Laughter echoed across the lake. The sound of giggling children jumping into the water lasted all day. That night around midnight, teens were heard singing loudly, having a few moments with friends they’ve known their whole lives. 

The soft putter of an old motorboat rings in my ears this morning. The scene is an old man fishing with a young boy, probably his grandson. I instantly flashed back to countless hours fishing with my Grandfather Walter in his old rowboat.

These are the sounds of summer. 

Growing up in Indiana, summers passed too quickly. But they were the best of times, the best memories ever. Downtime away from school, and uptime with friends and family. 

We would hit the water first thing in the morning, stay in it all day, breaking only for burgers on the grill for lunch, Popsicles as many times as we could get away with, and dinner, which was usually more burgers. Then we would be back in the water or on the water, hanging with lake friends we didn’t see any other time of year. Being able to boat by ourselves was a freedom I only felt again when I got my driver’s license. In the boat I could spin and do circles and go as fast as I wanted. It was glorious.

Summer was a time of adventure and exploration.

I spend all year looking forward to our Adirondack summers on the lake. Our goal is to spend all summer here, and have the kids here with us, and hopefully one day their kids. It’s our time to reconnect, to play games, to do puzzles at the long antique dining table that never gets used, to talk till the wee hours of the morning with friends, to kayak, fish, and climb the mountain where you can see 50 miles from the top.

As a kid, I never wanted summer to end. School. Yuck. And as an adult, I never really want to leave here. I stay as long as weather or obligations will permit. But if it lasted forever, it wouldn’t be special. I wouldn’t have anything to look forward to.

The End Is Near

This week was the warning shot across the bow that summer is about to end for us here. One of our sons left to return to school, and our daughter will leave here within a few days. Soon we’ll be empty-nesters again, something we look forward to with mixed feelings. The quiet time will be nice, but it will feel empty, for sure. We’re counting the weeks we have left before our busy life of work kicks in, which we also look forward to.

The downside of spending summers in paradise is that we rarely leave our home here. When others take vacations or fly off to distant lands, we want to be here, focused on our tradition. It’s not a bad thing. We feel blessed. 

Now the pressure is on to make sure I do everything I want to do. This year I’ve not climbed the mountain, painted from my boat, or seen a couple of friends I want to see. Somehow I’ve been working more than I should. But I’m thankful, because years ago, this life wasn’t possible.

Luck

People say, “You’re lucky,” and I feel as though I am blessed, though I’m here because of deliberate action. I landed here because my dad wanted his family together on a lake all summer long, and he accomplished that for about three decades before he passed. He had to make major sacrifices to make it happen and had to work long hours for decades to be able to do it. It’s been the same for us, knowing we wanted to be able to spend our summers here, and it took decades of planning and work to accomplish such an important goal.

Fatherly Advice

Each summer when my son’s friends visit, I sit with them and take advantage of the opportunity to chat heart-to-heart and help them see a perspective they might not see. “You’re lucky to have this place,” said one of them, which was a chance to tell him what I went through to have it. That then leads to a discussion about the importance of dreaming and determining what you want your life to look like. You can be like a boulder pushed from the top of a mountain, bouncing around to different places before you land, or you can be more deliberate. You still won’t land in the exact place or in the exact way you’re thinking about, but you’re more likely to get close to landing where you want if you set some goals and make a plan. 

Trapped with Money

I know lots of people who inherited big money, so much that they did not need to work. Many of them are lost, feeling as though they lack purpose. They have one foot in the security of their money, but they love the idea of trying something new, trying to make it on their own. But since they don’t need to, they often don’t. That makes me sad.

Living the Life of Others

Years ago, my friend Mark ran his dad’s company. He was miserable in his big house and his big job, because he was living his dad’s dream and not his own. One day on the golf course he leveled with me that he felt trapped. I suggested he burn the bridges and not look back, that he needed to find himself. But he was addicted to security. Years later, when his dad’s company was sold, he was free, but by then he said he was too old to take risks. He died an unhappy man who never lived his own life. 

Time Runs Out

As I face yet another coming birthday this month, it’s usually the kick that I need to remind me that time is running out and that there are lots of goals I’ve yet to meet, experiences I’ve yet to experience. Every day is precious, but if you’re not doing what you love, you’re wasting a life you’ll never get back. If you cling to security, what’s safe, what’s easy, you’ll live a life of regret. 

What is sitting in a deep cave in the back of your mind that you’ve always wanted to do, but have not done? Now is the time, my friend. Stop making excuses. You can find a way, no matter what your circumstances or age. You’re never too old or too young (in most cases). 

Get busy. Focus on being deliberate. 

Eric Rhoads

PS: Last week I mentioned that I was nervous about doing a workshop, but the reviews came in, and I knocked it out of the park. Why did I not try it sooner?

This week I judged two art shows — one giant online art show, and the local Adirondack Plein Air show. That was loads of fun.

As my time here winds down, the new adventures begin. 

In September I’ll be hosting our Pastel Live online conference.

Then I’ll be hosting my Fall Color Week retreat in California on the coast. (Though it’s sold out, some new rooms just became available — but today is the last day to book them.) 

Following Fall Color Week, I head to Tahoe to do some planning for next year’s Plein Air Convention.

Then I head to Laguna to be one of the judges for the annual Laguna Plein Air event. 

There is more … but I’m too exhausted to talk about it all. And there should be a couple of major announcements coming this week or next. Stay tuned.