The Vacationer in Chief Surrenders

“Terms: 20 guineas per annum. No extras, no vacations.”

--Charles Dickens,

“Nicholas Nickleby,” 1839

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August. The days grow noticeably shorter, if hardly less wacky. The plasmic fires of the sun still have the final say, though, overheating our noggins, wringing the juices right out of us, igniting yearnings for seashores, shaded forests, open roads or even, say, the quiet, hard-baked brushlands of Texas. August and vacation.

Sounds good, but in fact vacation has always been a shaky proposition in this country. Now it looks like the whole dreamy notion that a portion of the year belongs to us alone has finally come unraveled. Our foremost defender of vacation has surrendered. He’s yielded to the Calvinist ankle-biters in Washington. Regrettably, he’s lost his gumption to relax. And we’ll all pay the price.

George Bush is off for a “working vacation.” And his hirelings at the White House want us to underline the working part. Grab your fly rod and charge up your cell phone.

Mr. Bush, meet Mr. Dickens.

According to the Smithsonian Institution, a philosopher named Hildemar of Corbie offered a definition of vacation back in the year 845: “Vacare means to relinquish one thing and to replace it with some other ... manual work being set aside.”

A working vacation is like a working night’s sleep. An incongruous idea on its face. And for what end, exactly?

OK, there’s plenty happening in the world these days to make us nervous. But there’s also such a thing as gaining perspective. Time to think. Time to clear one’s head by not thinking. For presidents too.

Whose idea was this, anyway, to turn Bush’s vacation into another controversy?

Anthropologists tell us that Indians near Cape Flattery in Washington state are owed credit for being first in North America to take off the month of August. No fishing, no berry-picking. Not until the 1760s, though, when people began to gather in the cities and amass wealth, did the modern idea of the American vacation catch on. Naturally, most people were too guilt-ridden to admit right away that they were loafing. Instead, they went off to the country for their “health,” which ironically turns out to be the same thing.

Later, the Methodists devised a religious justification for play on the shores of Lake Chautauqua in New York--summer gatherings that allowed families to swim, picnic, sunbathe and learn about art and music in the service of the Lord.

The advent of railroads, automobiles, the rise of the middle class and unionism all contributed to the popular spread of vacations. Bit by bit, Americans found themselves challenging the wisdom of that pinch-penny old taskmaster Ben Franklin, who insisted that “leisure is time for doing something useful.”

What did he know about it anyway?

For a short while, leisure time was a sign of progress. What was the point of all these labor-saving devices, anyway, if not to save us from so much labor?

True, Americans never quite embraced vacation with the gusto of the rest of the industrialized world. Our average vacation of 13 days per year, whether you take it in a gulp or sip it here and there as I do, leaves us the laughingstock of all of Europe and plenty of other places. The Italians, for instance, average 42 days’ vacation a year, but they haven’t had to build a nation out of wilderness lately either.

Anyway, progress made a U-turn here about a generation ago. I don’t recall that we were asked our opinion. But suddenly, huff huff, we had to outwork the world--more and faster, no matter what the price.

I’m not being light when I say one of the best ideas that Bush offered the country was his challenge to this single-mindedness in our purpose. He has spoken repeatedly of the need for balance in life. Part of him was born to goof off, and it isn’t the worst part either. He made the point many other ways, whether promoting volunteerism or championing the family.

He got right up to the point when you have to lead by example. Then he backed away. You can blame the critics or you can blame the president for heeding them. Either way, the message comes down to this: It’s August, grab that laptop, get your tool bag. There’s work to be done.