The Moments That Matter Most (Hint: They’re Not at Work)

I just returned from a week on Cayuga Lake with our sons and their families, a tradition now filled with boating, fishing, paddleboarding, backyard baseball, late-night card games, and unhurried conversation around a campfire.

It’s my favorite week of the year. Not because it’s exciting or exotic, but because it’s clarifying.

I usually grow a little quieter during this trip. Not because I have nothing to say, but because I’m busy observing, listening, and soaking in what really matters. It’s a sacred reset, a reminder that my true purpose isn’t tied to titles or tasks. It’s tied to people.

The best roles I’ve ever had? Gampa and Babba. (Names lovingly assigned by my grandkids and way better than any LinkedIn headline I’ve ever written.)

The best memories from this trip?

• Fishing with my youngest grandson, who proudly dubbed himself a “fishing pro” after his first catch.
• My oldest granddaughter grabbing my hand tightly as we walked away from the dock after saying our traditional “goodbye, lake” on the final morning.
• Campfire shows with my two creative and talented guitar-playing grandkids.
• Family baseball games (with optional rules and endless “called shots”).
• Meaningful conversations with my sons and daughters-in-law.
• Watching, but never thinking of winning, the family’s nightly fast-paced Demon card game.
• And the best part: hearing “Love you, Gamps” and “Love you, Babba” before bed.

No amount of likes on a social post, applause at work, or recognition in a boardroom compares.

Those things might feel good, but they’re fleeting. What sticks with you are the moments of connection. The people. The stillness. The gratitude.

And I’ll be honest; it took me longer than I’d like to admit to learn that. I chased accomplishments for years. But when I finally slowed down, I realized the real blessings were right in front of me all along.

When I focus on what matters most…faith, family, friendships…I show up better everywhere. As a leader. A friend. A neighbor. A good human.

My hope is that when it’s all said and done, I’ll be remembered not for how many people I impressed, but for how well I loved the few who mattered most.

So, I’ll leave you with this:

How do you slow down, show up, and appreciate the people and purpose right in front of you?

I’d love to hear your reflections.