Making Memories

     The older I become, the more sentimental I get, and holiday weekends are notorious for my nostalgia creeping up on me.   Too many Hallmark commercials, too many sappy movies, and the loss of my mom hasn’t helped.  I tear up at the drop of a hat.  The other day I caught myself crying over a wireless phone commercial where a father texted photos to his daughter of her favorite stuffed animal as he traveled the globe.  Cute stuff.  Smart campaign.  But, seriously?  Tears?  Sometimes I think I need therapy.

     So, tonight  I sit here on my screened-in porch on Lake Keowee, South Carolina, listening to the dimming hums of boat engines and chirping crickets gearing up for the evening, competing with some light music playing on my stereo, and once again I catch myself getting all schmaltzy.  My feet propped, a light breeze blowing through the trees, zero humidity, it feels as if the first hint of southern fall has arrived, and I’m taking it all in.  Perfect weather easily reminds me of the good things in life, not the bad.  Forget the corporate job search, forget the stack of bills sitting on my desk, forget the declining bank account.  Right now, I’m thinking of nothing except what a perfect day it was, how lucky I am to live on a lake, and what a great summer it has been.   And, bingo, the tears come. 

     I reflect on each summer weekend that I entertained out-of-town visitors and think about how great it was spending time with friends and family from near and far.  I think about all of the laughing, reminiscing, and enjoyment I got from being with those I love most.  I think about the boat rides, delicious meals, game nights, night swims, and even the hangovers.   But, even those made it all worth it.  Good times. 

     As I head down memory lane 2010, I make a sharp turn down summer memory lane 2009 which leads me to many summer lake memories, both here on Lake Keowee and my beloved childhood summers spent on Indian Lake, Ohio.  As I reminisce about all of the great summer, lake memories, I can’t help but get a little choked up.  Once a lake-lover, always a lake lover and that’s one of the major reasons why I built my house on the lake.  Because I wanted to build a place where loved ones could sit back, relax, and help create memories that last a lifetime.    

     Even if the southern summers last longer than those that I’ve spent up north, to me Labor Day still labels itself as the end of summer milestone.  And, without question, almost all of my Labor Day weekends have been spent on either Indian Lake or Lake Keowee.   I am one lucky girl. 

     This Labor Day weekend, however, I cannot help but feel a little melancholy as I unfortunately have no visitors to entertain for the long three day weekend.  Sure, I’ve enjoyed the solitude and flexibility of doing what I want when I wanted all weekend, but I think this is the first Labor Day weekend that I have spent alone in my life.  When I try to remember all of the fun Labor Day weekends I’ve spent on Lake Keowee since I’ve moved to the south, coupled with the many spent on Indian Lake, Ohio, not one of them was spent alone but with friends and family.   That’s when I get even more sentimental about being alone on the holiday.

     I sit here and look at the patio table with four empty chairs remembering a cut-throat Euchure game between my two older sisters and father during last Labor Day’s impromptu Father/Daughter weekend.  They had all visited me earlier in the summer with their families, but my dad suggested, and we all agreed, that it would be nice just to have the immediate family get together for the long weekend:  Dad and his three girls.  So, they all re-arranged their schedules, and just like that, they traveled from Ohio and Florida to have some good ole family time.  My mom, who passed away a little over two years ago, was sorely missed of course, but her spirit was with us as we teased each other incessantly, played games, drank cocktails, boated, swam, and enjoyed each other’s company.  But, I’m confident that she was looking down on us and was comforted seeing Dad with her girls. 

     When my mom was alive and years after we sold our summer cottage on Indian Lake, Ohio, she used to always get sentimental during summer holiday weekends, too.  She’d say, “It’s just not like it used to be back when we owned the cottage.  The extended family never gets together anymore.  We don’t have the crowds of 25 people to feed.   Times have just changed.  It makes me sad.”

     Mom was right. Times have changed.  Our immediate family might get together once a year, but long gone are the days when we have large family reunions.  That makes me sad, too.  Oh I’m sure there are some families that still love to have larger get-togethers.   I just don’t know of any but one, and that family is Greek.   But, that’s what Greek’s do.  They hang out in pods.  It’s in their blood.  Rent the movie My Big Fat Greek Wedding, if you haven’t, and you’ll understand what I’m talking about.  I tease my Greek friends about me converting to Greek so that I can be part of their large family unit, but frankly, I couldn’t blend into their family.  My blonde hair and light blue eyes would make me stick out like a sore thumb compared to their dark haired, dark eyed crowd. 

     Maybe my large family gatherings are long gone, but as I sit here alone in this unique situation of a company-less holiday weekend, I make a pledge that I’m going to keep the lights on for any family member or friend who does want to make weekend visits on the lake an annual event.  I promise that they’ll be plenty of food and drink, as well as, laughs, snorts, deep-talk, and sometimes tears that can only be shared by people you truly love and trust.   This is what my mom would’ve wanted me to do, and I still want to make her proud.  I’ll always remember her advice:     

• Tell your friends and family you love them.
• Enjoy the time when you are together—life often gets in the way and it’s easy to make other things a higher priority.

     Mom was right as most moms always are.  Cherish those you love and make a memory, people.  Memories are the one thing that can be recycled over and over.  Get busy and start making some. 

     The phone rings, and it’s my oldest and dearest friend Teresa asking if I would mind an impromptu visitor for tomorrow.   “I’d love it!” I tell her. 

     I’ll keep the lights on for you, my friend.