What I Learned on Summer Vacation

On Sunday night I sat in my office and looked out my window to the lights of the State College Spikes game. August was already eight days old, and just a few weeks remained in this summer. The day before, a letter from the State College School District had arrived with the school menus for the first month of school.

As a kid, I thought August was the cruelest month, where summer came to die. It was the month when “Back to School Sales” announced the approaching academic year—new teachers, new classes and the end of care-free days and homework-less nights.

Now, as a parent, I see it as children passing to another grade, marking another step in the inevitable march toward the day when their own children leave home.

Each summer I set a few goals for the days in July when my job slows down. This summer I set and accomplished a few realistic goals, but more importantly I re-learned a valuable lesson on my summer vacation.

All of my life I’ve retained a lesson I learned at Penn State. On the practice field there’s a blue line you cross as you step onto the field. The blue line is a tangible reminder that you are crossing into a place where all of your focus and all of your attention should be on the practice ahead.

When a student-athlete crosses the Blue Line for practice there is nothing he can do out there about his schoolwork, his family problems, his girlfriend’s problems or anything else. The only thing he can influence is his performance on the practice field.

But ‘The Lesson of the Blue Line wasn’t just limited to the practice field. We were taught to imagine blue lines in all other parts of our lives: in a classroom, or a church service, or when we entered our family’s homes. It was a reminder to focus on whatever task was at hand—the Blue Line was another way of achieving the goal to “Be in the Moment.”

Without intending to, I re-learned that lesson this summer. I was applying the Blue Line to my professional life on the practice field, in meetings, writing columns or my involvement in politics. Where my Blue Line was breaking down was in my family life.

I would be with my children, but my mind would wander to an upcoming game this fall or to something I wanted to read or something I wanted to write about. I was there with my family, but my mind was churning, focusing on something miles away.

Something triggered me to change my thinking. It started at the beach on our first day away this summer. I stood there at the water’s edge and let the waves wash over my feet. As the waves retreated I felt my feet sinking as the water pulled the sand away.

It was something I had done so many times as a child and here it had been years since I had taken a moment to just stand there and enjoy the ocean’s simple ebb and flow. I called my kids over and we stood in the water as the waves came in then retreated.

The rest of the day we built a sand castle—actually three because the incoming tide forced two relocations. The next day I took a long walk down the beach with them. My daughters both held my hand as we walked. I wondered how many more days until they’d be too old to want to hold my hand walking on the beach.

As we walked I caught sight of something under the water, a sand dollar. In all my years of beach going I had never found one.

The rest of my summer family time was the same. I mentally crossed a blue line and left my cell phone and text messages on the other side of that line. Whether it was at the Creamery, or at Black Moshannon, or at the pool, or watching a sunset, or roasting marshmallows with a full moon over Mount Nittany overhead—I focused on the here and now.

I made a concerted effort to be there in mind and spirit at those moments and succeeded.

At night I lie in bed thinking about summer slipping away this month and how each passing day is one day closer to the next phase of my family’s life. What I’ve learned is that these family moments matter and are what really counts.

As summer vacation ended and the season started I found myself happier and able to build blue lines in all phases of my life. What I re-learned on summer vacation was a lesson learned years ago while playing a game. That lesson is even more valuable in the game that matters most to me in my life now—my life as a father and a husband.