I love summer. And I hate Labor Day…because it signals that three months of sun-drenched, water-logged fun has come to an end.

That’s why tonight I am in mourning. All I can think of is the lyrics of one of my favorite Jimmy Buffet songs, The Coast is Clear. He tells the story of another summer gone by:

They’re closin’ down the hangout.
The air is turnin’ cool.
They’re shuttin’ off the superslide,
The kids are back in school.

Today Hugh Michael, Haley, my wife and I closed summer down and squeezed out every last morsel of fun. We were the last ones out of the water; and the last ones to order from the snack bar.  We saw the umbrellas being put away for another season. And we watched as the sun set over the pool deck.

The kids seemed to know summer was ending too.  They were eerily calm. They ate their dinner slowly, knowing school awaited them in less than 24 hours.

As I watched, I thought of our fun together. The excitement of watching fish swim by in the warm waters of the Florida Keys. Enjoying 4th of July fireworks with friends (my wife’s favorite holiday). The shouts of delight on the playground and going down the “big kids” slide. Long bike rides around the neighborhoods.  Making new friends in our new hometown.  And, of course, fast rides on the boat.

Tomorrow, Hugh Michael and Haley will trade in their crocs and flip flops for real shoes and their bathing suits for school clothes. And I’ll be counting down the days to Memorial Day, when another summer begins!

Three generations of football fans on a beautiful Saturday afternoon. My dad took me to my first game when I was about Hugh Michael's age...and I'll never forget it!

As families across America stop and celebrate Father’s Day today, it has me thinking about what it means to be a dad. And, more importantly, how my kids will remember me years from now.

In the last month, I have attended three funerals. One for the grandmother of a colleague at work. Another for a too-young-to-pass away neighbor. And the third was for the wife of a dear friend.

While each of these were very different people, there was something amazingly consistent about each service — the eulogies.

The memories shared and the stories told had nothing to do with how much money was made, how much stuff was acquired or how many professional accomplishments were achieved.

Nope. For those of us who spend more time at the office than at home or who consistently try to keep up with the family next door, I’ve got some bad news:

None of that matters when we’re gone.

If the three eulogies I heard most recently are any guide, the ONLY thing that matters is time spent with our kids and living life with joy and good humor.

Here are some examples I heard.

I heard a granddaughter reflect on Christmas with her grandmother. It seems that grandma liked to shop at thrift stores for gifts. That often meant mismatched jewelry, clothes that were the wrong sizes or gadgets that had long ago seen their better days.

Now I can imagine that as a kid, such gifts were not a highlight of the holiday season. After all, what little girl wants one gold and one silver earring in the same box? Or what little boy wants a flashlight that has no bulb? But years later, those same gifts were the source of big laughs and brights smiles inside the funeral home. In fact, there was unanimous agreement among the grand kids that these bargain basement throwaways were actually treasures from grandma’s heart. Each specially selected and, years later, recalled fondly. Funny that the more expensive gifts were long ago forgotten, but the blue light specials can still be recalled with vivid detail.

I then heard a long-time friend tell of traveling with his now deceased friend (my neighbor Bill) and their families to a mountain resort for a winter ski vacation. And you know what memory was being recalled? Not the majestic views of the snow-capped mountains. Not the great meals and drinks by the fire. Not the records while set skiing down the mountain.

He recalled, instead, the story of a young son making snow angels in the freshly fallen powder. It seems Bill was really taken by those angels. Apparently, throughout the trip, Bill kept saying, “My son makes the best snow angels.” Imagine the pride that child felt hearing his dad complement him that way. I’ll bet he still remembers it twenty years later.

Finally, I heard the eulogy of a wife, mother, grandmother and community volunteer. The biggest laugh came at a story of her spray painting her white station wagon to save money…even though the finances weren’t tight in the family. The biggest smiles came recalling the literally hundreds of foreign exchange students she cooked for, housed and mentored over a lifetime. She didn’t have to do it, but the world is a better place because of her service.

Each of these folks gave the gift of time. Really puts things in perspective doesn’t it? There’s always a new X-Box version to be acquired because “Johnny’s dad just bought him one.” Another dollar to be made. Another promotion to be pursued.

But there’s nothing more precious than time. Our kids deserve nothing less.