Sunday ☕ : Following Your Compass

The steam from my coffee mingles with the morning mist rising from the lake, both carrying the scent of pine and the faint diesel exhaust from boats already heading out for their final summer adventures.

My uncovered legs prickle with goosebumps — a faithful companion during these last days in shorts before autumn stakes its claim. The metallic taste of cool air hints at change, while the sweet aroma of lake water and sunscreen still clings to the dock chairs around me.

The joy-filled screams of children on tubes behind speedboats pierce the morning quiet, their laughter echoing off the water as the wakes break the mirror-like surface. They’re grabbing one more ride, maybe two, before this holiday weekend draws summer to its inevitable close. This is the sound of a perfect summer.

Later today, friends we’ve known for decades — some for every summer of their lives since they were children — will gather for our traditional lake-wide farewell ceremony, awarding sailing trophies and sharing hugs that must sustain us until next June, knowing some embraces may be our last after all these years together.

The Rhythm of Tradition

While the holiday weekend signals departure for most — back to schools and jobs and the urgent pull of ordinary life — we’ll linger a bit longer, held by responsibilities that call us away slowly rather than all at once. But there’s something profoundly moving about being part of a lake tradition that spans 120 years and multiple generations, like adding another ring to an ancient tree.

A Rite of Passage

My father didn’t just create family memories, he built a rite of passage that flows through me to my children, and perhaps someday to theirs. It’s a legacy measured not in dollars but in compass readings, not in certificates but in the steady hands that learn to dock in any weather.

Storm-Forged Lessons

From my earliest memories, we learned the sacred knowledge: how to untie ropes in a brisk wind, proper boating techniques, how to read water and weather. Each of us had roles when Dad took us on adventures, starting with that small OMC tri-hull — about 15 feet of fiberglass optimism whose innovative hull promised stability in rough seas (a tall order for such a modest vessel). I remember Dad’s pride when we got it, likely used but never diminished in our eyes.

The Worst Day of My Life at Age 10

One stormy day stands etched in memory. Dad, my brothers, and I set out from Port Huron, Ohio, into what seemed like hurricane-force winds. The boat rocked like a carnival ride designed by someone with a cruel sense of humor, while swells towered taller than our small craft. Foolish? Perhaps. But it was training disguised as terror.

We followed a charted course set by the Power Squadron, navigating by compass and charts while rain slammed the canvas top and stressed its aluminum struts. Water hammered the windshield in sheets as the boat pitched violently. “Stay on course,” Dad commanded. “Keep the compass on that spot no matter what.” Each of us took turns at the helm during what ranks among the most terrifying experiences of my life.

The fury of the Great Lakes is the same force that claimed the Edmund Fitzgerald, immortalized in song and maritime legend. Our adventure stretched from morning till evening — an eternity of soaked clothes, chattering teeth, and the profound relief that comes when you finally reach stable ground.

Compass Philosophy

But Dad had given us training for life: Keep your eye on the compass. Set your course, and stay on course no matter what storms arise. When giant waves push you off track, get back on course. Head straight into the waves and navigate through them with balance and purpose.

As Violet Fane wrote, “All things come to those who wait,” though the complete quote offers deeper wisdom: “All things come to those who wait … they come, but often come too late.” Dad understood timing. He knew that patience paired with persistence creates the perfect moment for growth.

Measured Success

Dad’s success was indeed measured in boats — a progression that told the story of hard work and dreams fulfilled. From canoe to rowboat with motor, from the tri-hull to a small cabin cruiser dubbed the Dusty Five — an all-aluminum 28-footer that graduated us from sleeping in the Airstream to cramped but magical quarters aboard the boat itself. (The name? People always referred to us as “Dusty Rhoads” … and there were five of us.)

Those tight quarters housed some of the richest memories of my life. Years led to a 32-foot version, then a 38-foot trawler, eventually a 56-footer, and finally, when we discovered the mountain lakes of the Adirondacks, a classic wooden boat — polished like floating furniture and treated with the reverence it deserved.

The Sacred Vessel

The wooden boat represented the ultimate rite of passage. We could drive any boat solo — except that one. Its high-polish finish and classical lines demanded respect that bordered on worship. Dad would let us drive it with him beside us, even help us dock it (a delicate operation requiring surgical precision), but solo voyages remained forbidden.

The wisdom of this restriction became clear when someone eventually took it out alone, returning with a docking gash that required complete restoration. They don’t patch these vessels; they strip twelve coats of varnish, sand to bare wood, replace damaged sections, and rebuild before applying fresh finish. This explains Dad’s reluctance to grant independence too soon.

Legacy in Motion

Dad wasn’t being stingy — he was cultivating something precious. Before he died, I bought that wooden boat from him, and now the rite of passage continues. I train my adult children in the ancient arts of handling and docking, preparing them for the day they’ll take her out alone and, hopefully, train future generations in turn.

I treasure this tradition he created: having something to anticipate, something special to earn. He reserved the privilege of the proper passing of the baton — not automatically granted at adulthood, but when wisdom and skill had properly matured.

The Value of Waiting

In our age of instant everything, there’s profound value in delayed gratification and earned privilege. Good things truly do come to those who wait, as Henry Wadsworth Longfellow expanded: “All things come to him who waits — provided he knows what he is waiting for.” Dad knew. He understood that keeping our eyes fixed on chosen goals, maintaining course through unpleasant storms, leads us through turbulence to calm seas and eventually to bigger, better opportunities that enrich our earthly experience.

Patience combined with persistence, steadfastness, and focus — these bring the treasures that matter most.

In a world drunk on TikTok’s 20-second promises, we’re seduced into believing treasures should arrive instantly — as if decades of dreams could be delivered through the magic of a marketing funnel. Yet I watched my father’s dreams unfold, one earned treasure at a time, through storms that tested both character and the patience that in turn forged wisdom. Each upgrade wasn’t just a bigger boat; it was proof that weathering life’s tempests makes success taste infinitely sweeter than anything handed to us on a silver platter.

The Bigger Boat

I remember Dad’s words as we passed giant yachts in our tiny fiberglass boat, marveling at their grandeur: “Son, no matter what you achieve in life, someone always has a bigger boat.”

At first, I heard only the caution: Be content where you are because someone always has more. But deeper wisdom lived in those words: Keep your eyes on the compass, keep moving forward, and your own bigger boat will come.

The real treasure wasn’t the boat itself — it was the compass Dad gave us, the one that points not north but toward purpose, patience, and the kind of legacy that spans generations.

As summer fades and another season of lessons draws to a close, I’m grateful for storm-tested wisdom and the compass that still guides us home.

PS: As fall arrives, I’m startled by how swiftly this year has sailed past — do the seasons truly accelerate as our own years accumulate, like a boat gaining speed in deeper waters?

The compass points toward my next online art training event, Pastel Live, which I’ll navigate from here at the lake. Then comes my Fall Color Week artist retreat in Door County, Wisconsin, followed by my annual plein air painting trip with friends — this year to Switzerland’s mountain lakes, where I’ll undoubtedly think of Dad’s lessons while painting from boats on Alpine waters.

Upon return, I’ll visit New York to celebrate 40 years of my publication Radio Ink at our annual Forecast event at the Harvard Club. Then on to Art Business Mastery to train artists on transforming passion into prosperity, before closing the year with PleinAir Live online. Just writing this exhausts me — but like Dad’s progression through boats, each event builds toward something larger.

The compass never stops pointing forward into another year. Watercolor Live in January, then Winter Art Escape in February, my new winter retreat to escape snow and ice — this time in Hilton Head and Savannah. March brings Acrylic Live, and May brings The Plein Air Convention & Expo in the Ozarks … and then another summer begins

Who Is This Guy Eric Rhoads?

Eric Rhoads is the founder and publisher of PleinAir Magazine and Fine Art Connoisseur Magazine (both on newsstands nationally), author and host of six Art Marketing instruction videos, writes a blog on Art Marketing, and is the author of the Amazon bestseller Make More Money Selling Your Art. Additionally, he produces the weekly e-newsletters American Watercolor, Fine Art Today, Inside Art, PaintTube ArtNotes, Pastel Today, Plein Air Today, and Realism Today. Eric hosts the in-person Plein Air Convention & Expo, the Fine Art Trip for art collectors, and painting retreats including Paint Adirondacks, Fall Color Week, and the Winter Art Escape, as well as online virtual events Acrylic Live, Pastel Live, PleinAir Live, Realism Live, Watercolor Live Digital Painting Live, Gouache Live, and Art Business Mastery Day. He is also the producer of the PleinAir Salon Online Art Competition and art instructional courses through PaintTube.tv. Each weekday Eric hosts Art School Live, a YouTube show featuring free demos from a variety of artists, and he is host of the PleinAir Podcast and Art Marketing Minute Podcast. Eric is a plein air, landscape, and portrait painter with works at Castle Gallery. He is heavily involved in the radio industry as founder of Radio Ink Magazine as well as Radio + Television Business Report, the Radio Forecast Conference, and the Hispanic Radio Conference. He is the author of the bestselling book Blast from the Past: A Pictorial History of Radio’s First 75 Years. Eric lives in Austin, Texas, with his bride, Laurie, and they are the parents of triplets. Learn more at EricRhoads.com, or see Everything We Do.