I’m gone, you go, too

I am composing this note as I lie beneath some willows on the shores of Pyramid Lake. Even though I have all the benefits of technology sitting on the passenger seat of my SUV, namely a Compaq iPaq PDA with a keyboard that folds to the size of a pack of playing cards, I’m taking the decompressionist route and writing in my head.

It’s 5:55 a.m., according to my watch, which waits on the dirt beside my cushy Base Camp Thermarest, and I’m oriented so the sun will peak over the mountains beyond the rippled lake directly above my sleeping bag-covered toes.

I feel really, really good, almost light-headed in my dreamy drowsiness.

There’s a momentary shadow, as I consider that this is the first family outing my family has had this summer. I guess it’s the point of this editor’s note that I am reminded, for the moment, that there are a heck of a lot of things that are more important than this job I have. Yes, it’s generally demanding and fun, but I should have been able to take my family away from the summer school, home renovations and swimming lessons for a night or two under the stars.

Still, I’d bet dollars to doughnuts that I’m not the only one who’s sacrificed family for work. There are a bunch of families out there who haven’t had as much fun as they should have this summer.

Not that I’m any epitome of wisdom or anything, but occasionally I latch onto something that may help the populace in general, so here goes. When I head back to Reno in about an hour, my family is going to stay here. I’m going to work for eight or 10 hours and make the hour drive back to the campsite. My family gets the full camping experience; I get the moment of filling emptiness that’ll last me long into the week; and everyone gets reminded once more of what’s really important in our lives.