A day of stark contrasts.

• Our morning began with a five-minute walk from our hotel to Dealey Plaza, the site of JFK’s assassination. Looking up at the sixth-floor window where Lee Harvey Oswald fired his rifle, then down at the street markers where the President fell, we felt the weight of the moment. The world’s eyes gazed on that spot 62 years ago this month.

• Around the block, we visited a Western store. The smell of leather filled the space as we browsed the collection of boots and denim wear, plus all types of Dallas collectibles. Lots of Lone Star merch between these walls.

• Literally across the road stood a great BBQ restaurant. Yummy. All the Texas staples we’d been craving.

• After lunch, back to our room for chill time.

• About 4:45, we headed to AT&T Stadium for Monday Night Football. The pregame festivities resembled a state fair, with music and vendors. There was also a dance team and a full Mariachi band fueling the celebration.

• We settled into Section 129 (lower section around the 15-yard line). Fantastic view and close enough to the field to throw a football to the players.

• The game itself provided pure entertainment, with 80,000 screaming fans involved in a multimedia event with over 3,500 screens. Whenever the energy sagged even slightly, the jumbotron cut to our mariachi friends perched high in the stadium, and their tunes brought the entire arena back to life.

• Ultimately, the Cowboys lost. But the time spent with Luke, at one of our bucket list sports locations, was totally worth it.

The takeaway… the value of an experience isn’t always determined by the final score.

The Big Show is getting closer.

The day started with walking a few blocks to Starship Bagels, then carrying our breakfast back to the hotel lobby to eat.

But our real destination waited a half-hour away: AT&T Stadium, home of the Dallas Cowboys.

It’s like the Vatican for sports fanatics, only louder and with better snacks.

We reserved a guided tour at 11:15. This experience included:

• Behind-the-scenes look at suites, the press box, and media area

• The Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders locker room

• Seeing up-close the ESPN broadcast set-up

• And of course — the field itself, which stretched before us like a green ocean

This was our favorite part. We pulled out a football we had brought and claimed that ground for forty-five minutes.

Calling out plays and running routes, we celebrated every catch like a Super Bowl-winning touchdown, surrounded by 80,000 seats.

After the tour, we headed across the street to Walmart where I bought a Cowboys t-shirt. Gotta show the pride.

Returning downtown, we found an Irish pub for lunch and watched NFL matchups. We napped at the hotel with more football in the background.

After ordering pizza, we tuned into… you guessed it… the Sunday night game.

That’s what we do on Football Sundays.

And tomorrow, Monday night, we’ll cheer for the best one of all: Cowboys vs Cardinals, back at the stadium.

Football Sunday was just the warm-up.

Months of planning came down to this.

Luke traveled 1,562 miles from Boston. I traveled 1,203 miles from Norfolk.

And we met about 8pm at the AC Hotel in downtown Dallas.

After settling into the hotel, we took a ten-minute walk to a Mexican restaurant where we ate and watched Game 7 of the World Series. As the game entered extra innings, we hurried back to the room to catch the final moments.

But we’re here for a more important reason.

We came all this way, not to invest our time and money on an object, but on a shared lifetime memory.

And it starts at 11:15am tomorrow.

I’ll never forget that walk.

As a teen, a couple of Hollywood special effects pros opened a Haunted Woods near where I grew up.

They promised realistic gore and an over-the-top experience. Beware the faint of heart.

Of course, my friends and I had to go.

The scares exceeded our expectations. This wasn’t some creepy stroll past spooky decorations. No, we’d been dropped straight into Friday the 13th.

Blood splattered everywhere. Dismembered body parts scattered across a winding path inside thick woods. Spooks plunged from trees and hisses came from bushes.

Then we reached the house labyrinth in the middle.

Inside, complete darkness. We felt along the walls to find the exit. At one point, barriers boxed me in from every direction — front, side, above.

As I slid my hands down searching for escape, I found an opening by my feet.

The only way forward required crawling through a tight tunnel in the pitch black. And it seemed to stretch on forever.

I think this is where my claustrophobia formed.

After finally making it out of the maze, chainsaws roared to life behind us and masked men chased our group all the way to the parking lot.

To this day, no other haunted attraction has ever topped that one.

I guess a little terror now and then keeps life interesting.

Happy Halloween!

The best stories are misadventures.

Yeah, you made a mistake. So get up and dust yourself off. 

Consider yourself smarter. Wisdom is often won through bruises and skinned knees. Your scars are proof you’re stronger than whatever tried to hurt you.

Wrong turns are a part of life.

This isn’t a full stop; it’s only a comma in your story. The path to anything meaningful is rarely a straight line.

I recently came across this slogan:
Bad decisions make good stories.

Sometimes we need to rewire our brains to see flubs as fireside tales. These make great chapters for your future memoir. The ones people won’t skip.

Smooth seas never made a skilled sailor.

As long as you live to tell about it, you’re doing just fine.

4th-and-1 from your own 34-yard line. Do you go for it?

Now picture a dad who never played a down of competitive football having the right call.

Michael McRoberts brings something different to the stadium: an engineering brain. His strategy guide, The Game Book, helps college football coaches make split-second decisions under pressure.

And they can’t get enough.

This outsider’s perspective has revolutionized an insider’s game, basically solving the sport like a Rubik’s Cube.

Michael’s company, Championship Analytics, now serves over 100 major college-football programs. His color-coded format turns complex scenarios into something a stressed-out coach can actually use.

Pure engineering genius.

Here’s the thing about expertise: skills mastered in one field can become your unfair advantage in another.

Your economics degree, your communication gift, your graphic design eye. These abilities transfer and cross boundaries. They solve problems in places nobody expects.

You just need to start, with or without permission.

Going for it on 4th-and-1 applies to way more than the gridiron.

Every October triggers a happy memory, like a button gets pressed in my head.

Forty-two years ago, I watched the World Series with Paw-Paw, my grandfather. We cheered as the Baltimore Orioles, our favorite team, won the championship.

Paw-Paw sat in his recliner, well-worn as an old catcher’s mitt, while I plopped on the couch beside him. As the box television hummed, we talked about players and grumbled about bad calls.

Baseball became our shared language.

Paw-Paw’s brother (Uncle Sam), lived in Baltimore and would send us all types of O's goodies, such as cards and stickers. I still have them tucked in a shoebox.

This week, the 2025 World Series started. And once again, I'm transported back to my grandparent’s living room on Everett Street.

Some languages you never forget.

I took this path every day for a year.

In middle school, my buddy and I walked home each afternoon and used one particular cut-through: a private neighborhood known as May’s Lake.

Multi-million dollar homes with sprawling yards. Wooded paths plus a little stone bridge. And of course, the quiet lake.

This shortcut adventure dropped us off on a main street, just a few blocks from our front doors.

We logged hundreds of walks, but I haven’t wandered that way in decades.

Today’s normal becomes tomorrow’s nostalgic faster than you think. Magic is happening right now in your everyday life, even if you don’t recognize it yet.

Take a minute and look around. Appreciate the scenery.

Everything changes.

The world has a porridge champion.

The 32nd World Porridge Making Championship recently took place in Scotland, drawing hopefuls from around the globe.

Competitors had just 30 minutes to craft magic from their pots and could only use water, oats, and salt.

The secret to greatness, however, lies in the variables. Stirring direction and room humidity can turn a good dish into a legendary one.

This year, a first-time contender seized the crown by breaking a sacred tradition. He used a spatula and defied centuries of porridge-making technique.

The win proves a powerful point: methods matter.

So, always question the “right way” of doing things. Innovation often starts with a small rebellion.

Why follow the rules when you can flip them?

165,000 square feet of amazement.

Today we (Jake, Sam, Will, McKenzie, Jess, and I) wandered through the sprawling Art Museums of Colonial Williamsburg.

Room after room unfolded like a gallery of riches: gleaming silver, British ceramics, Southern furniture, musical instruments. Every piece whispered a story.

Looking at the priceless objects, our conversation turned to the recent news from Paris.

Thieves stole jewels from the Louvre in a bold daylight operation. Using a cherry-picker and angle grinder, they got access to royal artifacts through a balcony window.

In about seven minutes, the robbers grabbed eight gems linked to France’s prized collection. Then they escaped on motorbikes.

Security is often an illusion. The Louvre, one of the most secure places on earth, was breached.

Sometimes obvious threats arrive, but we can miss them because we’re not really watching. Complacency is a vulnerability.

Guard the important treasures of your life, such as relationships and health. Vigilance in these areas can’t be outsourced.

One unguarded window can cause a world of trouble.

Lovebirds with house keys.

The first place Jess and I ever owned was small but filled with love. Those walls became the setting for the foundational chapters of our life together.

And today, we moved McKenzie and Will into their new Williamsburg house.

After a year in a Richmond apartment, they packed their possessions into a giant U-Haul and camped with us for a few days.

Then this afternoon came with excitement. And a mountain of cardboard boxes.

Jake and Sam arrived for fall break at exactly the right time. They crushed it. Every move needs a couple of young guys with muscles.

Will’s parents joined us as well, bringing pizza and extra help for the big occasion.

Soon, this roof will hold fresh traditions. A growing family will breathe new life into these rooms.

We carried more than boxes today.

Goosebumps are wonderfully strange.

Your body is always communicating, and these bumps offer a signal.

They pop up when tiny muscle fibers in the skin tighten, sparked by your fight-or-flight system.

Think of these chills as a dashboard light or a “spidey sense.” They tell you something is profoundly awesome or that you should probably run.

Body and mind are deeply connected, translating emotions into the tangible. Never underestimate the power of this link.

To feel goosebumps is to feel, and a reminder to engage with life.

Seek the things that raise your skin.

Collect goosebumps like frequent flyer miles.

What a cool device.

Back in the early 2000s, we stood on technology’s edge using TiVo, a magical little box that hummed under our television.

Maybe you remember:

The curvy remote.
The secret skip code.
The classic “bloop!” — a bubbly tone which made button presses satisfying.

This slick machine transformed TV watching by letting us pause live broadcasts and jump past commercials. We could also build our own library of shows and movies. This was uncharted territory.

The word “TiVo” became a verb, such as, “I’m going to TiVo the show.”

With sadness, I read recently the company has sold its last DVR. Cord-cutting and streaming have taken a toll.

Yet there are people who refuse to let go. Some longtime fans still cling to them and aren’t ready to unclutch the remote.

Even revolutionary ideas have a life cycle. Nothing, no matter how groundbreaking, lasts forever.

TiVo disrupted traditional TV, only to be disrupted by streaming. There’s always a new wave coming, so learn to ride the current or get swept away.

The TiVo legacy lives on in my memories, and it’s hard to say farewell to something that served us so well.

Still, sometimes you just have to.

So long… and thanks for all the bloops.

This riddle fools almost everybody.

For years, I’ve shared it with everyone from kids in classrooms to executives in boardrooms.

My estimate is maybe 1% has guessed correctly, even though the answer relies on pure common sense and delivers an “Aha!” the moment it clicks.

Here you go:

A man is writing a letter.
The power goes out.
He dies.
Why?

(answer at the bottom)

The solution is simple, but difficult to see. And this puzzle offers so many life lessons:

• We tend to overcomplicate problems

• Context is everything

• Our first perception is rarely the whole picture

• A single perspective can lock you from vital clues

• Hindsight makes the invisible seem obvious

• Beware the path of least resistance in problem-solving

• The most important part of any story is often what’s left unsaid — learn to read the silence

• Always ask “why” until you hit the root

Are you ready for the great reveal?

So, why does the man die?

He’s in an airplane, skywriting.

Whenever you tackle a challenge, remember… solutions often hide in plain sight.

A fun question, but can you answer it?

If a fly buzzes in the car as you’re traveling 60 mph, is it moving at 60 mph to keep up?

Why or why not?

Hello, physics. When the car zips down the highway, the fly only needs to move relative to the cabin air.

That inside air flows with the vehicle, so the insect just cruises along with the passengers. No superhero effort required.

This reveals a powerful little truth: the “fly-in-the-car” principle.

Environments carry you, so surround yourself with people who operate at the speed you want to go. Like the air in the car, those around you will propel you forward or hold you back.

Effort is relative to your environment. With the right support, you don’t have to exhaust yourself to make progress.

A cheetah on a scooter will lose to a turtle riding a bullet train every time.

Since your success is a huge result of your positioning, being in the right place is a form of intelligence.

And you’ll go farther and faster.

You’ll never look at this the same again.

The Honeycrisp, America’s favorite apple.

For growers, the superstar produce is a nightmare. It’s finicky to harvest, and one farmer called it an “absolute diva.”

Imagine an apple demanding to wear sequins while living in bubble wrap. Yes, a fruit with serious red-carpet energy.

The delicate skins bruise easily with just a side eye. The trees are fussy and throw tantrums. Even storage brings headaches.

That’s why drama this intense comes with a premium price tag.

But consumers don’t seem to mind. The amazing taste wins over fans as farmers get new gray hairs.

What’s the bite-sized lesson? Great results sprout from boring discipline. Big expectations need tried-and-true processes.

Glam always requires a grind.

Now go enjoy that high-maintenance crunch. Ah… fabulous, darling.

Wanna smell like a donut?

Sweet scents are sneaking into the shower. Dunkin’ Donuts created Vanilla Sprinkle deodorants and Boston Kreme shampoos.

Dove partnered with Crumbl cookies on Lemon Glaze scrubs. Bath & Body Works launched Birthday Cake mists and hand sanitizers.

Dessert has hit the mainstream. What’s going on?

It’s like your armpits are hosting a bake sale. Or you won a fight with a cupcake.

Reactions split the room. Brands know these aromas can create strong opinions, but the debate is part of the fun.

Hey, wear your favorite flavor if it makes you happy. Uniformity is boring. Be a frosted donut in a world of blah soaps.

Just test before you go all in.

And be prepared if someone asks to lick you.

A Friday night to remember.

Will, McKenzie, Jess, and I went to Richmond tonight. First stop: Taco Bamba, a restaurant featuring amazing tacos and Mexican street food.

Their spicy offerings hit like a piñata full of fireworks. And the founder has cooked at the White House for Presidents Obama and Bush.

Will ordered a sandwich roughly the size of a sofa, the largest entrée I’ve ever seen. And he downed every crumb.

Then we headed to The National, a 1,500-seat concert hall opened in 1923. Famous artists like Willie Nelson, the Foo Fighters, and Elvis Costello have played there. The walls tell stories.

We came to watch Johnnyswim, fronted by husband and wife duo Abner and Amanda Ramirez. Their song “Home” turned into the theme for TV's Fixer Upper, which launched the band’s reach.

Fun tidbit: Amanda is Donna Summer’s daughter. By the way… their new album, When the War Is Over, is worth a listen.

How to end an epic evening? Krispy Kreme, of course. We grabbed an assorted dozen before making the hour trip home.

A sweet finale.

Are we shrinking?

According to experts, after age 40, our height drops about 1 cm per decade. Why? Spinal discs dry out and compress, like sponges left in the sun.

With posture changes and weaker muscles, it’s a slow ride to the basement.

But there are ways to pump the brakes:

• Stretch often

• Lift weights

• Get calcium with vitamin D

• Skip tobacco

• Go easy on alcohol

Aging and gravity are nonnegotiable. Physical change is inevitable.

But we still have some control. While none of us can dodge life’s forces, we can always choose our “posture” — how we respond. The fight is more than bones and muscles.

Train your mind to climb not crouch. Stand tall, no matter the challenges.

Shrinking speeds up only when effort slows down, so keep your spine strong and your spirit stronger.

Aim for a life lived upward, not downward.

Bring back the flip phone.

A growing crowd of Gen Z and younger millennials has decided enough is enough. They’re trading smartphones for flip phones and point-and-shoot cameras. Even buying CDs again.

All in the name of peace and quiet.

The constant buzzing fades. The brain stops sprinting. And many say this digital detoxing helps improve focus.

This movement reflects a deeper tug-of-war: love for tech vs. a desire to escape it. Unplugging can feel terrifying at first, then freeing. Like swapping a jet for a bicycle. You still move forward, but slowly enough to enjoy the view.

What they’re really chasing is something money can’t buy.

Mental space.

It’s about finding time to breathe without checking for Wi-Fi. Experiencing life minus a screen is returning to an era before everything had a password.

Sometimes the newest version of happiness resembles the old one.

Now if you’ll excuse me, my CD is skipping.