Wee Wisdom: Tech Vacations Can Go a Long Way

The final week of our summer vacation was spent on a tiny landmass eight miles off the New Hampshire coast.

The Star Island conference center is a rough hybrid between a family summer camp and the Catskills resort featured in the movie “Dirty Dancing.” The accommodations are far from luxurious, and as such, the island has intentionally remained an escape from many modern technological conveniences such as TV or computers.

On our first full day, Tanya caught up with an old friend. “I don’t think the kids miss their screen time,” she said.

Oceanic 20

Ella, my fifth-grader, interrupted her own conversation with a brand-new friend and offered enthusiastically, “Definitely! This is way more fun!”

Our room: Oceanic 20

Apparently, it took only one day to ease Ella away from the addictive comforts of technology. Nevertheless, as we took our seats on the flight home a week later, a few short hours removed from our peaceful haven, the kids begged to watch TV. We acquiesced, and they sat rapt and silent for most of the flight. I wondered if one week away from the trappings of modern society would affect my kids’ cravings for technology over the long haul. Could a short vacation from technology really make that much of a difference in a child’s growth?


I talk a good game, but let’s be clear: I understand why technology is needed, that it helps my life immensely, and that our dependence on it is only going to expand going forward. Still, I firmly believe that children learn life’s most valuable skills from actual human interaction and pursuits that don’t involve screens. Which is why I tend to jump at any opportunity to achieve this.

Our time away consisted of a whirlwind of interpersonal communication, and was spent in large part savoring the smells, sounds and sights of our maritime milieu. We forged deep connections with many old and new friends, as well as with each other. We read, sang, danced and watched sunsets. I stretched on the grass while music wafted from the long hotel porch. Ella played guitar and sang in the island talent show, with Sophia on backup vocals. Tanya and I laughed our way through the basics of improvisational theater. We didn’t check email or make a single phone call.

And Ella and Sophia begged to return next year.

Sophia happily not surfing the web

Motherboard mastery cannot help us capture the indescribable sensations of love or spiritual fulfillment. Time spent in front of man-made devices will never improve our self-esteem, and it won’t make us more empathetic. It certainly won’t help us learn the values of respect and charity. But a week in a one-star hotel, eating in a communal dining room, surrounded by screaming gulls and bathed in sunshine reflected off the Atlantic did all of those things.

By the end of the week, we were equal parts exhausted and nourished, and recharged for the coming year. I’ll never know for sure whether this particular vacation made a permanent difference in our children’s lives.

But of this I am certain: Ella and Sophia have yet to plead for an entire week of video games.

Tanya pulling a bow

Wee Wisdom: Isn't it Funny How Kids Know Just What to Say?

A couple of weeks ago, about an hour before Tanya and I were about to leave the house on a Friday night, Sophia asked me why the baby sitter was coming over.

I told her I was going to try stand-up comedy at an open mic in Old Town, and that I was really nervous.

“What’s stand-up comedy?” Sophia asked.

“It’s where you get up on stage and try to tell jokes to make people laugh.”

“Dad, you’re the funniest guy I know,” she said. “You make me laugh, like, every minute of the day. You’ll do great!”

I could tell by my 7-year-old’s face that she was not, um, joking. Yet, while her comment allowed me to breathe easy for a few seconds, my nerves didn’t fully settle down. Why didn’t the compliment from my daughter make me feel better about my chances?

Confession time: I sometimes ask my 7- and 10-year-old daughters for their opinions just to make them feel good, not because I think they will provide sage counseling. They’re just kids, after all. They couldn’t possibly have enough experience or intellect to be able to offer good advice. Right?

I’ve always been the independent type. The upside of such a personality is having a high level of self-confidence, knowing that I can always find answers within myself and accomplish my goals. The downside is it’s often difficult for me to trust others, which can lead to undesirable consequences.

I’ve started to realize this over the years, and I’m now more apt to accept help than I ever was. It’ll probably be something I work on for the rest of my life.

My initial thought was, “How could this kid possibly know what it takes to succeed?” But children offer an entirely different perspective than we adults are used to hearing. As I went over my notes before the show, worried I would forget my routine and die a horrible death in front of all those people, I started to understand.

Yes, Sophia is biased (she doesn’t know that many funny people). But her wisdom emanates from — not in spite of — her relative ignorance of social norms and expectations. She could have done what many adults might have and retreated quietly, fearful of saying the wrong thing. But no, my soon-to-be second-grader somehow knew what, if anything, might allay my anxiety: encouragement. I know this because Tanya, the person I trust the most, told me the same thing about an hour later, and it made me feel better, or at least capable of finishing my set.

Despite my nerves, I summoned the courage to climb on stage as planned. Unfortunately, Sophia’s prediction was wrong. I got a few laughs, but for the most part, I heard the uncomfortable sound of moving air—"crickets"—as they say. I left the stage slightly embarrassed, and the victory of simply getting up there felt somewhat hollow.

Sophia never asked me how the show went, thank goodness. I still might be the funniest guy she knows, at least for now.