how do I tell the world what's in my heart?
Sometimes the hardest thing is the rightest thing.
I'm going to share some news with you that's both difficult and deeply personal.
After much prayer and reflection, I've made the decision to retire from retail, and close the physical building part of Rutabaga Paddlesports, effective at the end of 2025. We’re still around a few more months, but I wanted to announce it now.
This decision wasn't made lightly or quickly, believe me. It was one of the hardest things I have ever done. Let me tell you why I'm making this choice now.
I started in the paddlesports industry in 1990, selling canoes on weekends when I had a “real job” working at the State of Wisconsin Bureau of Public Health. Rutabaga has been my third major career change, psychologist/statistician, epidemiologist, then business owner. I became a full-time manager in 1994, GM in 2000, co-owner in 2002, and sole owner in 2007. This journey has been one of the greatest joys of my life.
I believe that life teaches you lessons, and when you've learned what you need to learn, it's time to move on to the next chapter. I thought I’d work at Rutabaga for a few years, get some management experience, then move on. Well, I didn’t stop learning things. Every time I thought I was ready to move on, something threw a wrench into my complacency gears, and the learning continued. I mean, I bought a business when Amazon just started selling books and e-commerce was an unknown. Talk about a learning curve.
I was given some great advice by my friend Michael Hodgson, who said “When you leave a business, leave on your own terms.” My next move is to answer a calling to serve in a different way.
After my heart attack a few years ago, I started to consider my future, and almost dying led me to comfort and support those who are on a similar though more proximate journey, as well as their families. I’ve had some amazing experiences in the last three or four years, volunteering as a hospice chaplain and working with patients and their families. I have always found deep meaning in helping people, and it’s time to keep doing that in a different way. Chaplaincy is calling my name, and I must answer.
Sitting with someone who is about to cross over is a deeply humbling experience. As experiences go, it’s as real as you can get. Sometimes conversations with the dying are profound, sometimes they’re light-hearted, but they’re always always real. If you want an exercise in being present, do hospice work.
I’m going back to school part-time next Winter for my Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE), which is the certification you need to be a professional chaplain. I'll be interning at University Hospital while I complete my certification, then I’ll be the guy in the emergency room or the hospice wing or anywhere people need me. You may find me just checking in with people who are sad or lonely.
Rutabaga is more than a shop, and what I'm most proud of is our community. We haven't just sold stuff; we've helped create communities that teach people to enjoy the outdoors and build relationships with nature and each other. Anyone reading this has been essential to that mission.
I did explore other options. I looked into selling the business, finding someone to take it over. Honestly, I couldn't find a way to ensure that would continue at the same standard. I’ve seen too many businesses purchased and run into the ground, and it’s ugly, so I'd rather close on a high note than see what we've created diminished. We just hit 995 reviews on Google with a 4.9 star rating. That doesn’t just happen. The Rutabaga staff are the best people I know, and I am truly grateful for all of them.
But what about Canoecopia?
Oh, that was a non-negotiable. Canoecopia will continue.
Canoecopia has been a gathering place for our paddling community for over 40 years, and I can't imagine the world without it. I'll continue organizing it, and we already have 35 exhibitors signing up for 2026, and the link went out just a few days ago. Canoecopia will be a part-time seasonal responsibility, which gives me the flexibility to pursue my chaplain work.
You haven't just been customers to me. You've been partners in building something meaningful. You've been my teachers—I've learned as much from you as I hope I've taught you. You've been friends who've made this journey joyful, and I care deeply about all of you.
Now, many of you will ask “What can I do to help?” Some of you already have. The best thing you can do is buy a boat, paddle, gear, clothing, or all of the above, please. I have about three months to sell everything in the shop and the warehouses. That’ll be a tough order.
To quote baseball legend Lou Gehrig, “I consider myself to be the luckiest man in the world.”
I also feel like George Bailey, lectured by Clarence the Angel, from It’s a Wonderful Life: “Each man’s life touches so many other lives…Remember, George: no man is a failure who has friends.”
By that standard, I am too blessed for me to imagine.
Joseph Campbell famously said to “follow your bliss and don't be afraid, and doors will open where you didn't know they were going to be.” I’m taking leap into the bliss abyss, and it feels right.
I’m not disappearing. I will see many of you on the water, I’m sure of that, and at Canoecopia as well!
Enjoy your Sunday,
Darren (and Stephanie)
Thank you. Thank you for helping us all on our paddling journeys, for sharing your life with us in your Sunday musings, and an even bigger thank you for what you are doing in your next chapter. My mom recently passed after a brief hospice stay and I can't tell you how much I appreciated the kindness, warmth, and compassion of the staff and volunteers there. Thank you for joining their ranks and bringing comfort to those who need it.
Good luck in this [not so] new path, Darren. Anyone would be lucky to have you by their side as they navigate the liminal spaces between mortality and beyond.