I don’t remember a lot from Mrs. Olsen’s first grade class. One event that stands out is the day we planted a bunch of seeds in a garden. First grade Bob enjoyed digging in the dirt, making small seed holes, dropping each seed into its place, and writing the plant names on popsicle sticks that we plunged into the dirt next to the seeds.
Then came the bad news.
We wouldn’t be able to see the plants we’d planted until weeks later, and they wouldn’t reach maturity (whatever that meant) for at least a year.
To a first grader, weeks (and especially a year) meant forever. First grade Bob was extremely disappointed. I never saw the plants that came from the seeds we planted that day. It would be decades before adult Bob would go to the trouble of planting seeds or transplanting potted plants into a garden.
Recently, I watched an Essential Craftsman video where he planted 25 new trees. He worked the soil, designed a hand-made watering system, dug 25 holes with exactly the right spacing, brought in a truckload of special soil, mixed it with his existing soil, and then carefully placed each tree in the ground.
At various points in this multi-week project, he worked alongside his grandsons, his wife, and one of his good friends. He said that working with them over the years, especially his wife, had made him a better person.
The finished line of trees looked amazing and will look even better over the next 10 – 20 years.
He reflected that it’s easy to take for granted the shade we enjoy from trees planted decades before. The journey from seed to shade provider is a long one, but it always begins with the person (or Nature) planting that seed.
So, what kind of “shade” are we planting today? Is it the kind that shelters others through encouragement, love, wisdom, opportunity, or sacrifice?
The things we do now may not seem significant in the moment. They may never fully bloom while we’re around to enjoy them. A kind word to a child. A story passed down. A habit of generosity. A newly taught skill. A quiet act of integrity. These are the seeds we plant for the future.
Sometimes, like first grade Bob, it’s easy to get frustrated when we don’t see results right away. We live in a world that loves fast feedback and instant gratification. But shade trees don’t grow overnight. Neither do strong families, good character, or traditions worth passing on.
What if our job, the most important job of all, is to plant and build for a future we’ll never see? To create a little more shelter for the people coming after us?
Few will notice what we’re planting. But that’s okay. We do it anyway. And someone else will get to rest in that shade.
That’s the kind of impact I hope to make. Something that lasts beyond my lifetime, even if no one remembers exactly which trees I planted.
So I’ll keep planting. I’ll keep building. I’ll keep encouraging…investing in the people I know will grow far beyond me.
Because someday, someone will enjoy the shade I may never see.
Adult Bob loves that.
“If your plan is for one year, plant rice. If your plan is for ten years, plant trees. If your plan is for one hundred years, educate children.” – Confucius
The other night, over a casual taco dinner, one of my grandkids hit me with a question I wasn’t expecting.
“Grandpa, how old will you be in the year 2100?”
Without missing a beat, I shot back, “Nearly 140. Way too old to still be around!”
I may have been off by a few years, but we all agreed: the odds are stacked against me making it to 2100.
Then we started doing the math together, and that’s where things got interesting. They’ll be in their 90s by then. Their children and grandchildren—my great-grandchildren and great-great-grandchildren—will be alive and thriving in that future world. A reminder that we’re part of something much bigger. Connected to the past, but carried forward by those who will come long after we’ve gone.
“Okay, but how old will you be in 2050?”
That one felt closer, more real. “Well,” I said, “not quite 90, but almost. And you’ll be under 50.”
“What will we be doing in 2050, Grandpa?”
That’s a question only they can answer. I won’t pretend to know. I hope I’m there for at least part of it. I hope I get to laugh with them, to listen, to remind them where they came from, and to cheer them on wherever they’re headed.
Our conversation turned into something more than tacos and timelines. We started talking about how every generation builds on what came before. We carry what we’ve learned from our parents and grandparents, along with our own experiences, and hand all of that to our children and grandchildren. And they, in turn, will do the same.
Their children, my great-grandchildren, aren’t here yet, but I already have high hopes for them. I look forward to holding them, hearing their stories, and watching them discover the world just as their parents are starting to do today.
I hope they’ll learn the big things:
-How a starry sky can quiet our soul.
-How to throw and catch with confidence (it’s baseball season, so this one is top of mind right now).
-How warm and magical a campfire can be…and that S’mores taste better when your hands are sticky.
-How good it feels to help without being asked.
-How to sit quietly with someone we love and say nothing at all.
-How to cheer for someone else, even when the spotlight isn’t ours.
-The peace that comes from a walk in the woods or along a sandy shore.
But I also know they’ll learn things I’ll never understand. Things I can’t even imagine. And that’s exactly as it should be.
My deepest hope is that they’ll carry forward the timeless lessons. That love matters more than being right. That kindness isn’t weakness. That telling the truth is not only brave, but also the only way.
And that family stories are worth retelling…especially the funny ones.
So, here’s to future taco dinners, to great-grandkids I haven’t met, and to the storytellers of tomorrow.
May they keep the best of us within them always.
A Poem for My Grandkids
We sat with tacos, our chips in hand, When you asked a question I hadn’t planned. “Grandpa, will you still be here in 2100?” “Not likely,” I laughed, “I’d be too old by then.”
And then we wondered who’ll be around, Your kids and theirs, with dreams unbound. Building a world we won’t see, Carrying forward the best from you and from me.
We talked of shooting stars and catching balls, Of S’mores by the fire and the night’s gentle call. Of helping for nothing, of walking alone, And learning to love with a heart fully grown.
You’ll learn things I’ll never know, With gadgets and wonders I can’t imagine. Even so, I hope what we’ve lived still finds its place, In stories you tell with a smile on your face.
Here’s to the moments that grow into more, To questions and memories, and tales we explore. May love be your guide in all that you do, And may our stories stay with you, and echo on through time.
p/c – That’s Charlie (in the cowboy hat) and Marcus from a few years ago, perfecting their marshmallow roasting techniques.
Tim Ferris has a weekly newsletter – 5 Bullet Friday. In last Friday’s update, he highlighted a quote from The Way to Love, by Anthony de Mello. This post isn’t related to that quote (although it could be). It’s based on the rabbit hole I dove into, reading other parts of the book. Right out of the gate, de Mello offers a short parable that’s simple at first glance but goes deeper the longer you sit with it.
“A group of tourists sits on a bus that is passing through gorgeously beautiful country, lakes and mountains and green fields and rivers. But the shades of the bus are pulled down. They don’t have the slightest idea of what lies beyond the windows of the bus. All the time of their journey is spent in squabbling over who will have the seat of honor in the bus, who will be applauded, who will be well considered. And so they remain until the journey’s end.”
It’s not a long parable, but it says a lot.
We are each on this ride. This one journey through life. And all around us is beauty: the people we love, small joys, the smell of fresh rain, a child’s laughter, songbirds chirping right outside our window, the warmth of a good cup of coffee in the morning.
But our shades are down. We don’t see any beauty, because we’re too busy with things that don’t matter.
We’re measuring. Comparing. Ranking. Arguing about position, prestige, attention. Scrolling, reacting. Meanwhile, the scenery goes by. Gorgeous, wild, and fleeting. We barely glance out the window.
What struck me about de Mello’s story wasn’t the travelers’ arguments. It’s the view that was always there. The view never stopped being beautiful. The issue wasn’t the lack of beauty. The issue was where they were looking.
This parable is a quiet reminder to lift the shade. To let in the light. To remember that it’s not about getting the “best seat on the bus.” It’s about not missing the view.
So today, maybe take a breath. Look around. Listen a little longer. Smile at someone. Appreciate a small thing that usually passes by unnoticed.
Another of de Mello’s insights that’s in line with his parable:
“The most difficult thing in the world is to listen, to see. We don’t want to look, because if we do, we may change. We don’t want to look, because we may discover that the world is not what we thought it was.”
Sometimes the shades stay down not because we’re distracted, but because we’re afraid. If we truly see what matters, we might have to stop chasing things that don’t. We might have to let go of the version of ourselves that depends on being applauded or admired or seen in a certain way.
But what if that’s the invitation? Not to force ourselves to change, but to wake up to what’s real in our lives. To notice the world again. To feel the wonder again.
The awareness de Mello points to is freeing, like the child’s creativity in my previous post.
It’s the kind of awareness that reminds us we’re not stuck in the noise unless we choose to be. We can pull up the shade. We can look.
Because the ride is short. The view is worth seeing.
And in that beauty, we can see we are never really far from joy.
The blinking cursor on a blank document. The empty stretch of land where you’ll soon be building a shop. The new web application your company wants to develop that will revolutionize your industry. These are just a few examples of standing on the edge of something new, something important, yet feeling completely unsure of where to begin.
You might have a vision of the final result—the finished document, the completed shop, the fully functioning app. But that doesn’t mean you know how to get there.
It’s easy to get lost in the variables and the endless possibilities. What if I make the wrong decision? Are there more resources out there? What do other people think? Should I read more articles? Watch more videos? Seek more advice? What if I mess it all up?
In every case, the hardest part is starting.
It’s taking that first step. Writing the first sentence. Sketching out the first screen of an app. Nailing the first stakes into the ground—the ones you’ll attach a string to, so you can visualize where your new shop will go.
It’s a commitment to action over hesitation. A moment of bravery that marks the beginning of making something real.
An amazing thing happens when you start. Your mind shifts from a place of endless “what-ifs” to a place of positive motion. You begin to focus on the next steps and real solutions. All the challenges you imagined before starting—that, in many cases, won’t even come to pass—are forgotten. The path ahead becomes clearer, and each small step forward makes your next decision easier.
Does this mean everything goes perfectly after you start? Of course not. You’ll make mistakes, adjust, learn, and pivot along the way.
But here’s where starting becomes crucial: it provides a tangible foundation. It gives you something to measure against, something to refine, something to edit. You might completely change your initial idea, but you wouldn’t have discovered the need to change if you hadn’t started.
Starting is hard, but it’s also the most important part.
Take the first step, even if it feels uncomfortable. You’ll learn more from those first few steps than you will from standing still…wondering what might happen.
Once you start, momentum kicks in. And from there, the possibilities are endless.
Pick any project—it doesn’t matter if it’s something you’ve assigned to yourself or something your boss has given you. It could be a huge, long-term project, or something that should take less than a week.
Chances are, that project will turn out to be harder than expected. It will require effort that nobody saw during the planning process (whether planning consisted of a 5-minute conversation, or a multi-month series of meetings and discussions).
Here’s something else about projects: even when we’re given full ownership, most of us will try to find ways to make sure we’re not fully responsible for the outcome.
But no matter what, the project remains. We own it. We also own the goal of getting it done right.
“The man who moves a mountain begins by carrying away small stones.” – Chinese Proverb
Progress is made through consistent effort, one step at a time. Then another. Then another. It’s the steps toward the goal that matter, almost as much as the goal itself.
What if some of the steps we take are the wrong ones? What if we have to go back and redo some of our work? What if somebody sees us make mistakes along the way?
Each of these are (almost) guaranteed to happen.
Embrace it. Learn from it. Carry on.
Keep stepping forward. Learn along the way and give yourself permission to take a step (or two) back from time to time.
“You will know that your children will be many, and your descendants like the grass of the earth.” – Job 5:25
This image of my granddaughter running through the tall grass lingers in my mind, a snapshot of pure joy and freedom. The grass climbs high as her shoulders, swaying in the gentle breeze as she runs, her laughter echoing across the open field.
The sun, high in the sky, casts a warm glow across the landscape, reflecting off the stalks and highlighting the strands of her long blonde hair. It’s a moment of unbridled innocence, an expression of life at its most carefree—a reminder of the potential and possibilities that lie ahead in her life.
Watching her, I’m struck by how this simple act of running, so natural and effortless, captures the essence of childhood. Children have an innate ability to live fully in the present, to see the world as a place of wonder and adventure. For them, the future is not something to be feared, but something to eagerly anticipate. Every new experience is a chance to explore, to learn, to grow. In her dash through the tall grass, we get a glimpse of how life is meant to be lived—full of energy, curiosity, and a fearless embrace of the unknown.
As the years (decades) go by, it’s easy to lose our innocence, our thirst for adventure. We may see our future with a sense of foreboding, even doom…rather than an opportunity to expand our journey. We allow the sense of adventure that once propelled us forward to be dulled by the responsibilities and challenges that life inevitably brings. Our carefree days of childhood disappear into the past.
The passage of time doesn’t have to diminish our sense of adventure. We can choose to embrace life with the same enthusiasm and curiosity that we had as children. We can still find joy in the simple pleasures, still run toward the unknown with hope in our hearts.
Life’s journey is not about avoiding the tall grass, but about diving into it, feeling the sun warm our backs and the gentle breeze cooling our faces. It’s about seeing each day as an opportunity to expand our horizons, to live fully and freely, just as my grandkids do.
The tall grass may rise like a challenge, but it is also where the most profound discoveries await. And as I step into that field, I carry with me the certainty that the journey ahead, like the path I’ve already walked, holds boundless potential.
In a field of tall grass she runs, her golden hair warmed by the sun, each step a whisper of freedom, the horizon an open invitation.
I watch her and remember— the world for me was once this wide, full of endless possibilities, before fear narrowed that view.
But the grass still sways, and I can still run, following her laughter, knowing the path ahead will bring great discoveries,
a promise of new beginnings.
p/c – My daughter, Julianne, texted this photo earlier this week of Lizzy running through the tall grass of their pasture. The moment I saw the photo, I knew the topic of my next blog post.
I follow a small handful of Youtubers. Most of the channels I watch focus on small business owners in various industries, or folks who are building an independent lifestyle…mostly off-grid.
I love to watch them create something valuable and useful out of nothing but an idea and their belief that they can do it. Sometimes they succeed on their first try, other times they need to adjust and try again. I admire their willingness to push themselves way outside their comfort zone in pursuit of the way they want to live.
This past weekend, I watched as the twenty-year-old daughter of someone I follow took the plunge to start her own coffee house. She has 1-2 years of experience being a barista and talked about how much she loved that job, her teammates, and her customers.
She told a nice story about how her mom met her dad 20-plus years ago. He and his band came to perform at the coffee house where her mom worked as a barista. She said that she would be investing her life savings in this new venture.
She started by leasing a 1,900 square-foot space that had all the bones to become a great coffee house location. She and her mom set about visualizing and planning the space, identifying the equipment she’d need, and how they’d work together to remodel the space. They talked about where the small kitchen would go, how the prep tables would be organized, where the coffee counter and espresso machines would go, how the space would be decorated for comfort and a relaxing vibe.
As I watched them walk around visualizing, the experienced business manager in me started thinking about all the paperwork she’d need to file. The health code permits, the special equipment she’d need, the certifications that may be required to serve food, the creation of a business and DBA, opening bank accounts, capitalizing, and accounting for the business…sales and income tax filings.
I wondered how many customers she’d need to serve each day to generate an adequate cash flow and profit. Had she identified her suppliers? Did she know the supply costs yet? How many employees would she need to hire to cover all the shifts? Was she ready to establish a payroll process for her new employees, establish HR systems, purchase the various insurance coverages she’d need, including worker’s compensation coverage.
Cut to the next scene in their video, and they’re filing the DBA paperwork, and starting to file the health code paperwork and forms. It turns out that there is a healthy server certification that she’ll need to obtain (which includes a ton of study materials and a written test).
She was undeterred. She plowed straight into the process, all the while renovating and remodeling the space along with the help of friends and family. It was truly a labor of love for her. After 3-4 weeks of work, the place was starting to take shape.
What happens next? I’ll be tuning in next week to find out.
There’s a prevailing stereotype that youth and inexperience are synonymous with recklessness and abandon.
How can this 20-year-old possibly know enough to successfully launch her new coffee business?
Look more closely and it may be that her lack of experience and knowledge are the catalyst for her leap into entrepreneurship. She knows that she doesn’t want to work for someone else, and she loved her experience being a barista. Why not create her own coffee house?
One of the paradoxes of entrepreneurship is that knowledge, while valuable, can sometimes become a barrier to action. Older generations, armed with years of experience and a deep understanding of the intricacies involved in starting and running a business, may find themselves paralyzed by the fear of failure, or an unwillingness to put in all the work they know lies ahead. Knowing what they know, they can easily talk themselves out of almost anything.
On the other hand, young entrepreneurs often possess an infectious optimism and a sense of invincibility that propels them forward. Unencumbered by the weight of past failures or the mounting responsibilities of adulthood, they approach new ventures with a boldness that can be both exhilarating and inspiring. Their willingness to take risks stems not from ignorance, but from a belief that they can overcome any obstacle that stands in their way.
They are adaptable, more willing to pivot and change course when facing unexpected challenges. They haven’t yet become set in their ways or entrenched in established routines, allowing them to embrace change with a sense of excitement rather than fear. They view setbacks not as roadblocks, but as opportunities for growth and learning.
Young entrepreneurs understand the value of learning by doing. They’re not afraid to dive into the nitty-gritty of running a business, knowing that experience is the best teacher.
Will any of it be easy? No.
Will she have moments of self-doubt, and fear of failing? Yes.
Will she overcome the wall of worry and doubt, plus all the challenges associated with owning and running a successful business? Maybe, but I know she has what it takes to make it successful.
Would I open a coffee house at this point in my life? Nope.
But I love that she’s pursuing her dream. I love that her parents are there to help. I can already see that they’re being supportive, but also letting her drive the process, take the risks, and make the decisions.
If she were to ask for my advice, I’d tell her to consider the following (in no particular order):
Create or join a network of trusted allies and service providers. Join the local Chamber of Commerce, a BNI chapter, or a group that has other business owners as members. You’ll get to meet other entrepreneurs, compare notes with them, and many of them will provide services and expertise that you can use.
Focus on the customer’s experience in everything you do. Advocate for your customers and they will advocate for you.
Start your marketing and awareness campaign long before the day you open your business. While you’re remodeling the interior or your space, take the time to remodel and brand the exterior. Put up “coming soon” signs. Try to generate as much anticipation in your surrounding neighborhood as possible…again, long before opening day.
If possible, ensure that your business has at least 3 months (or more) of operating capital in the bank at any time. The more, the better. You never know when something unexpected might happen…a big expense or capital investment opportunity, or maybe a cyclical downturn in your business.
Remember that leaders always eat last. This means you’ll probably have some lean times, financially. Keeping your business healthy and paying your employees must come first. It’s quite possible that you won’t be pulling anything that looks like a paycheck from your business for 6-12 months. Prepare for this and realize it’s completely normal.
As you hire employees, whether they’re part-time or full-time, make sure they know your values, why your coffee house is special, why they are fortunate to be part of your team and that you feel blessed and fortunate to have them on your team.
Advocate for your employees, but don’t be afraid to quickly let go of employees who aren’t embracing your company culture. You need to employ believers in your mission…anything less is unacceptable. I don’t remember who said it but hire slowly and fire fast. Both are extremely difficult to do in practice but will pay off with amazing results if you’re able to do it.
p/c – Nathan Lemon – Unsplash
Want to see what happens next with Belle’s coffee house?
“We must strive to exit our tomb of pessimism.” I heard this phrase echo through the Cathedral during the Easter Vigil homily, a little over a week ago.
As Catholics, we celebrate the resurrection of Jesus Christ every Easter…His triumphant exit from the tomb, three days after his crucifixion.
In a much smaller way, we have a daily invitation to cast off our heavy shroud of negativity. To exit our tomb of pessimism.
To break the shackles of hopelessness and redirect our thoughts toward a brighter horizon.
If everything great begins with a thought or an idea, imagine channeling this power toward an optimistic future, filled with amazing possibilities.
It’s easy to stay in this tomb of our own making, looking through the bars at all the people out there who are clearly happier, more successful, and have all the things we yearn for.
The truth is none of them matter. They have no impact on us…except to show us some possibilities, some ideas, and some pathways that worked for them.
We have the power to rewrite our own narrative, to pivot our lives toward a more hopeful outlook. The choice is ours alone.
Escaping the tomb of pessimism demands courage and resolve. It requires us to confront our deepest fears and insecurities, to challenge the status quo of negativity that has held us captive and kept us comforted for so long.
Yet, it is only by confronting these challenges that we can find the promise of transformation. Only through the struggle that we can discover a new sense of purpose.
Will you remain ensnared in the confines of pessimism, or will you seize the opportunity to step into the light, and walk away from your tomb of pessimism?
What happens when someone leads with their confusion?
It’s easy to be confused.
To be unclear about new information.
To ask for more explanations.
To need more practice.
But what happens when someone leads with their confusion, defending themselves behind a shield of doubt and uncertainty?
What if they wield their confusion like a weapon, merely to strengthen their grip on the status quo?
Is their objective to understand an idea or to avoid any responsibility for it?
Exploration (of anything) is a journey into the unknown and unexpected. It can be overwhelming, even confusing. It should be. Finding our way through the confusion is how we grow.
We make the choices:
Will we decide to push through our confusion?
Will we put in the effort to find new clarity?
Will we choose to grow?
Or, do we prefer to hide in our comfortable bubble of confusion?
I originally wrote this poem eight or nine years ago. It was an exercise in using contrasting words, contrasting rhythms, active and passive voices, sensory symbolism, and a few other style toys that I thought would be fun to try (for a hobbyist writing nerd).
As often happens when I write, the theme I had in mind when I started was quickly overtaken by other ideas. The words and symbolism began pointing the way. A new theme slowly emerged.
Then, just as I was gaining momentum, some shiny objects interrupted, and I set this poem aside. A whole bunch of amazing life events started happening and years (eight or nine to be exact) came and went.
This poem sat on the hard drive of what would become my “old” computer. When I moved over to the new computer, somehow all the data didn’t get transferred properly to the new computer (or to any of the cloud storage locations I use today).
I forgot about the poem until a couple of weeks ago when I was looking for a fictional story I’d written. After some searching, I realized the only place it could be was on that old computer that we hadn’t turned on in years (and that we kept for some reason). Imagine my surprise when I was able to boot it up and look around on the hard drive for some of my old (nearly lost) work.
I found that fictional story I was looking for (maybe I’ll publish it in some form in the future), along with a bunch of other work I had forgotten…including this poem. Again, shiny objects intervened, and I didn’t get around to re-reading this poem until today. The toys I’d been playing with so many years ago were just lying about where this big kid had left them.
I picked up my writing toys and continued playing with the words, the styles, and the symbols. The theme that was there so many years ago was showing itself but in a new way that I hadn’t quite seen in the past. Again, the words and symbols pointed the way (just like Mr. Cox told us in eleventh grade English class).
I hope you enjoy it. Let me know what you think in the comments.
The Dance of Light and Dark
Lengthening shadows descend across the forest floor.
The perpetual dance as day gives way to night.
Glorious palettes of color and light,
Surrendering to shadows in the growing darkness.
The air grows cold with the smell of decay.
Death wins a battle in its forever war on life.
Your heartbeat echoes behind your ears.
A quiet rhythm of life.
You hear the mournful wail of a distant companion, howling for a moon not yet risen.
Stars shine like pinholes through a curtain.
The moon rises in the distance, casting new light in the dark.
While creatures of the night toil in the shadows,
Hunting and evading, hiding and pouncing, dying and surviving.
They don’t know what their future holds.
Pain or comfort.
Life or death.
Trees moan quietly as they sway against the wind’s unending assault.
Each is alone in the crowd to persevere as they must.
These trees know without knowing that morning will come.
A distant dream in the long cold night that’s just beginning.
Morning brings new light.
An eternity of hope.
Wistful breezes carry the freshness of this glorious day.
The sun lends its brilliant glow to all that it touches.
Grandpa Bob Encouraging Leadership 
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