Almost every Friday after work, I drive to Kings Beach. I squeeze my car into one of the handful of secret parking spots I’ve collected over the past year, or, if I’m lucky, borrow a friend’s driveway. Then I meet up with whoever’s around, and we skate or stroll over to Kings Beach State Recreation Area for Music on the Beach.
The concerts themselves are wonderful, but I’ve realized the music isn’t what keeps pulling me back. It’s everything that happens around it.
Last Friday was no exception. My friends and I had already danced our way through a few bluegrass songs, laughing at our complete lack of coordination, when something caught my eye out on the water.
It looked like a pirate paddling a canoe toward shore. I pointed him out half-joking before stopping mid-sentence. “Oh… I know that guy.”
As the canoe drifted closer, I wandered over to say hello. Before I knew it, I was squeezed into the tiny, questionably lakeworthy canoe alongside three friends. We floated just offshore, listening to the bluegrass echo across the water while the beach buzzed behind us. We watched hundreds of people dancing from the best seat in the house while I periodically glanced down to make sure our canoe was still afloat.
Eventually, I wandered back onto the beach to find another group of friends. We tried catching each other up on life, but every conversation was interrupted by another song or another familiar face stopping by to say hello. After several failed attempts at finishing a story, we gave up.
“We’ll catch up Wednesday,” I told my friend.
Because, of course, we would. Wednesday means Music in the Park in Truckee.
The rhythm of summer in Tahoe isn’t measured in weeks or calendars. It’s measured in community gatherings. Tuesday Blues Days at Palisades Tahoe. Music in the Park on Wednesdays. Truckee Thursdays. Music on the Beach every Friday.
Every few days there’s another excuse to gather outside, spread out a blanket, run into someone you haven’t seen in a while, and promise someone you’ll see them again in just a few days.
For a few months each year, Lake Tahoe becomes one giant neighborhood block party. We cross paths so often that keeping up with each other’s lives happens almost by accident. Plans don’t have to be elaborate. They sound like, “See you Wednesday.”
Maybe that is why summer feels so fleeting. Soon the concerts will end, the evenings will cool, and the beaches will empty. Right now, however, I know exactly where I’ll be at least once a week; probably dancing, laughing and running into someone I know.
It’s become my favorite summer tradition.
