Summer Staycation

Back in the winter, weary of the icy cold, I asked the Quaker meeting I pastor if I could take off the month of July. I anticipated spending the time at our farm in southern Indiana, or taking a motorcycle trip along the Ohio River, or driving to Maine with my wife to see the house of E.B. White, the author of Charlotte’s Web. Toward the end of winter, my right hip began hurting and now I can’t sit for more than an hour at a time, which rules out car trips and motorcycle rides. The only thing of long duration my body can tolerate is lying down, so I’ll be staying home, comfortably situated in our screenhouse hammock, a stack of books at my side, while my wife hurries back and forth from the house, plying me with food and drink. Unless she reads this, then she’ll be in the hammock and I’ll be plying. But I’ll still enjoy the best part of vacation, which is its anticipation. No trip anywhere has ever measured up to the dreams preceding it.

Several years ago, I spent the winter and spring planning a motor­cycle trip on the Great River Road along the Mississippi River, mapping out various stops, reading books about the river and the cities and towns along it. In my dreams, the ride was pure perfection. In reality, it rained every mile of every day, except for the last day when the clouds parted and the sun emerged a hundred miles from home, just long enough to give me a sunburn.

July is the most popular month for travel in the United States. If you’re vacationing this summer, you started thinking about your trip back in January — arranging the time off work, saving your money, planning your destination, going online to scout places of interest, and telling your friends where you’re going so they’ll be jealous.

Vacations take a lot of time and money. So let me save you both and suggest you stay home this summer. Go to bed late. Sleep in. Eat out. Shut off your phone. Read a good book. Better yet, purchase all the books I’ve written so I can have enough money for next year’s vacation. Don’t cheap out and buy them at a yard sale. Pay full price at a local bookstore, so my wife and I can travel to California to see the redwoods.

We’ve been planning our trip to California since we married 42 years ago. We’ve read books about redwoods, watched redwood documentaries, and interviewed hundreds of people who’ve seen them in person. The only thing we haven’t done is save money for the trip.

If you buy all my books, we’ll invite you to our house and show you our vacation slides. Here we are standing in a tunnel carved through a redwood tree. Here’s the Golden Gate Bridge. Here’s the nice officer who pulled us over for going the wrong way down Interstate 5. Here we are in jail. In my dreams of vacation, I never get in trouble. In reality, it happens with startling
­frequency.

It’s always fun to watch young people plan their vacations. Their optimism warms my heart. But let them miss one flight connection and they fall to pieces, while the seasoned traveler goes to the nearest airport bar to relax. Here we are leaving for the airport. Here we are enjoying a few drinks while we wait for the next flight. Here’s the nice officer giving us a Breathalyzer. Here we are in jail. Here’s my church finding out and firing me.

Trust me, you’re better off staying home.

Philip Gulley is a Quaker pastor and author of 22 books, including the Harmony and Hope series, featuring Sam Gardner.

This article is featured in the July/August 2026 issue of The Saturday Evening Post. Subscribe to the magazine for more art, inspiring stories, fiction, humor, and features from our archives.