Thursday Th(ink)S - August 13, 2026

Much of my growing up years were spent at and on a lake. A big Canadian farm family is not

going to load seven kids and two parents into the station wagon and go on summer holidays.

Well, we did… once, and for reasons I do not understand, we left the baby and the dog at home

with a caretaker. Sorry, baby bro. But really, there just wasn't room. The choice was: bring the tent or the baby brother. We brought the tent.

Summer in Alberta was as short as my mini skirt after I rolled the waistband up on the school

bus — you only got caught if you forgot to roll it back down before you got off. Summer worked

the same way. Blink and you'd missed it.

Our family paid attention to summer.

"Quick! Get the raspberries picked, the peas picked and shelled, the carrots dug, the hamburger

patties made… We're going to the lake!"

And parents and growing baby would hop in the front of the pick-up truck, the rest of us and the

dog, in the back. Eight miles from farm to lake. The longest summer miles ever imagined.

The lake. A big hayfield, a big cabin, a big beach, a big shed with big toys, a big family, and

parents with big summer ideas that didn't include the station wagon but did include the baby and

the dog. Perfection.

We learned to swim, snorkel, water ski, rowboat -- every and all things water. I'm still a water-

girl. I always will be.

Which brings me to…

I've spent the last week in Canada at a friend's cottage on the lake. A lake that is very reminiscent

of the one I grew up on. Here's a truth I've learned:

Aging has me looking back as much as I'm looking forward. Maybe more so. Those formative

years on the water, at our rustic cabin, surrounded by grandparents and cousins are where I

learned how to age.

I learned that…

Slow mornings on a dock are where the sun welcomes me to a new day, brand new and, as Anne

of Green Gables said, "with no mistakes in it." I’m old now and I wake with the same attitude.

The people who taught me to swim are the same people who taught me that coming up for air is

what we do when life gets overwhelming. I’m old now and family is not taken for granted.

A full house isn't always chaos. I’m old now and my alone time sometimes longs for a bit of

pandemonium.

Roots don't hold you down. They're what let you stretch further. I’m old now and I haven’t lost

myself.

You can leave a place and still carry it — in your walk, your laugh, the way you can't resist a

lake in August.

Aging well isn't about staying young. It's about staying close to me, the little girl who first

learned to float on a lake in the Parkland of Alberta. And making sure she doesn’t lose hold of

the hearts of those who floated beside her.

Big Brains:

“Summer afternoon—summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language.”

― Henry James

Old Souls: "I at last discovered that there was in me an invincible summer.”

― Albert Camus, L’été

The Ancient of Days:

"For behold, the winter is past;

the rain is over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth,

the time of singing^[d] has come,

and the voice of the turtledove

is heard in our land. Song of Solomon 2: 11-12

Norma Jean: 
I’m old now and I haven’t lost myself.

Thursday Chat: What's something your younger self was doing that you didn't realize, at the

time, was teaching you how to age well?