I wish today was raining and cold. Instead it’s sunny and warm, almost the perfect summer day, no signs of fall weather other than the view of decay in the leaves surrounding our little island camp in the Adirondacks. Instead of packing up and leaving, it’s a day that feels like we should be waterskiing, canoeing, or painting in my little wooden electric boat. But I’ve done those things throughout this summer, which seemed to go by faster than most — we normally leave here much later in the fall. The loons are calling out, in their eerie way, as if to say goodbyeeeee, we’ll miss youuuuuuu. See you next springgggggg. 

Texas Tea

Like an episode of The Beverly Hillbillies, we’ve made a couple of trips with the boat stacked with all our stuff, our bags, our summer projects, and some of our kids’ stuff. I packed up some of the machinery in my woodshop and all of my painting gear, plus a dozen or so paintings I want to take home to finish for an upcoming show. Our little outboard can barely keep up as we chug across the lake with stuff stacked high. Thankfully no boats are making big waves, or we would find some of our stuff at the bottom of the lake. That already happened once this summer when a motor fell off our old metal rowboat.


Fare Thee Well

Saying goodbye is so hard, but I tell myself there’s always next year. But of course, someday next year won’t come. So, when we get in the boat one last time with our last load, we’ll drive around and take a look at our place from the water, taking it all in, and hoping we get a lot more summers in this magical place we call home.

The Last Goodbye

Not to be morbid, but I treat goodbyes differently these days. I love my friends and family members, and when I say goodbye, I make a point to tell myself this might be the last time I see them. That way I make sure to let them know how much they mean to me. I don’t want them to go away forever not knowing how I feel. Far too many have slipped away without that opportunity. Too many times I wish I had talked to them more. Too often I think about it but don’t get around to it. Then we get the call that they’ve moved on.

What about the people in my life I see all the time? Do they know how I feel? Or am I so used to seeing them, having them always there, that I don’t give them the love as if it were my last time? I don’t want to wake up to find someone has left without my having made sure there’s no more I need to say.

What about you?

What if you treated everyone as if it’s the last time you’ll see them?

A year ago this week, an acquaintance of mine left his house to run an errand and returned to find his wife of 30 years had collapsed and was unconscious. She eventually died. He is kicking himself because he was taking her for granted, probably left the house without saying anything or giving her a quick peck on the cheek. 

A Sudden Feeling

Earlier this week, I woke up and while I was having my coffee, I had an overwhelming feeling that a family member from another time in my life was going to have a funeral. I immediately flashed to the oldest of three sisters. It must be her, I was thinking, because she is so much older than the others. Two hours later I received a text that indeed one of the sisters was dying and just went into hospice, but it was not the oldest one. I immediately flashed back to the last time I saw her, and how the last time I was in town I did not go out of my way to go visit because I thought there would be more time to see her — after all, she’s young. 

It’s a little odd to have such an overwhelming feeling, but I think it runs in the family. 

Clear Vision

My Grandfather Goad once told me that when he was a little boy, his great-grandfather was bedridden at their farm in Tennessee. “Come in here, boys,” he said. “You get on your bikes and drive down the road to Mrs. Jenkins’s house. I think you’ll find her on the porch in her rocking chair, holding her baby. She’ll be dead. You run down and fetch that baby so your mother can take care of her.” They both rolled their eyes before getting on their bikes, which they did out of respect to their great-grandfather. But upon arrival, Mrs. Jenkins was dead and holding her baby. 

A Lake Goodbye

We have known some people here on the lake for over three decades. Some are friends, some only acquaintances, but every year when we return, someone we know never returns. Some have sold out and moved away, others can no longer get time for the summer, and others are prevented from returning because of health issues or worse. It’s always sad that we did not get to say goodbye and let them know how much they mean to us. 

So your challenge today …  go out of your way to show your appreciation for the people in your life. Say what needs to be said, don’t wait. And get in the habit of telling people every time you see them. Make sure they understand what they mean to you.

Make sure you have no regrets.

Eric Rhoads

PS: This has been an amazing week. I hosted hundreds of artists in 14 different countries and 49 states for my four-day online Pastel Live conference. What a joy it is to see these people light up with “aha moments” when they see some of the top masters in the world painting. It will happen again next year, and already most of them are signed up for 2025. Thanks to everyone who attended.

I’m grateful for the amazing team I have at Streamline, which is my company. They put things like this together and make them soar.

Something Brand New

Often when we have an event like this, we use it as a chance to make major announcements. This week we announced a new painting retreat for those who want to escape winter weather and go painting in a nice warm and sunny climate.

I have a spring retreat (PaintAdirondacks) and a fall retreat next week in Monterey (Fall Color Week), but the new one is called WINTER ESCAPE, and it will be held in February in St. Augustine, Florida, at about the time when we’re all sick of winter. I’m pretty excited because I love doing painting retreats where we all get together to paint for a week.

This is brand new, and so far only a handful of seats are gone. Because it’s new, we’re giving a $500 discount to the first 50 people who sign up before Thanksgiving. It’s limited to 100 people, and we’re taking over a hotel in downtown St. Augustine near all the great painting spots. (www.winterartescape.com)

Our next online conference is Realism Live, which is in November. After that, Watercolor Live is in January, then Acrylic Live in March and the Plein Air Convention in Lake Tahoe and Reno in May. I’m visiting there in a couple of weeks to do some prep work.

Have a terrific week. And just so I’ve said it, thank you for the opportunity to serve you every Sunday.