Matzav Inbox: The Insanity of Summer Schedule – Husbands in the City, Wives in the Mountains
Dear Matzav Inbox,
Every year, as sure as the traffic clogs Route 17, we get treated to the same tired charade: families pack up for the “summer in the country,” only for husbands to vanish back to the city by Monday morning, leaving behind wives to play single parent all week long. Then, come Thursday night, these husbands trickle back up for a quick 48-hour reunion, if that.
This bizarre ritual, so widely accepted in our frum community, is not cute. It’s not “reality.”
It’s dysfunction parading as normalcy, and it’s time someone said it out loud.
Let’s stop pretending this makes sense. We are talking about spouses living apart for two entire months. That’s eight weeks of being disconnected, out of sync, and physically absent. And for what? So that the wives can “sit in the circle” yapping away all day and take walks around the colony loop while their husbands sit in traffic, eat takeout alone, and fall asleep in their Brooklyn or Lakewood home with nobody to talk to but the fan?
We’ve normalized something that is, at its core, completely unnatural and, frankly, a bit insane.
What exactly are we teaching our children? That marriage is a part-time job? That it’s okay for Totty to be a ghost all week and magically reappear just in time to make Kiddush? That a real normal relationship in marriage is optional during the summer?
We wonder why kids are confused. Look no further than this ridiculous arrangement.
And don’t tell me, “It’s just for the summer.” That’s two months of distance, of miscommunication, of drift. Two months of wives hanging out in the bungalow colony in “make believe world.”
And don’t kid yourself—it affects marriages. Absence does not make the heart grow fonder when the only thing growing is resentment.
There is something disturbingly casual about how we’ve embraced this setup. We speak about shalom bayis from the pulpit, about building strong homes and prioritizing family, and then we collectively nod along as thousands of couples live apart for 80% of the summer.
We treat this as a luxury, as if splitting the family in half for ten weeks is a badge of middle-class honor.
It’s not. It’s unhealthy.
And let’s talk about the absurdity of the “Thursday night culture.” These men aren’t coming up for a quiet Shabbos. They’re arriving for a whirlwind of chaos: three-hour traffic, maybe a barbecue and some bug spray, then davening, and by Sunday afternoon, they’re already mentally back in Flatbush.
That’s not quality time. That’s pretending.
This is not to say that every family situation is the same, or that every working man can telecommute from a hammock in Monticello. But this isn’t about exceptions. It’s about the normalization of a lifestyle that has spiraled way out of control. We’ve created a community standard where the nuclear family lives fractured for an entire season in the name of comfort and convenience, or because “everyone is doing it.” How pathetic.
And there’s more to write about what goes on in the city when the husbands are left hanging out each night, but I’d rather not get into that.
Let’s stop whitewashing this. Let’s call it what it is: a breakdown in priorities.
Marriage is not a weekend arrangement. Parenting is not a part-time gig. Family is not something you commute to. And pretending that this summer setup is “ideal” or “the best of both worlds” is just a cover for a situation that is increasingly strained, lonely, and wrong.
It’s time to rethink what we’ve accepted as “normal.”
Because this?
This isn’t normal.
Sincerely,
Saying the Brutal Truth
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