Growing up in Central Illinois, my family and I spent our vacations traveling north to a small lake in Wisconsin. Those trips quickly became more than just a getaway; they shaped some of my most meaningful memories and grounded me in ways I didn’t fully understand at the time. The lake was a constant through every season. In the winter, it transformed into a snowy playground where snowmobile rides stretched for miles of trails, through forests and over frozen lakes. In the summer, it became the place where I learned to waterski, falling again and again, and always climbing back up to try one more time and the place I would fish with my grandpa and having to be way too quiet. No matter the season, the lake felt steady and familiar to me.
What stays with me most are the quiet moments. Sitting on the dock at sunrise, wrapped in stillness as the water mirrored the sky, felt almost sacred. Evenings brought sunsets that slowed time, with bald eagles soaring overhead and the gentle sounds of nature replacing the noise of everyday life. In those moments, I felt a calm I had never experienced anywhere else. It was a rare kind of peace, one that didn’t ask anything of me except to be present.
When it was time to leave, I always lingered. I remember trying to take mental snapshots of those final moments, hoping I could carry that sense of calm back home with me into what I thought of as “reality”- the routines, responsibilities, and constant grind of daily life. I didn’t always succeed, but the lake left its mark.
Even now, being near a lake remains my true escape. It is where I can pause, breathe, and resist the urge to rush through life. This year, as my birthday number continues to grow, my wish is simple: more time on the lake with my family, creating new memories while holding onto the peace that first found me there.
-Marne Fauser, President & CEO