Today marked Day 1 of an unforgettable weekend party.

Our family gathered to honor Jess’s parents on their 50th anniversary. Loved ones rolled in from Denver, Atlanta, Virginia Beach, Norfolk, Boston, Richmond, and Williamsburg.

By the time we counted heads, twenty-five of us filled one enormous rental property on North Carolina’s Lake Norman.

The place had a name — The Gray Fox — and offered three stories of fun right on the water. It included a dock, pool, waterslide, hot tub, ping-pong table, and fire pit. Also paddle boards and a kayak.

Inside, every room revealed more surprises. Bunk beds each had a personal TV and headphones. Downstairs turned into a competition zone with a pool table and a PlayStation 5.

Yet nothing topped the crown jewel of the house. Tucked away in its own corner stood a full-blown movie theater. A massive screen. A projector. Three rows of cushioned leather seats, fifteen in all.

We came for the lake but stayed for the surround sound.

What is the perfect pop song?

Someone recently tossed out a contender: Hanson’s “MMMBop.”

That one wasn't even on my short list. But there’s a good argument. Released in 1997, the track climbed to number one and even earned two Grammy nominations, including Record of the Year.

Its unusual chord shifts are far more complex than most bubblegum pop. And there are no wasted bars in its runtime.

Definitely worth a deeper listen.

What's my pick for a masterful tune? So many, but how about Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody” or Ambrosia’s “Biggest Part of Me”?

Just throwing a couple out there.

This changed everything.

Back in college, I discovered the ultimate life hack for reading scripture: The One Year Bible.

Every day presented passages from the Old and New Testaments, along with a Psalm and Proverb. Following the daily plan helped me finish the Good Book in a single year. I felt so modern and efficient.

But now, something new has arrived… the AI Bible.

A company called Pray.com is using generative AI to turn biblical stories into ten-minute cinematic films. Before animations are created, pastors and theologians review the scripts.

The goal is to reach people (especially younger or non-Christian audiences), hoping to spark curiosity and further reading. Creators describe it as “edu-tainment.”

Maybe my next Bible will come with popcorn.

Who’s coming to dinner?

In a recent interview, someone asked actress Julia Roberts who she would invite for a dream night out.

She wisely started with her husband. Then came Jesus, Joni Mitchell, Virginia Woolf, Van Morrison, and her best friend from high school.

This got me thinking about my guest list.

Jesus is my #1 pick, followed by a roundup of history’s most destructive leaders. This includes Hitler, Stalin, Mao Zedong, and Kim Il Sung.

The thought of them gathered around Jesus intrigues me. I'd love to hear the dialogue and watch the way truth might land. A chance for each one to encounter God, with lots of heavy conversation. An evening I wouldn’t want to miss.

If I wanted a more relaxed dinner, not including my family (always my first choice), then I’d bring in longtime buddies I haven’t seen in years: Chris, Allen, Randall, Trent, Jon, Scott, and Mark, to name a few.

The meal would be all inside jokes and stories retold for the tenth time.

Both lists remind me that who sits around the table matters more than what’s served.

I squeezed five years of college out of four.

That wasn’t my master plan since I didn’t particularly enjoy school, outside of the friendships.

My freshman year was at UNC-Charlotte, followed by two years of commuting from Burlington to UNC-Greensboro.

During my last semester at UNCG, something stirred in me. Ministry caught my interest. A few conversations and connections later, I found myself transferring to a small campus in northeast Georgia called Emmanuel. A big leap, but a good one.

That two-year program stands out as my favorite. I learned so much, surrounded by people who shaped me in lasting ways. Many of those connections remain strong even now.

After Emmanuel, doors opened once again, this time leading to a three-year master's degree at Regent University in Virginia Beach. I never planned on such a winding path, but life has a way of redirecting steps.

Looking back, the journey feels like a series of side roads which turned into destinations. Every shift, every unexpected choice, carried me closer to where I was meant to be.

And all those educational adventures finally led me to Jessica while at Regent. Today, more than 30 years later, we live about an hour from the campus.

Emmanuel gave me friendships, but Regent gave me Jess.

Who knew detours could be so scenic?

Growing up in the South, Steve was the most southern guy I knew.

I met him when I was sixteen, working my first job at Mr. C’s Car Wash. On slow days he’d fill the time with dirty jokes. And while his humor could be rough around the edges, his heart was pure gold.

Steve had a generosity of spirit to go along with his country accent. His drawl made every story sound better, and the cowboy boots and big truck sealed his legend.

Even after I left that job, we regularly grabbed meals together. Steve once drove to see me when I moved to Virginia Beach, and while there, he dragged me to a saddlery store where they sold Western wear. It was like walking into a John Wayne film.

Years later, he stood beside me as a groomsman in my wedding. His gift to me? A book full of erotic photographs, telling me with a wink that it would prepare me for marriage. Classic Steve.

Sixteen years ago, he suddenly passed away from a heart attack. The call hit hard, and my world dimmed.

Every time I pass that saddlery store, I think of Steve. And for a moment, I’m riding shotgun in his truck once again.

Jerry was my stepdad back in the ‘80s.

We bonded over sports. Football, basketball, and then… Mike Tyson boxing matches. In those days, all of Tyson’s bouts were on HBO, and we made it essential viewing.

In his college years, Jerry played center at Ohio State University for legendary coach Woody Hayes. His 1961 team became national champions.

As a proud Ohio native, his love for the Buckeyes almost converted me. During my senior year, we took a road trip there to visit his family, walk around campus, and of course, tour the stadium. For a brief moment, I thought about trading my Mid-Atlantic roots for Buckeye Nation.

Why didn’t I go to OSU? One word: COLD. I’m not a winter guy.

Jerry passed away far too soon. Next month marks fifteen years since he’s been gone. He made a mark on my life, and I think of him anytime the Buckeyes take the field. Or when I see old clips of Tyson.

I’d sit through a blizzard now to watch a game with him.

Something you should know about my grandmother.

Her name was Hilda Forrester, but I called her Nannie. I was 34 when she passed and never once saw her get mad. Peace seemed to rest within her.

Growing up, her house served as my safe place. Endless meals… like French toast, country-style steak, pinto beans, veggies, brown-and-serve rolls, mac and cheese. A pitcher of sweet tea and a box of Little Debbie oatmeal cookies always waited in the kitchen.

Most weekends were spent with her and Paw Paw, focusing on three things: drawing cartoons, watching TV, and listening to music. This was before I could drive and got busy doing teenager stuff.

A couple of months ago while visiting my hometown, I uncovered a stack of letters she had written me when I went away to college. She faithfully mailed me 2-3 handwritten pages and gave me updates, addressing them to “Brian Allen.”

For 16 years, she lived as a widow. During that time, she never grumbled. Her heart was her family, and I knew she thought about me every day.

Peace lived in Nannie.

Thinking of her makes it still live in me.

The most expensive loogie in history.

A couple weeks ago, in the first game of the NFL season, an Eagles defensive tackle spit on Cowboys quarterback Dak Prescott. Officials tossed him out before he even played a snap.

The league fined him $57,222, equal to his pay for one game.

That moment reminded me of the importance of controlling emotions. A split-second decision can stain a reputation.

Careless words or gestures could overshadow years of positive work. People remember the misstep longer than the steady good.

Respect is earned slowly but can be lost instantly.

Teaching yourself to pause before reacting is a tremendous skill, and this simple habit might prevent damage that takes months or years to repair.

Life often magnifies the little things. A dumb action unravels opportunities, while caring acts done consistently build influence.

Everything has consequences, so consider the real cost.

The price tag could be far higher than $57,222.

While in Boston, Luke shared a golden truth with me: the SCIPAB acrostic.

He uses this tool during high-stakes presentations and briefings. A string of six letters that looks like nothing at first, but turns into a secret code once you know how to apply it.

SCIPAB.

Situation: State a clear fact about the circumstance.

Complication: Point out a problem standing in the way.

Implication: Explain what happens if the problem is ignored.

Position: Present your solution.

Action: Recommend the next move.

Benefit: Describe the positive outcome if the recommendation is followed

The beauty of this little method comes when someone throws you a tough question. Instead of fumbling, just slip into SCIPAB mode and suddenly you’re impossible to trip up.

A framework worth stealing.

We squeezed every drop of adventure out of our final day.

• Spent the night at the Wayfinder Hotel, close to Newport’s downtown.

• Grabbed coffee at the Nitro Bar, named for their signature coffee which is infused with nitrogen gas under pressure, creating tiny bubbles and giving the drink a creamy texture and sweet taste. Their TikTok posts have made them a lot busier.

• After more downtown shopping, we boarded the Aquidneck, a gorgeous schooner with a crew of 3. On our 1.5-hour sail through Narragansett Bay, we saw the massive Pell Bridge and 20-acre Fort Adams (which hosts the famous Newport Jazz Festival), along with lots of historic homes. There was even an unusual house built on a rocky outcrop which locals call the “House on the Rock.”

• Pizza lunch at Bar ‘Cino restaurant, a well-known spot in Newport’s Washington Square. Customers cut their thin-crust (“grilled pizza”) at the table with large scissor shears, which is part of the charm.

• After more shopping, we drove around Ocean Drive, a beautiful road looping past jaw-dropping mega-mansions and coastal views. Eye candy the whole way.

• Back to the Boston airport — where we were sad to say goodbye to Luke, the MVP of the day. He drove the whole time and then kindly returned the rental car for us.

• After landing in Richmond and driving an hour to Williamsburg, we got home around 12:30am.

An incredible 4-day getaway.

We left Boston for some fun in Rhode Island.

• We picked up a rental from the airport: a 2025 Jeep Wrangler with only 600 miles on it. Felt kinda cool being part of the “Jeep Wave” tradition, a friendly gesture between Jeep drivers.

• Before leaving the city, we stopped by Tatte Bakery & Café for breakfast on the go. It’s known for mixing Mediterranean and Israeli flavors with classic European and American treats. Yum Yum.

• Made the 1.5 hour trip to Newport. Rhode Island, following the same route wealthy families in horse-drawn coaches once traveled to their summer mansions.

• Fun Fact: the actual location is called Aquidneck Island and is about 22 miles long and 5 miles wide. It contains three towns: Newport, Middletown, and Portsmouth.

• Newport is filled with stunning mansions from the late 19th / early 20th centuries. We toured the Breakers mansion, built in the 1890s by the Vanderbilts. It’s unreal — 70 rooms, five floors, and about 140,000 square feet of opulence, sitting on ocean-cliff property. The rooms showcase elaborate plasterwork, marble, and mosaics, and the HBO show “The Gilded Age” filmed scenes there.

• After the tour, we caught an Uber ride and cheered as the Cowboys beat the Giants in overtime.

• We then headed to the Castle Hill Inn, which offers sweeping views over Narragansett Bay and the Atlantic coastline. The lawn area is filled with Adirondack chairs, and we sat and watched as a Princess Cruises cruise ship passed by, playing the “Love Boat” theme song on its air horns. Only old people like me recognized the tune.

• Dinner at The Mooring Seafood Kitchen & Bar, which sits on Sayer’s Wharf on Newport’s historic waterfront. The vibe was a nautical/harbor aesthetic, and our table had views of the water, docked boats, and a spectacular sunset.

• After dinner, we popped in and out of little souvenir shops and listened to a live band for a bit.

• Before heading to our hotel, a lady was singing on the sidewalk. She asked passersby for any leftover food, saying she was hungry. We offered her a bag of honey bread from the Mooring restaurant, but she declined, saying she preferred chocolate. I guess she wasn’t that hungry.

Another full, beautiful day.

Quite possibly the greatest tourism day of all time.

• Started the morning with a tour of Luke’s office, the 17-story PTC tower rising over the Seaport district. Elliptically shaped, the open-plan interior mixes huddle rooms with café‐type casual spaces. Amazing views of Boston Harbor and the cluster of restaurants and shops.

• Breakfast and coffee at PopUp Bagels. The crowd stretched out the door but totally worth the wait. The bagels offer a crispier crust and softer crumb than a traditional style, and their “schmears” (cream cheeses/butter spreads) are smack-your-granny good.

• After some shopping and wandering, we had lunch at Petula’s in Southie. With the feel of a café by day and neighborhood restaurant by night, there's a charming and relaxed energy about it.

• Visited Luke’s South Boston house and chilled for a bit. He shares the place with several roommates in this quiet neighborhood filled with shops and small eateries.

• “Pre-game” before dinner at Cafe Vittoria, possibly Boston’s oldest Italian café. Located in the North End, the decor has tin ceilings, marble floors, ornate mirrors, and vintage photos. There’s also a basement cigar room, one of the last surviving licensed smoking lounges in the city.

• A showstopper dinner at Lucca Italian, a higher-end option in the historic North End, glowing with candlelight and granite floors. Luke grabbed a reservation by the retractable front wall that opened up to Hanover Street for an incredible “open dining” experience. A $500k Lamborghini was parked about 10 feet away.

• After dinner, as if the evening wasn’t already cinematic, fireworks suddenly lit the harbor. We walked close enough to see the canisters launching from barges right in front of us.

• Bova’s Bakery came next, a local favorite known for their pastries and desserts. There is often a line down the sidewalk, even late at night. Inside, display cases overflow with traditional Italian-style sweets and the smell of sugar and dough. There’s no sit-down dining, only take-out, but perfect for late cravings.

• We strolled down by the water again, gawking at the large $90 million yacht docked by the pier and owned by Boston Red Sox owner, John Henry. Just as we arrived, out steps John Kerry, who won the Democratic nomination in 2004, running against George W. Bush. He barely lost the election, and had he won Ohio, he would have become president. He later served as Secretary of State under President Obama. Some locals asked us to take a picture as they gathered around him.

• Returned to our hotel room, watched some college football, and finally rested. Total step count for the day: around 25,000.

What an amazing day.

In May 2024, Luke and I took a 12-hour road trip to his new Boston apartment.

The highway felt endless, a marathon of asphalt and traffic.

But tonight, Jess, McKenzie, and I hopped on an evening flight to see him, landing just 78 minutes later. YAY for air travel.

After touching down around 9:45, we met up with Luke and explored the night landscape of the Seaport district. A late meal fueled our stroll along the Boston Harbor, with city lights dancing on the water.

Here we are, official Bostonians for the weekend.

24 years ago today, America changed forever.

I had just pulled into my Norfolk driveway after an early trip to Virginia Beach. When I walked inside, Jessica and I turned on the television to see news of a plane striking the World Trade Center.

McKenzie was our only child then, one year old, and we held her close while watching the horrors unfold in real time.

Only twenty people came out alive from the rubble. Among them was Genelle Guzman, who later became a friend of ours. She visited our church twice and shared her story as the last survivor recovered from the wreckage.

When she described the moment she felt a rescuer’s hand, it was a reminder of the thin line between despair and hope.

This played out on a national scale. In the days after 9/11, flags appeared on porches. Neighbors spoke to each other kindly. Churches overflowed. And almost overnight, the country unified.

It remains one of the most unforgettable chapters of my life.

The first glimpse.

Remember when you met someone important in your life? Maybe it happened in a coffee shop or a church lobby. Maybe they turned into a best friend or even a spouse.

As the years pass, the moment and place becomes sacred.

Today, I had that experience. A face appeared for the very first time. And this person, without a doubt, is already one of the most significant in my life.

How? Where?

McKenzie’s first ultrasound. The earliest visible proof of our little grandgirl.

She wiggled through the whole video, like she already knew the spotlight belonged to her.

Yep, we have a new leading lady on our hands.

Cue the opening credits.

For years, I would get sick around the funerals of loved ones.

Not just a sniffle, but a real, knock-me-down illness. This mystery baffled me until I realized the truth.

I tend to bury my feelings. A lifelong habit which, turns out, has consequences. When “bottled up” emotions stay trapped inside too long, the body keeps score.

This week, a phrase stuck with me: It takes more effort to suppress emotions than to express them.

Looking back, it's so true.

Science shows that suppression makes the prefrontal cortex work overtime. This burns more brain power and increases the risk of heart disease and high blood pressure.

Stuffing feelings never works. They build. They stew. And then they explode, messier than when they went in.

So, a reminder today… better out than in. Give those internal storms a name. Raise them up, and get ‘em out.

Your body will thank you.

Sometimes the unexpected brings magic.

Years ago, the Starbucks coffee lab tested new concoctions. Workers swirled cups of chocolate and caramel, searching for the next big hit. And that’s when an underdog recipe surprisingly won.

The Pumpkin Spice Latte.

When market research showed how customers associated fall with football and pumpkin pie, the company anchored the flavor to the season itself. And a star was born.

Since that launch, PSL is the best-selling limited-time drink at Starbucks, with over 600 million sold. The real taste of sweater weather.

Consider this your official sign for a coffee break.

Lincoln was on to something.

The 16th president became famous for his “team of rivals” leadership approach. He appointed men who had actively opposed him for the Republican nomination, rivals from different regions and ideologies.

Why do this? Instead of seeking harmony, he recognized diverse thoughts sparked solutions and prevented blind spots.

Lincoln’s cabinet meetings focused on surfacing dissent. This gave him broader intelligence than a room full of “yes men.” He encouraged open argument, then quietly reserved the right to decide.

Oddly, I thought of Lincoln last night while Jess and I delivered cakes to our new neighbors. She serves on the hospitality team, and I drove her to the homes.

I’ve witnessed how a simple dessert can break down walls and turn strangers into friends. It’s not waiting to see if someone shares our views or background. Leadership goes first in kindness.

Now I want some cake.

My favorite piece of furniture.

Forget fancy dressers or ornate chairs, the one I cherish sits right in the kitchen.

I’m talking about… our dinner table.

The sturdy frame holds so many memories: birthdays, homework, card games, friends, holidays, stories told. It is a silent keeper of our history, the center of family life.

Two meals a day (breakfast and dinner) over twenty years. The math is simple, but the impact is staggering: tens of thousands of moments shared around this table.

Yes, there are smudges and divots and scratches. Not a single mark feels like a flaw. Instead, each one speaks of joy and beautiful chaos.

More than wood and nails, it’s the story of us.