Curing the Blahs

My wife and I weren’t talking. We weren’t fighting per se, but the conversations didn’t have the same snap, crackle, or dare I say, pop of our first twelve years of courtship/marriage.

Voices weren’t raised; harsh glares were seldom sent. Actually, hardly a peep was heard around the house at all when our rambunctious boys weren’t awake. Those kids’ laughter could fill a stadium, but the Mrs. and I weren’t laughing, at least not as wholeheartedly as we used to. It seemed that all of our energies and enthusiasm were focused on our two boys, the kitchen remodeling, and those slew of addictive design shows on the Home & Garden network (her, not me). Somewhere between Big Wheels and backsplash tile, a sort of unexpected silence fell over the two of us. Nobody had anything to say. Was this the abyss of familiarity that all couples eventually fall into?

I’ve done enough problem-solving to know that not every situation can be fixed sitting around the dinner table. Sometimes, a little distance is needed in order to gain the necessary perspective. I quickly realized the Mrs. needed to get away, hit the road, get lost, take a long walk off a short pier—and she needed to do it with me.

Getting Away
Come on, it hasn’t been so long that you’ve forgotten the positive effects of heading somewhere warm and sunny. Families reconnect, adventures are there to be had, and the problems that seemed so close, so overwhelming before, magically begin to take a realistic shape when given a little distance. We needed a spontaneous getaway and we needed it yesterday. And maybe you do, too.

What are the signs? A ho-hum attitude. A nagging feeling that the minutia of water bills and lawn mowing and trips to the store are taking over. You become a bore, a grouch, an unpopular lunch date with friends. More telling perhaps is one’s newfound emphasis on such things as “must-see TV,” your son’s matchbox collection, and spying on the neighbor’s cat.

When you can’t remember the color of your wife’s swimsuit, frankly it’s been too long since you’ve gone anywhere. If the family photo album doesn’t contain a single picture after 1996, you better go somewhere— and bring lots of film. If you get disproportionately excited about a visit to the DMV, it’s time to leave town.

Family Conference
Here’s a test to conduct for the next family sit-down. Pipe up and ask if anyone wants to take a trip, and then prepare for the mob scene afterward. Within five minutes, your spouse will probably have downloaded an encyclopedia of destinations, rates, and packages from the Internet. One of the kids will start pawing a globe, searching for the perfect spot. Expect the family teen to phone a friend and then another and quite possibly a third to share the news. The mere thought of a getaway is indeed powerful, like a latent volcano looking to erupt. And like the villagers down below, it’s time to scurry someplace new.

I saw singer Warren “Werewolves of London” Zevon on David Letterman a while back. Given three months to live, he was working hard to finish an album, reconnect with people, eek out every day. I’ll never forget what he said when Dave asked if he had any advice “Enjoy every sandwich,” he said. I hear those New England lobster rolls sure are nice. Get my drift?

There were no protests in my household when I floated the idea of travel a few weeks ago. The collective mood quickly lifted as thoughts focused on where to, for how long, and who with. It took awhile but we found a nice spot to reboot our collective systems. The shared experience of planning the trip got us back in a talkative mood. Powerful stuff at work here. So where are we going? A few hints: the country’s most perfect weather, beaches, Southern California, a world-famous zoo. Oh, and you know I’m good for extra avocados on all those club sandwiches. I’ll make sure of it.

Brent Peterson is a writer on RVing and camping and the author of a newly revised and updated edition of The Complete Idiots’ Guide to RVing.