Photo courtesy of Ben Vens
By J.B. Simpson
There’s nothing quite like the eve of the boating season — the anticipation of warm days to come.
It matters not your favorite boating endeavor: sunrise fishing, morning waverunner runs, wake surf, powerboating for distance, afternoon cove-outs, bar hopping, toon idling the shoreline, sunset cruises.
It’s the intermittent unwind.
The Lake is not just a place, it’s a state of mind. A dimension where the pace slows against the cruel tic of time. It’s freedom from the grind, if only for a weekend.
Those of us lucky enough to call Lake of the Ozarks home, at least us transplants, we’ve given up good paying corporate jobs and a concrete jungle to take risks in a place that rewards the entrepreneurial spirit — or crushes it through feast and famine.
Many find solid jobs juxtaposed to a decent cost of living. Some find remote gigs. Others find the Lake central to the territory they travel. Many more grew up here, eager to leave for college, broader opportunities and more metro experiences, later to find the place they longed to leave became the home they always wanted.
However we’ve gotten here, there’s an underlying theme. It’s about picking where one wants to live first, then creating opportunity. It’s counterintuitive to a culture that for so long has rewarded us for following the work where it takes us.
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