I’ve been a fan of Henry David Thoreau for more than a decade. Didn’t read him in grade school or college. I came across his works and thinking later in life, and found a piece of him in me. Equal parts poet, essayist, biologist, ecologist, transcendentalist, anarchist, abolitionist and a creator of civil disobediance whose writings later were followed by Leo Tolstoy, Mahatma Gandhi and Martin Luther King, I believe any free spirited thinker can say they feel his work.

So it was when we were driving down I-495 in Central Massachusetts this week and came across a sign for the Walden Pond State Reservation, I knew I just had to stop.

I knew it would be an idyllic place, this campsite and woods that Thoreau spent two years, two months and two days in the 1840s exploring, journaling, and living a solitary life. I’d read some of his works, and while the details were a bit fuzzy, the big picture revealed a place I had to be.

“You’re going to see a lot of ‘earthy’ people,” I forewarned Robbie. “People in Birkenstocks and women in peasant skirts who still follow his writings.”

So Robbie, Nicole and I went. And we parked in a lot with far too many vehicles to be just members of The Thoreau Society. Whatever. We were all on the same plane.

And as I rounded a corner from the parking lot, I saw it… Read More »

Today was my birthday. It’s the 19th such event enjoyed from a home office.

This time around, my home office was an RV, and my “cake” was ambrosia. I love that stuff — a Southern favorite made of mini marshmallows, mandarin oranges, shredded coconut and sour cream (among other ingredients, depending on the maker).

No candles were lit. No songs were sung (except for my sister-in-law and nephew, who sang it via cell). Just a plastic fork from Panda Express at Carowinds — the Carolinas theme park where we spent the day.

I haven’t had ambrosia in a dozen years — and certainly not as a birthday dish. But more to the point, I never would have enjoyed this delicacy if we hadn’t gotten off Interstate 85 to spend two nights at Paynes Creek Campground. Sure, there were a dozen RV parks we could have chosen along the interstate. But Paynes Creek seemed cool at the time. And it lived up to its billing. And then some… Read More »

Before we left home on Home Office Highway, I made sure to let my clients and family know the boundaries we’d all be facing. I told them I’d be working “part time.” That meant, at least to me, that I’d ply my own hours — usually before the “traditional” workday or on a spotty, unpredictable schedule throughout.

But something funny happened on the highway: The home officer’s own expectations seem out of whack. I thought I’d be working very little. But I find myself working a fair amount. Less than at home, for sure. But more than I’d expected. I’m at the dinette table early (nothing unusual there), and checking email — in the RV, at gas stops (plenty of time there to fetch, read and reply), while standing atop Stone Mountain outside Atlanta.

I guess I’m the one who missed the work-expectations memo. Read More »

For a home officer, the concept of the Mobile Home Office seems the epitome of “Independence.”

A professional who can take off for several weeks without worry of boss, client or customer repurcussions. A husband and dad who has learned to balance home and work — and earn the admiration of family in the process.

A man who can load up an RV, create a home office on the road — and never miss a beat as he tours the nation’s highways and byways; who can meet deadlines by seamlessly weaving them into the travel plans and around the family’s needs and expectations; who can keep clients loyal and unconcerned about deadlines and deliverables; who can create lasting memories for the family — ones they will look back on with smiles and fondness in years to come. Read More »