Take Me Home, Country Roads
Family, food, and finding peace in the Poconos
I spent the past two weeks back home visiting my parents in Pennsylvania.
One of my 2025 goals was to see my family once per quarter. I had not seen my parents since they visited Boulder in May, so I was overdue for a visit, especially since I hadn’t been in PA since Thanksgiving.
When I landed in Philadelphia, we immediately headed to Anthony’s in Allentown for well-done cauliflower pizza and our favorite meatballs. Oh, and their roasted wings.
When we pulled up to our home on Lake Naomi, I exhaled. My nervous system settled. I felt at peace. I was home.
My family has been frequenting the Poconos since 2007. Winters skiing at Jack Frost and Big Boulder, followed by French onion soup and chicken parm at Murphy’s. Summers learning to fish with my Grandpa Skippy, who never once complained when I repeatedly tangled my line, keeping him from casting his own.
Sneaking Mike’s Hard Lemonade from the garage and getting tipsy for the first time. Smoking whatever pot my older brother could get his hands on out of a measly, mealy apple and getting high for the first time. Good times. The best times.
For years, Lake Naomi was a vacation spot—a home away from our home in Wayne, a Philly suburb.
From what I understand, and the story I remember hearing as a kid, is that my dad visited Lake Naomi with his fraternity brothers in college. When skating on the ice, one of his friends cracked his head open on the ice. Since then, Lake Naomi has been forever ingrained in his head (and his friend’s).
In 2017, my parents realized a goal my dad has had since his twenties. They bought lake-front property, tore down the existing unloved house, and built their dream home. It’s our happy place. And last spring, after selling their place on the Main Line, it became my parents’ full-time residence.
The first day of my visit, my mom asked me how I wanted to spend my time and what I wanted to do for fun. “Just be together,” I responded. No expectations. No cherished outcomes.
In typical fashion, time flew by. We celebrated mom’s 71st birthday. We read and snoozed on the dock, soaking up the last days of summer. We drank coffee and became addicted to Lemon Spindrift sparkling water.
Despite focusing on weight loss (and being down 25 lbs since I last saw her!), my mom made all of my favorites—orzo, Granny’s potato salad, meatloaf, Molly’s macaroni, tuna salad, and ham salad—fueling my Ironman training. And dad guilted me into eating hockey puck-sized chipwiches from the Junction, although I didn’t need much convincing. Ice cream is his favorite food and I wasn’t going to let him indulge alone since it brings us so much pleasure and laughter.
Our time together was centered around food. A big lake house and we gather around the island that my mom will forever complain is too close to the stove—to break bread, share stories, and create memories.
For as long as I can remember, my mom has gathered people in her kitchen. While she would interrogate my buddies to get the latest tea, she was always a gracious hostess. No one ever goes hungry at the Holz Haus, aka Hale Mauka (mountain house in Hawaiian).
When we weren’t eating, we were exercising. Paddleboarding during golden hour with Ma. Riding bikes on our favorite roads with stunning foliage with Baba. Swimming in the lake as my parents kayaked alongside me, giving me encouragement as I struggled through vertical kick drills.
Mom wanted to show me off to her friends, who already seemed to know everything about me. It made me realize two things:
How women tend to share more than men
How proud of me and the man I'm becoming she is
Dad selflessly served as my sherpa—driving and checking me in to the community center so I could swim in the pool, lift weights, and sauna. I felt guilty as I needed to be his guest to be admitted, but he never once complained. “I can do it. I want to. I’m happy to.”
And when I sprained my ankle halfway through my trip, they took care of me. Although I’m now out of the house, I’ll always be their son and they’ll always be my parents. I think we all want to feel useful and have purpose, but I often wonder what I did to deserve so much love.
My dad worked hard when I was a kid—playing his role as a provider for our family. He traveled a lot, often internationally, and when he could, he took us with him. His career gave us the opportunity to live in Dubai, explore the Great Pyramids of Giza, climb the Great Wall of China, and snorkel in the Indian Ocean off the coast of Mauritius.
My parents had me in their forties and because he made a good living, my mom was able to stay home and raise my brother and me. Because my mom was around more when I was growing up, I felt closer to her.
However, I’ve gotten closer to my dad as I’ve aged. I first felt that shift when I was in college—coming home between semesters, we could relate on a different level. Maybe because I then considered myself a man. Maybe he finally saw me as one. Maybe because he understood the trials and tribulations I was experiencing in Corporate America or in romantic relationships. Either way, we’ve continued to deepen our relationship since then. Not only is he my old man, he’s a best friend.
I don’t know if he sees it as making up for lost time, but he’s certainly made his presence known and been there for me as I grow through young adulthood. A supporter on my entrepreneurial journey. A cheerleader on my athletic journey. A guide on my life journey.
After enjoying a solo sunrise paddle, my dad and I headed to the Philadelphia Airport. As we headed to the Southwest drop-off, “Take Me Home, Country Roads” came on the radio. It was a bittersweet yet apropos sendoff. As John Denver’s voice flooded the car, tears filled my eyes and streamed down my face. We hugged tight, longer than usual, looking forward to seeing each other in eight weeks in Cozumel.
Other highlights of the trip included running with my buddy Chris in Valley Forge Park, ending my man bun era with a trip to see Silvia (who gave me my first haircut!), and grabbing dinner with my college roommate Max.
Awesome parents….always smiling… great read Adam. (Sent your mom a pic of you at VFE today!)
I love reading about all our excursions and am a proud Aunt.