Day 1 of vacation at “The Cabin.” Determined that not one minute of vacation would be wasted, Friday night after work, we packed ourselves, the truck, the car and dogs (and my technology) as we got ready for a few days off.
“We need something to eat,” the Hubster said rather weakly as we headed toward the door. “Where do you want to stop on the way?”
“Not stopping. Gotta go,” I said. I slapped together some sandwich meat between a couple of slices of bread, handed it to him and said,
“Here you go. Eat up.”
We literally stood at the kitchen counter and ate our sandwiches, washed them down with some coffee and ten minutes later, pulled out of the driveway to caravan our way up to the river.
Time was a-wasting.
On the way we stopped in Camden to pick up my 87-year-old mother who was going to stay at the river with us through the weekend. She was packed and standing in the kitchen when we arrived at her house at about 11 p.m.
We loaded her stuff – and her – into my sports car (She loves that. She’s about five feet tall and it’s the easiest car for her to get into and out of. She says, “It’s just my size.”)
By 1 p.m. we were having a snack and getting ready for bed. By 2 a.m. we actually were in bed and on our way to sleep.
The next morning I was up at 6 a.m. – just as if I was at home and had to go to work.
I read for a while, watched the mist lift from the lake and the sun drift up from behind the hill on the opposite shore. I was as happy as a wiener dog digging for moles.
But habits die hard. I suddenly felt out of touch. I checked the house phone – nothing but dead air on the line. It had not been turned on after the winter hiatus. I grabbed my ever-present Blackberry. No signal. I wandered around the porch, holding my personal mobile device in the air in search of a signal. I leaned out the door. I tried the kitchen, and the den.
Finally, next to a lamp sitting on a table between two sofas, I held the BB about two feet above the table and turned it slightly to the left – and got an iffy signal. Any movement outside a two-cubic foot area, and the signal disappeared. And it was a rather awkward position in which to conduct business. By 8 a.m. the others were up and I cooked breakfast. We ate at the big table on the porch as the birds made a racket and hummingbirds sucked at the feeder hanging from the roof overhang.
I checked the Blackberry and found a few e-mails had made it through. I checked the house phone again. I was actually feeling a little frantic, cut-off from the world.
But the dogs started barking and I took them for a stroll around the yard.
A couple of hours later, I made the communication technology rounds again – first checking the house phone and then the BB….no signal at all.
Maybe I could piggyback on a neighbor’s internet service. I pulled out the laptop, and searched around for a signal. Nothing.
The BB again. The house phone. Nothing.
By Day 2, I was chatting with myself about my weird addiction and how I needed to enjoy vacation and forget about work and communicating in any way other than in person.
By Tuesday, the BB got only a glance a couple of times a day (it was deadline day at the newspaper after all). The house phone was a distant memory.
Three days later, connectivity was an afterthought and the world didn’t come to a screeching halt.
But the rockers on the porch worked fine, and the waves splashed on the shore in perfect rhythm and the birds sang a chatty tune.

Contact Judy Watts at 873-9424 or jwatts@journalscene.com.