at piano and like to keep a tidy home.

In the days to come, the memory of this wonderful vacation will recede from my mind; and I’ll be more committed to life in the present. I’ll enjoy piano and writing. When Spring is really around the corner, I’ll miss the sun less. In the meantime, I reveled in the reality of that precious day between vacation and regular routine.