Revenue Diaries Entry 10

Unfortunately, for those of you expecting tips and tricks around marketing, this week’s edition doesn’t have any.

Maybe it’s the end of another year. Maybe it’s turning 40. Maybe it’s watching my kids create their own memories with family over the holidays. Maybe it’s tinkering with the Pennebaker experiment (more on that later). Perhaps it’s all of those things. I’ve been very introspective over the last couple of months.

And I’ve been trying to write a semblance of this letter over the last three years. It’s been a struggle because I’ve always felt I could never do it justice—to tell the story of a person who impacted my life. But there have been multiple moments in recent months where I’ve written about the importance of experiencing moments, being present, and living fully.

So it seems fitting to write, at least briefly, about my Aunt Wendy.

I was born in Spokane, Washington, but I’ve spent most of my life in Indiana. When I was very young, we moved there, and most of my extended family lived in Washington and Idaho.

I’ll always thank my parents for committing to traveling to the Northwest almost every summer while I was growing up. Those trips were the highlight of my year. We got to see my cousins, which was an adventure in itself.

And primarily because of the river property.

In the 1990s, my aunt Wendy and Uncle Duane purchased property between Priest River and Sandpoint, Idaho, which became the central gathering spot for our family every summer. Over the years, they spent significant time and resources turning that property into a haven for the family. It evolved with us, growing to accommodate our ever-expanding group and becoming a place of shared memories and moments.

The property was unique for many reasons. As a kid, it felt like an adventure. Boarding a plane to visit family in a faraway state made me feel special. I could tell my friends that I was born in Washington and my cousins were dirt bike racers and wakeboarders.

“Have you heard of Fox Racing? No? Well, me neither, but look at my cousin Spencer's cool hat. Yeah, I bought one too.”

The property was more than just a novelty. It was a place where, no matter what was happening in life, we had those sacred three to five days to spend together—to break bread, reminisce, laugh, and cry.

My mom’s side of the family does a lot of crying, and I say that with all the love.

At some point, the property earned the name “The Magic Cabin,” and the name fit. Weddings were celebrated there, including my own. But the real magic wasn’t just the place—it was Wendy.

Aunt Wendy lived for those summer family gatherings. She was always the first to sit down and ask about your life, how you were doing, and how you felt. She was the glue, making everyone feel seen and valued. She was fully present and engaged in every second the family spent together.

The best part of every trip was arriving. Whether at the airport or the river, we’d always be greeted with a hug from Wendy. It wasn’t just any hug; it was the kind you felt, a hug that told you you were loved and that your presence mattered.

Wendy's specialty was being present and engaged, extending far beyond the summer trips to the Magic Cabin. She would write, call, and text. She went out of her way to invest in your life.

And it wasn’t just the moments I remember; she was like that her entire life, from childhood to the very end, when she passed away after an 18-year battle with chronic lymphocytic leukemia in 2021.

Her passing left a hole in our family, and unsurprisingly, the Magic Cabin feels a little less magical without her. Yet, we try to continue the trips and honor her legacy, working to keep the Magic Cabin a little more magical for our kids.

One of the greatest joys of my life is that my kids had the chance to experience some of that magic before Wendy passed. They got to feel the love and presence she brought to every moment.

Wendy's life offers plenty of lessons, and I may eventually write a book about her and the Magic Cabin. But the main lesson I’ll never forget is that Wendy fully lived in the present.

She was fully engaged and lived the moments we’re now all nostalgic for.

It will always remind me, perhaps all of us, that true magic happens when we live in the present. So, as we welcome the new year, let’s all try to be a little more like Wendy.

❤️ kyle