UNDER THE MICROSCOPE

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08/22/2004 - 4:57 p.m.

THE LONG HAUL

When it comes to recreation, I usually am not in it for the long haul. You can take me to a baseball game, for example, and, assuming the weather is pleasant and the bugs are not bad, I will enjoy it---but only for the first six or so innings. You can put a putter in my hand and take me to play miniature golf and I will think it wonderful---but only for the first fourteen holes. You can get me in a swimming pool for an hour�but I�ll only really enjoy the first 45 minutes. No, I am not good at the finish, which is why I was so surprised that I enjoyed our vacation in the Poconos right up to the very end.

Usually, I am good for approximately five days of vacation. After five days, I tend to crave routine. I don�t just want any routine. I want my routine. I start thinking about home and pining for home. The problem is even more acute when we are all in one room. I live my life on a different (and earlier) schedule than my teenage daughters and my teenage-at-heart husband. It helped that in the Poconos, we were not all in one room. While the place had its lacks (Can you believe that they charged a 25 cent admission fee every time we went off premises?), they were not the type that got in our way.

But this vacation was different from the usual vacation. For starters, we were in a condo through my parents� timeshare so we had separate bedrooms (except for the girls who slept in the living room) and a kitchen (so I did not have to go out to breakfast and so we could make an occasional dinner.) While the weather was not wonderful, we also had all sorts of activities around, including sufficient indoor activities. Many of the activities involved physical activity: bowling, swimming at the indoor pool, ping pong, miniature golf, rafting, even shopping (which, with Day, was a marathon event as the nearby outlet mall had a lot of teen stores and she needed a fair number of school clothes.)

We also all got along. At some point in my life, I realized that my closest friends were family. Unlike some people, I really like my parents as well as love them. I enjoy their company and conversation. Even so, I had a few surprises. My mother, for example, has always painted herself as not particularly athletic, except for tennis. It�s not true. She picks up sports as she goes along in a way I do not. Her back nine in the first round of miniature golf was superior to her first nine. Mine looked as it always did---uneven and generally bad. Her subsequent games of ping-pong look increasingly good. I had a short remembering curve because I played a lot as a teenager but I remembered and plateaued. My dad, on the other hand, is as unathletic as he says he is.

Mr. Philately relaxed. He was more relaxed than I have seen him in a long time. He did not pick up work materials once, even though he brought them. He loved rafting and canoeing and playing pool. He also liked my Dad�s choice of magazines (although I was the one who traded books with my mom and my dad.)

So, on this vacation, I did something I rarely do. I stayed involved in recreation the whole time. I fell into bed truly tired and I loved it.

This time, I was in it for the long haul.

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