Our
retreat is called Singer Island and named for Mr. Singer of the sewing machine
company, not for a singer of songs named Bing Crosby. Crosby used to vacation here too, but that's
another story.
Within
Singer Island is a special community named Palm Beach Shores, or “PBS” as we
natives call it. It is in truth an island within the island. We have our own
police department, fire department and a town hall staffed for the most part by
friendly hardworking people. We have a private beach manned by highly qualified
guards, ready in a heartbeat to meet whatever challenges fate may usher in. And
every year fate ushers in a challenge referred to as “Spring Break.” Long ago this interlude in school calendars
was the Easter vacation. However in
today's politically correct environment of super sensitivity to anything and
everything, Easter vacation is gone, and we pass over Passover as well.
Now
we have “Spring Break” which as witnessed here in Florida, runs from New Year's
day to the following Christmas eve. We have an uninterrupted stream of pasty
faced Yankees determined to scorch themselves before they return to their
classrooms in the frozen tundra. We, the bronzed ones, smirk at them before we
revisit the dermatologist’s office where modern-day Vikings slash and burn us
before we return to our cabanas on the beach. Spring Break seems endless. Just
as one liberated group of schoolies departs, another arrives. There are of
course other holidays during the school year. So if you add them all together
your kids are rarely in the classroom. As for college age men and women, well
dear old dad and mom are forking out big time dollars for smallish face time
with teachers. No wonder we lag behind the rest of the world where school and
studying is rightfully viewed as the ticket to success.
The
American Way is play, play, play.
Unhappily in a very competitive world, someday we will be paying a
heart-stopping bill for this Spring Break fun in the sun.
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