Originally published in the Grand Rapids Business Journal, May 16, 2005.

It's almost summer reading season. What? Summer reading season. You know, the honored tradition of saving certain novels for summer. Huh? For summer when you take a few weeks of vacation to relax, to enjoy life, to laze on the beach or by a pool with plenty of time to read a good nov--, oh... I see where I lost you. Nobody actually does that anymore. Sigh...

You know, having grown up in Flint, Michigan, it's hard not to be nostalgic at this time of year. Back in the day, everybody worked for or with General Motors, and so everybody had, like, five or six weeks of vacation and holidays out the wazoo. And even the most hardline white-collar desk jockey didn't say boo about them damn unions when it came to all the time-off they negotiated for themselves (and, therefore, everybody else). The line worker got July off, so the accountant got July off -- that's how it worked. Sure they built some gawd-awful cars. Sure we paid a lot of money for those gawd-awful cars. Sure we hated having to replace those gawd-awful cars every three years when they turned to rust and faded vinyl. But, dude! Six friggin' weeks of *paid* vacation! Swa-eeet!

Yes, I know, it's better that we have progressed. Things have to progress; we're Americans. We don't stay still. We move on. We innovate. We improve. We dispose, and we are not terribly sentimental about what we leave behind. But now I've owned American-made cars that are stable and reliable into their 10th year, and I guess that's pretty sweet, too.

So as you attempt to shoehorn your summer vacation into a long weekend and are driving about at light speed in your quest to power-relax, may I make a suggestion? Substitute the traditional novel with a book on tape/CD/MP3. It's a terrific way to experience a great story and maybe take the stress level down a notch or two. We listened to "Where the Red Fern Grows" by Wilson Rawls on our drive back from Florida last month. What a great book. It's about a boy growing up in the Ozark Mountains during the Depression and his two hound dogs, Ol' Dan and Li'l Ann. Thinkin' about loyal doggies is what got me started on this week's comic....

Oh, and if you do go with "Where the Red Fern Grows," plan on some tears at the end, so try to time it so you arrive someplace where you can get a hug. Just to let you know, most gas station cashiers do not want to hug.