Why we should preserve our lake heritage

There was a time when going to the lake was simply what Rochesterians did. On warm summer afternoons, families packed their cars and headed north toward Charlotte. Children ran barefoot through the sand. Parents unfolded lawn chairs, unpacked picnic baskets, and opened those unmistakable yellow Kodak coolers. The smell of sunscreen mixed with the breeze coming off Lake Ontario. The carousel turned, the waves rolled in, and for a few hours, the concerns of everyday life seemed a little farther away. You didn’t need much money. You didn’t need a reservation. You just needed a beautiful afternoon and somewhere to spread a blanket. The lake belonged to everyone.

I wonder whether we still feel that way.

Recently, President Donald Trump’s effort to rename Lake Ontario as “Lake America” prompted an understandable wave of indignation across our community. Rochesterians were quick to defend the lake’s name, its history, and its place in our regional identity. And rightly so. Lake Ontario’s name carries centuries of history, including Indigenous origins that long predate the United States and Canada. It is not merely a label on a map. It is part of the geography and identity of this region.

But amid our collective outrage, I found myself wondering something. When was the last time most of us actually went to the lake? Not drove past it. Not admired a photograph of it. Not talked about how beautiful it is. When was the last time we packed up the family and spent an afternoon at Ontario Beach Park? I suspect it’s an uncomfortable question, but one worth asking.

The lake we remember

Rochester has always had a complicated relationship with its own identity. For generations, we were the city of Kodak, Xerox, and Bausch + Lomb. Those companies shaped our economy, our neighborhoods, and our sense of civic pride. Their names were synonymous with Rochester itself. Over time, our economy changed. The industrial giants that once defined us diminished, and we were left to reconsider what kind of city we would become. But through it all, one thing remained. The Lake.

The same Lake Ontario that welcomed generations of families still stretches across our northern horizon. The same waves reach the shore at Charlotte. The same sunsets paint the water in colors that would make even the most accomplished photographer pause. No corporate restructuring could take that away. And no presidential executive order can erase what the lake means to us. Yet perhaps there is another way to lose something. Not through a change in ownership or a name on a map, but through indifference. Through the gradual disappearance of familiar traditions. Through the quiet decision to stop showing up.

When headlines replace memories

In recent months, Ontario Beach Park has made headlines for reasons that concern many of us. Unstructured gatherings, fights, and questions about public safety have dominated conversations about the waterfront. Local officials have responded with additional security measures and increased police presence. These concerns are real. Families deserve to feel safe in public spaces. Businesses along the waterfront deserve an environment where customers feel welcome. Young people too, how quickly we forget them, deserve safe places to gather and enjoy their city.

But we should be careful not to allow a handful of incidents to define an entire place—or an entire generation of young people. A public park cannot fulfill its purpose if the community begins to abandon it, and I wonder whether we sometimes contribute to the very problem we lament.

When families stop coming, when older generations retreat, when ordinary afternoons at the beach become less common, we lose something more than attendance. We lose the shared experience of community. We lose opportunities for different generations, neighborhoods, and backgrounds to occupy the same public space, not as strangers divided by headlines, but as Rochesterians enjoying something that belongs to all of us. The answer to change cannot simply be withdrawal. It must also include a renewed commitment to showing up.

Reasons to return

Fortunately, there are encouraging signs that this commitment has not disappeared completely across our region as varying reports show some signs, while inconsistent, of attendance growth in the past 20 years. This summer marked the 40th season of Concerts by the Shore, a free Wednesday evening tradition that continues to bring music and community life to Ontario Beach Park. The 2026 lineup included the Rochester Philharmonic Orchestra, the Skycoasters, La Nueva Secuencia, and a variety of other performers. These concerts offered something increasingly rare: an opportunity for people from across the region to gather, enjoy music, and share an experience without the price of admission becoming a barrier.

And the concerts are hardly the only reason to visit. The historic carousel still turns. The pier still invites long walks. The beach still offers children the simple pleasure of digging their hands into the sand. Community events, local businesses, and dedicated volunteers continue to invest in the waterfront’s future. These efforts deserve more than our applause. They deserve our participation.

Because a thriving waterfront is not created by government investment alone. Nor is it sustained solely by the merchants and community organizations who work so hard to keep it welcoming. It requires us.

John Paul Perez is an Irondequoit resident.

The Beacon welcomes comments and letters from readers who adhere to our comment policy including use of their full, real name. See “Leave a Reply” below to discuss on this post. Comments of a general nature may be submitted to the Letters page by emailing [email protected].