Every summer has a beat. It varies from year to year, but once it kicks in we all march to it. Some years I pick it up by Memorial Day, other years it takes a little longer to resonate. To most casual observers and our Facebook friends I’m sure each of our summers appear the same: weekend gatherings of our summertime family joined by an interesting array of guests with a backdrop of water, sun, boats, food, drinks, laughter, music, hugs, and smiles… Good times always rule, but trust me, each year has a distinct beat all its own.
I’m not talking about an audible beat; although music, specifically the selection of music, is often passionately debated. It’s impossible to exaggerate the amount of conversation that centers on music over the course of each summer. There’s the classic divide you’d expect with three generations contributing to the Spotify playlists, but I realized years ago it runs deeper. Summers at the lake mean different things to everyone. For some it’s time to chill, unwind from the hectic work week. Others seek water sports as a counterbalance to sitting behind a desk all week. Some want to snooze; others push themselves until every muscle in their body aches. The music that sets the mood for what each person desires differs as much as the activities themselves.
For me it’s simple; my beloved rock gets the weekend off and all I need to find my summer bliss are the island inspired songs from Kenny Chesney’s Be as You Are (Songs from an Old Blue Chair) or Life on a Rock. Put an ice-cold Landshark in my hand and I’m set. Oddly, after ten years I have no idea what the others really like. Sometimes it seems to me they enjoy the endless back and forth critiques more than they do the actual music. All I know is they spend an embarrassing number of hours debating the merits of songs nobody will remember in five years. But, as long as they continue to humor me with my share of Kenny, I’m happy just sipping my Landshark and tuning them out.
This year, weekends are focused on pre-dawn wake-up calls with one goal in mind: maximizing quality wakeboarding time on the glassy water that vanishes by late morning when the boat traffic picks up. It’s clear at this point wakeboarding has claimed center stage. It’s always been part of our summer life, some years more so than others. But for the first time, with more of our clan participating than not, it’s the chorus that unites us. It’s the beat we all march to.
Meals and all other activities are planned around those four sacred hours every morning when the band of boarders silently drift away from the dock shortly after 6:00 a.m. One is usually wide-eyed (the six-year-old), but most remain half-a-sleep until their first dip into the chilly mountain water. Once the weekend rhythm is established it just seems to stick. Despite the many obstacles, the beat has once again proven stronger than the excuses. Cold – buy a wetsuit. Drizzling – you’re getting wet anyway. Tired – grab a Monster. Hungover – suck it up. This tempo works for me. These old bones aren’t wakeboarding, but I love getting up with the sun and I’m always a willing participant if they need a driver, videographer or just a little more weight in the boat.
Not all summer beats have appealed to me; from time to time I’ve had trouble staying in sync. There have been seasons that were all about parties; every weekend it seemed like we were planning a party or having a party or recovering from a party. Lots of visitors, lots of food, lots of work. Those summers were exhausting. A couple of years the gamers ruled – corn hole, beer pong, cards, and board games; competitions starting after dinner and going strong deep into the night. Always sounded like they were having fun, I’m just not much of a game player. There was one year when drinking consumed their imaginations; each weekend’s concoctions more elaborate than the last. When I was in my 20’s maybe I would have been all in, but it provided little attraction by my sixth decade. But this year’s rhythm – an early start to an active day – I like it. Yes, the 2017 tempo is definitely more in my wheelhouse.
I’m not the only one; everyone seems happy this year. The late sleepers now have a quiet house to themselves. In past years, we’ve often had more of a Big Chill beginning with people staggering into the kitchen as they wake up; drinking coffee, making something to eat, and putzing around waiting for everyone to gather before starting the day. This year, an early lunch is the meal that anchors the day. The boarders bring hearty appetites and plenty of tales back from their morning adventures, and the sleepers are refreshed because they haven’t been deprived of the extra shut-eye that makes weekends different from the rest of the week. Everybody wins.
It’s mid-June and the beat is going strong. While I suspect some premeditation on the part of our son, the lead wakeboard enthusiast, I generally find this rhythm thing to be the outcome of the collective mindset of what I think of as our summertime family. This fleeting family is not restricted to those related by blood or marriage; instead for a few cherished months of each summer a new clan is bonded by circumstance and often feels at the time like it will last forever. But in our experience, it rarely does; intersecting lives seldom make the adjustment to run parallel. So, all these special moments we’ve loved, and even some we haven’t, are woven together forming treasured memories of the unforgettable people, past and present, that have shared our home, marched to our beat and contributed so much to our summer joy.
