By Brad Cates, President & CEO, Sarreid Ltd.
Welcome to July—those 90-degree days that practically hum with the sound of swimming pool splashes, cicadas, and suitcase zippers. For many, it’s vacation season. For those of us in the home furnishings and design world, it’s something more: a season of pause, of reflection, and—if we’re lucky—a bit of inspiration.
Normally, this is the space where I’d offer some thoughts on design direction, encouragement for the creative journey, or maybe a glimpse into what’s happening behind the scenes at Sarreid. But this time, something personal happened that shifted my focus.
As I sat down to write, my screen saver flickered on, cycling through a montage of family photos—each one a July memory. I found myself smiling at snapshots of sandy toes, full dinner tables, backyard sparklers, and sleepy sunsets over water. I was momentarily lost in memories: beach trips, lake days, potlucks, parties, and the evolving cast of children and friends who’ve filled our summers over the years.
It made me pause. Why has July always been so special to me? And almost instantly, I knew the answer.
Because we’re furniture people.
For most Americans, July is about summer. For my family—and likely for many of you—it has always been more than that. It’s a window in time, carved out by the rhythms of an industry that shaped us.
I was born into this world. Literally. At High Point Memorial Hospital. The son of a paint chemist and a high school teacher, my life revolved around Market dates, manufacturing cycles, and the heartbeat of this industry long before I ever understood what a “lead time” was.
Back when domestic manufacturing reigned supreme, factories across the South would shut down for the Fourth of July week. Production lines would go quiet, and we would scatter—families taking off to beach cottages, lake houses, or mountain cabins. Not just a break in the calendar, but a built-in rhythm of renewal that said, “Go make some memories.”
As a child, we alternated between lake and beach destinations. Both magical. Both filled with fishing rods, picnic tables, and the joyful chaos of extended families reuniting.
When Jodi and I married, we started leaning toward the beach—fireworks, farmers markets, and the low country’s salty charm. Then came our daughters, and with them a renewed cycle of lake trips, sand castles, and sunscreen battles. We made very sure the Fourth of July was always something exceptional.
And maybe the best part? My wife Jodi was born on July 4th. That’s always felt like more than a coincidence. For years, our girls believed the fireworks were for her birthday—and honestly, I never had the heart to correct them. Some myths are too joyful to break.
Now, with our daughters grown and stepping into the world, July has slowed down a bit—unless our granddaughter is in town. Then the ice cream flows, the paddleboards get dusted off, and bedtime becomes more of a suggestion than a rule.
I wouldn’t trade those boardwalk memories, melted cones, sunburned noses, or the thrill of teaching a friend to water ski for anything. They’re a part of me—part of the way I see life, the way I see home.
Because at the heart of it all, home is what we’re really building, isn’t it? Not just for clients, but for ourselves and the people we love. Whether it’s a beach house built to age with grace, a dining table that hosts a hundred meals, or a vintage chair that sparks a memory of a grandparent’s home, our work is not just about beautiful things. It’s about the lives they hold.
As the industry changes—and it has, radically—I still owe a debt to those who came before us. They not only built companies and created furniture, they unknowingly built a sacred space in my heart for the month of July.
So wherever this post finds you—on a porch, at the beach, or between installs—I hope July gives you a little pause, a little magic, and a few memories worth framing.
From our Sarreid family to yours, Happy Fourth.
Warmly,
Brad
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