Here’s a trick to improve your writing. And yes, I often break this rule.

The Scottish author, Robert Louis Stevenson (1850 - 1894), rose to fame with two global masterpieces: Treasure Island and Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde.

This week, I read about his advice: Beware of Adjectives.

Stevenson treated adjectives like enemies. Instead, he leaned on nouns and verbs to create motion and sound. Believing descriptive words were mainly for decoration, the author argued they weakened prose and should only be used when necessary.

He compared adjectives to salt. A pinch enhanced flavor, but too much ruined the dish.

Once, when he critiqued a friend’s manuscript, he told her to avoid the phrase “climbing roses.” Then he offered an alternative: “Roses twined themselves round the apple trees and fell in showers from the branches.”

I think he makes a good point.

His compelling wisdom is a wonderful warning which rings like a golden, blaring bell.

Here’s a powerful hack for success: become known as a problem-solver.

Most people notice issues. But few take the extra step to think about solutions.

When you walk into a meeting with even one idea to move things forward, you stand apart. Make this your rule: Always Go With A Solution.

Always.

Over time, this will build your reputation. Opportunities come to those who alleviate stress instead of adding to it.

A boss who notices you lifting pressure off their shoulders will open doors for you.

Life seems to reward the proactive, not the passive. As someone once said, “A pessimist sees the difficulty in every opportunity; an optimist sees the opportunity in every difficulty.”

Problem-spotters are common. Solution-finders are rare.

There’s an old saying: “canaries in the coal mine.”

Miners once carried caged canaries deep underground because the birds reacted quickly to toxic gases like carbon monoxide. If the canary collapsed, it signaled danger.

Even after electronic detectors came along, workers still trusted the birds because they responded instantly. Over time, the expression became shorthand for any early-warning system, when small things point to bigger problems.

Tonight was the NFL opener featuring my favorite team, the Dallas Cowboys. Unfortunately, they lost. And while they showed flashes of greatness, a shaky defense and dropped passes were troubling signs.

Are these early “tells” for the rest of the season? An omen of what’s to come?

I hope the canaries stand strong.

I must be getting old.

Until about a week ago, I hadn’t heard of KPop Demon Hunters, Netflix's most-watched original film ever.

The soundtrack also became the first to land four songs in the top 10. There was even a recent two-day sing-along theater run which ruled the box office.

How did this happen? I used to know the trends.

Maybe now I’ll just wait for the karaoke version of The A-Team.

In north-central Ukraine, Kyiv endures regular bombings.

Life carries on as war-torn residents search for ways to feel normal. Recently, I read about something unusual that helps. At first glance, this might seem odd or even absurd. But it works.

A jellyfish museum.

The building serves as an escape where people don’t have to think about the conflict while watching these creatures gracefully drift. Glowing tanks release blue light, and the ambient space soothes visitors amidst the surrounding destruction. A hypnotic ballet providing peace.

But why jellyfish?

• They have existed for over 500 million years, one of the oldest living species on Earth

• They prove resilience isn’t always loud or combative

• They survive without a brain, heart, or bones, and they keep functioning even when damaged

• They've outlasted nuclear testing zones in oceans

• Watching them has been proven to lower blood pressure and reduce stress

Sometimes the best therapy is observing a creature too simple to panic.

What calms you down? Look for your own “jellyfish museum” — maybe a long, hot shower or a quiet park bench. Perhaps the ocean or a crackling fire. Maybe a garden, birds, or the stars.

Just find it.

Even in the hospital, Jake was a happy kid.

At 8yrs old, a scary bike crash left him with a deep gash on his chin that needed stitches. I rushed him to the ER, my heart pounding, but Jake grinned through the whole ordeal. The doctor finally shook his head and said, “I’ve never seen a kid this brave before.”

That’s Jake. No matter what he does, it’s never halfway.

Joy seems to propel him, and since the start, he’s always met life with wide eyes and full energy. I can still picture him almost skipping down the sidewalk because walking wasn’t fast enough for his excitement about each day.

Whether summer vacations, swim team, soccer, Halloween trick-or-treating, hanging up Christmas lights, or doing house projects — he would dive into them all with the same spark.

As a preteen, he once built a social media following of 30,000 people based on one of his favorite shows. Many times I’d pull into the driveway after work to find the lawn mowed and edged or the porch pressure washed, all done without a word. Those surprises carried his signature generosity.

But more than his energy or work ethic, what sets him apart is empathy. He listens deeply and offers comfort freely, finding ways to make others feel less alone.

Today, September 1st, is his birthday. And somehow that skipping kid is now grown up, still bringing light and making a difference wherever he goes.

Happy Birthday, Jake! Your joy inspires me.

A perfect fall day.

Cooler air crept in this weekend, and Jess and I had the house to ourselves.

We cooked steaks over the grill, then added sweet potato fries and salad. As the sun faded, we took Cali for an evening walk before lighting the deck’s fire pit while watching football on a nearby TV.

Does it get any better?

An interesting fact.

This week, I learned about a continent which occupies just 4% of the planet’s surface but has shaped history more than any other over the past 500 years.

Which one?

Europe (not including Russia).

Massive ripple effects have marked the continent's last five centuries in economics, science, politics, culture, and creativity.

Think of these minds:

Copernicus
Galileo
Newton
Einstein
Shakespeare
Voltaire
Michelangelo
Da Vinci
Rembrandt
Mozart
Beethoven
Picasso
Van Gogh

Oh yeah, they gave us The Beatles, too.

Never underestimate the impact of four percent.

The best Christmas gift.

At 13 years old, I found a jewelry-sized box under the tree with my name on it. My dad told me it was my “big” present, which drove me crazy trying to guess.

He confirmed it wasn’t money, and not a ring or necklace. His hints only deepened the mystery.

When Christmas morning finally arrived, I had to wait until the end to open the surprise. And inside the box, nestled on satin lining, rested a tiny key.

I stared at my dad, confused. Then with a grin, he motioned to his bedroom.

Racing through the doorway, my eyes landed on a brown container waiting on his bed. I recognized the shape instantly.

The case for a Bach Stradivarius trumpet.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. My dad even had my name engraved near the handle.

For four years, I had played on a cheap beginner model, but all that changed in one amazing moment. Inserting the key, I unlocked the latches and a silver Bach Strad gleamed back at me like the sun. Every serious player had one.

And man, did I use that horn. I performed in jazz bands, orchestras, marching bands, church services, musicals, and Boy Scout camps. High school, college, grad school. Even made a little money along the way.

Today, I don’t play often but the instrument still sits in my closet, a constant reminder of a father’s belief. Who knows? I may make a musical comeback.

Sometimes the best gifts come in the smallest packages.

Pink or blue?

Tonight was Reveal Night, as McKenzie and Will wanted to find out the gender of their 2026 baby.

First came the private moment. They went to a nearby beach, armed with pink and blue flowers.

McKenzie turned her back while Will opened the doctor’s email. Selecting the correct bouquet, he tapped her shoulder. When she spun around and saw the color, their celebration began right there in the sand.

But the night wasn’t done.

They drove to our place where we had the kids waiting on FaceTime (out of town at college and work).

Beforehand, we had placed pink and blue balloons in the garage. When the expectant parents arrived, they chose the secret color and tied them to Cali.

Then, at our cue, she burst into the living room, in full view of the camera.

And PINK balloons bounced behind her.

Ahhh, a little girl.

An unforgettable memory for our family. Heaven help our hearts.

A powerful principle.

This week, while prepping for a marketing workshop with William & Mary students, I thought about one of the simplest (but often overlooked) lessons.

The “What/Why.”

What = The details (time, location, cost)

Why = The outcome

Most marketers focus on the details (the What) but forget the deeper benefit (the Why). This is a huge mistake.

People are never just purchasing a product or attending an event. They’re investing in an upgraded version of their lives and subconsciously asking, “How will this make my life better?”

So, here’s a trick for uncovering the Why: add the phrase “so you can” after whatever you’re promoting.

Don’t just say, “Buy a Blackstone Grill!”

Instead, say, “Buy a Blackstone Grill — SO YOU CAN — finally cook restaurant-worthy burgers and steaks in your own backyard.”

When you discover the outcome, you’ve usually found your headline.

My all-time favorite TV theme songs.

I started thinking about this because of a conversation I had with Sam before he left for college.

Here’s my top 3:

3. Sanford and Son - Funky groove, soulful harmonica, smooth jazz… just right.

2. The Flintstones — I know, weird choice, but imagine it as a big band swinger, a brassy declaration of a stone-age good time.

1. Cheers — An emotional ballad that perfectly captures the show’s ethos, and most importantly, the longing for connection.

Honorable mentions: The Jefferson’s, Friends, The Andy Griffith Show, Love Boat, Growing Pains, The Dukes of Hazzard, Highway to Heaven.

If you could model yourself after a character from history or fiction, who would it be and why?

The question was posed at a work retreat last week, and one came to my mind from the movie screen:

Guido Orefice, the main character in Life is Beautiful, played by Roberto Benigni.

Guido, an Italian Jewish man, is one of the most positive figures in film. His optimism defines this Holocaust-era story, when his family is deported to a Nazi concentration camp.

Amazingly, Guido shields his young son from the horrors by pretending the ordeal is a game. How? By convincing the boy that if he follows the rules — such as hiding from guards and staying quiet — he will win an army tank.

Against all odds, the father’s humor and imagination preserves his son’s innocence, allowing the child to survive and later “win” the tank, just as promised.

Guido’s optimism is an act of defiance and models how joy can coexist alongside hardship. Which brings me to my own definition: Optimism is the stubborn courage to imagine light in dark situations.

When I think of Guido, I’m inspired to live and think better.

Did you know a lightning bolt can be five times hotter than the sun?

One night as a boy, I stood in our kitchen during a summer storm. The door to our side porch was open, letting in the smell of rain and the low growl of thunder.

Then it happened. The world lit up.

A blast of bright white ripped through the porch and zapped the fluorescent bulb above my head.

Lightning. Pure shock and fear.

Experts say there’s a one in a million chance of being struck, but I nearly beat the odds. A few more feet and I would have joined the club. To this day, I still flinch when thunder cracks too close.

Recently, I read about a “megaflash” strike that stretched 515 miles (average is 2-10 miles) across 5 states and lasted over seven seconds.

Compared to that, my little kitchen jolt feels quaint.

Oh well, I was (almost) the brightest boy in the room.

A great story of Luke.

In middle school, he met the owner of the Peninsula Pilots, a summer collegiate baseball team. At that point, Luke dreamed of sports broadcasting.

With his typical self-assurance, he walked up and asked if the media booth had any openings. The position was already filled, but the owner admired this 13-year-old’s initiative and offered him a job with the promise of broadcasting time.

So the entire season, I shuttled Luke back and forth to War Memorial Stadium, a historic ballpark in Hampton, where he tackled any task. Then one evening, he finally climbed into the announcer’s booth for a few glorious innings.

Luke’s courage to simply ask, to take a chance, carried him into other unexpected roles at young ages: a financial firm, a state senator’s office, and eventually a college internship at a major Boston tech firm.

To make it happen, he found an apartment in Beantown, then drove twelve hours to get there, not knowing anyone. But his leap of faith paid off when the company offered him a full-time role after graduation.

Opportunities arrive for many people. Some fail to see them, others hesitate in fear. But Luke possesses a special talent for turning them into something remarkable. His mix of confidence and a relentless work ethic sets him apart.

Today, on this August 24, we celebrate the day he entered the world.

Happy Birthday, Luke.

Next… maybe talk your way into the box at Fenway.

A beach all to ourselves.

Here’s how it unfolded:

• A ferry ride across the James River

• Landing at the Scotland Wharf in Surry County

• A 15-minute drive to Chippokes State Park, nestled on the river’s south bank

• Walking down a steep gravel trail to shoreline

• A long, sandy stroll to a secluded stretch

• Leaving the main area for a small opening in the treeline

• Taking the hidden path along wooded twists and turns

• Stepping out of the brush to our own tiny cove, a private beach the size of a living room

• Spreading a blanket and enjoying a picnic with the water lapping just a few feet away

A perfect Saturday afternoon with Jess and Cali, even if paradise took a bit of work to get there.

Date nights are special.

I think of our earliest ones, when Jess’s little sister, Molly, often joined as a fun tagalong.

Then I look to this season of life, the house suddenly quiet now that the kids are grown. But the constant through it all has been our commitment to dating.

We've prioritized romance, even when our kids were small, thanks to family who stepped in so we could hit the town.

Tonight, we explored the new location of an old restaurant favorite. A forty-five-minute wait simply gave an excuse to wander through surrounding stores and stretch our legs.

We enjoyed yummy food and great conversation — the best way to cap the work week.

This habit deserves protecting forever.

Maybe we should even invite Molly to join us again.

How many people does it take to make a pencil?

The question sounds silly at first, yet I love using it with teams. Economist Leonard Read inspired the concept back in 1958 with his essay, “I, Pencil.”

The big idea? This humble tool is far too complicated for a single person to produce alone.

Creating one requires a vast and invisible web of cooperation, starting with the harvesting of a tree. Imagine the loggers, truck drivers, and the workers in sawmills and factories.

But a pencil is more than just cedar wood. Consider the graphite, glue, paint, metal, and rubber, with each component requiring more experts. Miners extract ore. Chemists produce synthetic mixtures. Then there’s shipping and distribution.

Layer by layer, the number grows countless. Tens of thousands of people, maybe hundreds of thousands, contribute directly and indirectly.

One object carries global stories. So the next time you pick up a pencil, think about the multitude of hidden hands who made it possible.

Suddenly, snapping one in half feels like a crime.

Why do I write a daily blog?

On January 12th, 2025, I challenged myself: one post a day, for an entire year.

Each entry is about capturing family life snapshots while stitching in some tales from the past. A time capsule of our history, told using bite-sized storytelling.

This week I read an article that many wealthy retirees are investing in ghostwritten memoirs, some costing as much as $100,000, to document their lives for loved ones.

I’m doing the same thing, but with my own words and without the price tag. And the plan is to turn these crazy insights into a printed keepsake.

Come January 12, 2026, the daily blogs will fade to black.

Maybe I’ll finally take up pickleball.

This summer, Sam watched the show How I Met Your Mother, which inspired today’s blog post.

So… to my kids, who may wonder, “Dad, how did you meet Mom?”

Rewind to 1994. My grad school roommate, Chris, was a youth pastor who held an event at a local YMCA and invited me to tag along. Jessica, who attended his church, stood inside watching whatever the teens were doing. I stepped up beside her and said Hello.

That was it. Just a simple greeting at a “chance” encounter.

But months later, when I became a part of the congregation, we got to know each other better. Another year and a half went by — August 1995 — until we started dating.

By then, she couldn’t resist me.

Sometimes fate doesn’t come with fireworks or an a-ha moment, but slips in quietly, during an ordinary evening at an unexpected place.

That’s why life is such a great adventure.

Now turn up the song and form the letters with your arms: Y-M-C-A.