In 1968, Hugh Heffner opened The Playboy Club in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin. The decadent resort featured a restaurant where waitresses donned Playboy Bunny costumes and served the mid-west’s most sophisticated tourists, Hollywood’s elite, close cronies of the Playboy empire, and …. me. In what can only be attributed to 1970s parenting, my Uncle Joe took my family to lunch at The Playboy Club in 1978. Upon seeing all the scantily clad bunnies,  I loudly asked, “Where are all the naked mens?” 

After lunch, my family headed back to the Chicago burbs. I had no idea I wouldn’t return to the sprawling structure, which eventually became The Grand Geneva Resort and Spa until 2024. Four-year-old me could not have predicted her 49-year-old future self would garner clarity while huddled in the dark, one floor below where a Playboy Bunny once served her a grilled cheese.

In less than two months, my youngest child will be leaving for college. As I tread through the parade of lasts with my daughter, I find myself ricocheting between weepy milestone moments and efforts to appreciate the mundane monotony. Standing on the  precipice of this bittersweet crossroad, I’ve been wracking my brain over what wisdom I can offer my girl before she heads out on her own.

With  Emi’s impending departure at the forefront of my mind,  I was lamenting over the last concert my husband, daughter, and I would be attending while I packed up the car to head for the Dave Matthews Band (DMB) show at Alpine Valley in Wisconsin. As we approached the concert venue entrance, Emi shouted from the back seat, “Um, Instagram just posted that Alpine Valley is being evacuated due to severe weather.” 

We immediately turned on the station designated for emergency communication and heard a very calm male voice implore us to take shelter in our vehicles and veer off to the side of the road. We dutifully pulled over for a few minutes until my husband, Dave, announced without an ounce of doubt , “This isn’t safe. Emi- plug in The Grand Geneva on Google Maps”

Growing up, Dave’s family had owned women’s clothing stores. His dad was in charge of the Lake Geneva shop which was located in the basement of  The Playboy Club.  By age five, Dave was taking regular driving trips with his dad to their store. Just as Dave steered the car toward his old stomping grounds, all three of our cell phones lost signals, rendering us without any navigation system. 

Dave relied on his childhood recollections of those Wisconsin roads and delivered us to The Grand Geneva without making a single wrong turn. With rain tumbling down in sheets, we pulled into the very last vacant spot in the lot and took off toward the hotel.

The lobby was cluttered with people who were being funneled toward the basement by hotel staff. There was a woman wearing only a terry cloth robe, stunned wedding guests, dance moms and their kids, people wearing name tags which read Gordon Family Reunion, convention goers, and some other suspected stowaways like us (the clear concert purses were a dead give away). 

Dave, Emi, and I followed the herd, weaved our way through the hectic hallways, and carved ourselves a spot in the corner of the basement where we were butted up to locked double doors. On the other side of the wall, nestled in their private room, we could hear that the Gordon Family reunion was going strong with speeches and applause. Whether it be taxi drivers, people in elevators, families waiting in line at Disney, or strangers taking cover during a tornado… societal norms are no match for my husband’s friendliness. Dave soon became pals with fellow DMB fans who were occupying our tiny corner. 

Somewhere between Dave’s childhood stories and him inquiring about everyone’s employment histories, the power went off and sirens started intermittently blaring. There was a momentary collective gasp, and then the mood remarkably went back to somewhat celebratory. With no ventilation, the air soon became thick and stale. Beads of sweat began to collect as I remembered Emi spent her childhood terrified of thunderstorms. There were many nights I spent soothing her after flickering lightning and booming thunder sent her stampeding into our bedroom. I glanced at my daughter and saw no trace of fear.

 I’m unsure if it was the Gordon family’s choice, or if they were forced by the hotel management, but soon after the power went out, the locked doors swung open and people began flooding into the private family reunion. Seeing a chance for some fresher air and a bit more space, the three of us headed into the banquet room which showcased the Gordon family crest and old family photos.

Despite the room only being illuminated by cell phone flashlights, I could see the Gordon family appeared unfazed by all the strangers crashing their party. There was a member of the reunion playing the guitar while his relatives sang and danced. Some of the wedding guests had begun to trickle in and the two celebrations seamlessly melded. I was awestruck by the levity in the room. Nobody was arguing about politics, religion, or who would ultimately be paying for the open bar that was shelling out drinks like the plane was going down. The space was brimming with good will, when someone in the crowd announced that the bride and groom had not gotten to dance their first dance. 

Suddenly, the couple appeared as did a makeshift dance floor for them. People who were only connected by the circumstance of the moment, circled around the newlyweds as the guitar player began singing Ed Sherran’s Perfect. Everyone swayed, sang softly, and waved their phone flashlights as the guitarist flawlessly sang, getting every lyric right.

Soon after this magical moment, we emerged from the basement just as the fire alarm (tripped by the power outage) began to whine. Sensing it was time to go, we got a call through to my sister and brother-in-law who checked the radar for us (we still couldn’t pull up the radar on our phones). Storms were still raging, but we felt assured we would be able to make it home.

We barely spoke on the drive back.  Dave needed to fully focus on driving through the pounding rain and crackling lightning which incessantly electrified the night sky. I gripped the car door and sank into deep thought. Life often feels arbitrary and out of control. It is easy to feel like a speck of insignificant dust aimlessly floating on a vast globe. Yet, countless random events had just aligned for the three of us to participate in such a memorable display of connected humanity. 

Then it came to me. I knew what words of wisdom I had to share with my daughter and all the young adults about to embark on their post-high school journeys;

• Sometimes, your best plans will be twisted into utter chaos. When this happens, try to create something magical.
• Find a partner who will dance with you when times get dark.
• If you can’t be in the driver’s seat, make sure you trust the person who is at the wheel.
• Look up from your phone and talk to strangers.
• Find community and common ground wherever you go. 
• Tackle your fears. One day, you’ll surprise everyone by no longer being afraid.
• Seek independence, but nurture your family connections.

A tornado actually touched down in Lake Geneva that night. I guess when they broke ground to build that famous resort in 1967, a structurally sound foundation was formed. They say mothers and fathers never stop parenting their children, but they do stop raising them. I hope the class of 2024 has been provided a structurally sound foundation as they embark on adulthood. But when life gets twisted, I will always keep the lights on so my daughter can find her way home.

For more on my life adventures, check out my Memoir.