The Lights Are Off

All thirty or so relatives descended on this tiny slice of paradise over the course of four days. It was an epic family reunion, amplified (as always) by our signature brand of multi-layered conversations—everyone talking over each other, jumping from story to story, and somehow still following along. It’s chaotic. It’s hilarious. And it’s deeply heartwarming.


There’s nothing like catching up with family you haven’t seen in a while. We talk, laugh, play games, swim in the lake, share drinks and stories, and eat like we’re celebrating every meal. It’s both hectic and relaxing, often at the same time—and we wouldn’t have it any other way.


That’s the magic of family: it’s being your full, unfiltered self, while also striving to show up as your best. It’s straight faces hiding belly laughs, and inappropriate jokes softened by love. It’s messy and beautiful and rare. These moments, as infrequent as they may be, are everything.


One of the greatest joys? Watching our grown children—functioning adults now—yet still catching glimpses of the kids they once were. And quietly marveling at the amazing people they’re becoming.


This Fourth of July, we may each carry a different idea of what it means to be American. For some, it’s pride and patriotism; for others, it’s confusion, frustration, or hope for something better. But maybe at its best, being American is a bit like being part of a big family: loving through differences, accepting one another, and finding reasons to celebrate what connects us, instead of focusing on what divides us.


And in that spirit, I say simply: I love my family.