OCEAN ISLE BEACH – I’ll be on vacation for the next two weeks, spending much of the time here in Southeastern North Carolina with what seems like a million or so of my fellow Americans.

I’ve never vacationed well. As a matter of fact, I haven’t taken a true summer vacation in several years, preferring to catch a weekend here or there during the off-season – or, to be frank, perhaps a stray afternoon during business drips. But as professional and personal pressures had finally intruded on my cozy routine, it was time to take a break.

My longtime ambivalence towards vacations appears to be part of my cultural tradition, or so argued University of Virginia professor Cindy Aron in her book Working at Play: A History of Vacations in the United States. “Americans have struggled with the notion of taking time off from work,” Aron wrote. Suspicious of leisure, they “have engaged in a love/hate battle with their vacations.”

Aron was writing mostly about the 18th, 19th, and early 20th centuries, but you can still see evidence of this internal conflict among American vacationers today. Modern technologies allow them to, in effect, bring their offices with them to the mountains, lake, or beach – and many do so. They just can’t seem to leave their work behind. It’s sad, really.

(Got to make a note to thank JLF’s computer guy for the local modem hookup for my laptop.)

The summer vacation does have a fascinating history. Wealthy people pioneered the concept, as they often do with innovations in technology, organization, or behavior. (They can afford to, in part because they can afford to flop.) Eventually, as the proliferation of the personal automobile and other developments allowed less-affluent folks to head off on summer getaways, their previous cultural and even religious hang-ups about diligence and frivolity began to yield to the call of the open road.

One of the most humorous elements of this history is how early travelers justified their trips. They weren’t taking “vacations”. They were going to “health resorts” or “investigating business opportunities.” Denial was the rule of the day. Fortunately, in my case I can say exactly what I’m doing: getting away from all those responsibilities and deadlines for a while.

(Better check the word count for this column. Hmm, guess I should save some material for tomorrow’s.)

Shear off the psychological fur, and what you have here is an example of the economic concept of opportunity cost. On the one hand, spending time at play is, for most people, an attractive prospect. But it doesn’t have infinite value. Working is also an attractive prospect. It is valuable to us for the money we earn as well as for other benefits we derive from it, such as the pride of accomplishing a task or the acquaintances and friends we meet.

Finding a healthy balance between work and play means summing up these competing benefits and considering the ways in which they interact – such as working to earn enough cash this year so that next year you can take that trip you’ve always dreamed about, or taking time off to recharge your batteries so you can be more productive at work.

You know, like I’m doing right now.

Recharging, I mean. The laptop.

Hood is president of the John Locke Foundation.