We’re driving home from our fishing vacation; it’s almost a thousand miles from Winnipeg, where we left our car, to our home in Benton Harbor, Michigan. And it’s two days at best.
For five days we didn’t read a newspaper or see a television newscast. We didn’t listen to talking heads on either side of any debate. We didn’t check the stock market. And, until yesterday afternoon, we didn’t know that rebels are on the final offense in Libya.
I can’t say I felt deprived. In fact, I loved the focus on the present, on our lives, and the lives of the people we met. I even loved the focus on fish. After all, knowing about the sliding stock market or the Libyan rebels didn’t mean we could do anything about it, except feel anguished. And wouldn’t that have detracted from our immediate pleasures?
So I didn’t miss television or that our cell phones didn’t work well or that the paper wasn’t delivered to our front door. I didn’t miss the daily mail or persistent email or even a fax now and then.
As we wend our way home, I’m conscious of these intrusions that are beginning to push our memories aside. Maybe after this vacation we might want to consider what’s really important.
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