April 30, 2024

Dearest Solomon,

I was having a quick walk when Uncle Dave sent me a text to tell me that Auntie Jean had passed away. I called Grandma Patsy and she could barely speak. It didn’t matter that we knew this was inevitable.

At 84, and after a long battle with illness, she’s finally at peace. I’m grateful that I got to see her last month and was hoping we would have one more chance in July when we were all coming out. But things rarely work out the way you plan — especially in these circumstances.

Try to relish what you have when you have it.

Auntie Jean was Grandma Patsy’s only sister — older by just two years. They were so different and so similar, it’s uncanny.

Auntie Jean. Jane. Jean. Jena. She had so many names, to so many people. But she was likely known by thousands more. She was an institution, like Grandma Patsy, at Carvel for 30 years. The two of them haunted that store taking one shift or the other. Back and forth, over and over, day in and day out.

Aside from being sisters, they were co-workers — working side by side and supporting each other in one way or another. There’s no shortage of times from my childhood that I can’t but thank Auntie Jean for. She’d cover the store, making a little time for us here and there.

I can barely remember the first time I met her (I was 3), but if you asked her she could tell you instantly. It was the first time I visited Guyana. She loved to tell the story of how I loved to play with the baby chickens after seeing them for the first time. She would do her little laugh and smile ear to ear when she told that story.

Auntie Jean was always thin and svelte. I never saw her gain weight one way or the other. She reminded me much of Ma, but looking at pics of my grandpa I can see the resemblance there, too. Ironically, at the hospital, they thought your Grandma Patsy was her daughter!

For all their differences, though, they were also very much alike. They both had big hearts. They both cared for their children and grandchildren. They both worked tirelessly. They both touched more people’s lives than they’ll ever realize or be recognized for.

The last time I saw your Aunt was early in April. I was lucky enough to sneak away for the weekend after a conference. She was staying right near the house at Nyack Hospital. That night, she was moved to a new place in New Jersey.

We got to see her in both spots. Grandma brought her a bunch of different foods. She ate some, but her throat was hurting her. She wasn’t comfortable and wanted to leave — I can certainly understand. She was frail and fatigued. At least once she said she was ready to go see Alfred (her dad).

Over the last several decades, there was no shortage of disagreements, arguments, and even the occasional full-on blackout of all contact between Auntie Jean and the rest of the family. But that day, I saw Grandma feed, massage, and care for her like nothing had happened.

In the end, after 80 years of sisterhood, that was all that mattered. There wasn’t any more madness, friction, or forgiveness required. That’s the power of family or maybe just the part that makes your Grandma and much of our family so great.

As I left her room that day, I knew in my heart that it was probably the last time I would see Auntie Jean. I said goodbye. I said I love you. I said we’ll come back to see you — she asked to see you.

I’m glad you’re not in pain anymore, Auntie Jean. I’m glad you’re back with Ma and Alfred. I’m glad you can see us now. Rest now.

Auntie Jean was originally published in Letters to Solomon on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

January 30, 2024

Dearest Solomon,

Today is my last birthday in my forties. As per usual, I wanted to quickly try and find some meaning from the year that has passed before diving into the next.

Last year was a difficult year. I don’t know if any years are just good, but this one was filled with struggles. Finding one word to summarize it proved equally challenging, but I’ve arrived at Responsive.

But, before diving into responsiveness, it’s worth looking at the themes I didn’t choose as they are all closely related but important:

• Reactive: though much of the year was spent reacting to a wide array of difficult situations, being reactive alone implies less thought or strategy
• Agile: though much of the year was moving quickly, the ease usually associated with agility was not how it felt in person
• Reductive: though much of the year was about simplifying back to basics I would be remiss to say that simple describes the solutions or emotions

Responsive means reacting quickly and positively. As one perpetually trying to find the silver lining in something, to find a path that may not be obvious, this word just felt most relevant. It’s just how I’m wired I guess.

“The difference between responding and reacting is choice. When you are reacting, they are in control. When you respond, you are”.

- Henry Cloud

It’s this distinction that I think made the year what it was. Even though I felt I was fighting fires on all fronts, the choice to not let them rule me is what helped me get through things. Perhaps it’s the decades of life as an entrepreneur, living on the edge of happiness and madness that made this the only choice, but I am glad I had the skillset.

I could list out all the bazaar situations we had to endure over 2023, but the specifics matter much less than the broader point: how you respond is everything.

I wish I could tell you I had a perfect record with this, but you’d know I was lying. I wish I could tell you there’s always a right way to respond, but that would be untrue. I can tell you there are countless more wrong ways than there are right ones, and experience is the only blade that can sharpen your rate of success.

That said, perhaps the one moment, though, that I will share. Ironically, it’s an example of responsiveness not in me, but in you.

Last night, we went to your second basketball game. You guys beat the other team so badly, they stopped tracking the score — but that’s beside the point. You scored your first basket, and got your first 2 assists — it was awesome. But what stood out to me was how much you responded to the feedback from just the week before.

After your last game, we gave you a lot of notes on things we could see and asked you to tell us what you noticed too (stay on your guy, don’t crowd the net, and keep focused). A week later, you did all those things and changed how you were part of the game and the kind of teammate you are.

That, son, is what being responsive is all about.

Love always,
Dad

p.s. Your Uncle Ken reminded me of this quote, seems quite fitting

“Let me tell you something you already know. The world ain’t all sunshine and rainbows. It’s a very mean and nasty place and I don’t care how tough you are it will beat you to your knees and keep you there permanently if you let it. You, me, or nobody is gonna hit as hard as life. But it ain’t about how hard ya hit. It’s about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward. How much you can take and keep moving forward. That’s how winning is done!”

― Sylvester Stallone, Rocky Balboa

49: Responsive was originally published in Letters to Solomon on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

November 19, 2023

Dearest Solomon,

“Greg, give me a call it’s important” the text from your Uncle Pat read — it was 9:59 am and I had just woken up. Nervous, I called back. My stomach crawled into my throat — I knew this kind of message was never good.

As Pat picked up, he told me your Uncle Dave was on the line too. I would have sworn they were about to tell me that our other brother had passed away. But they didn’t.

Today, your cousin Pat, Little Pat, as we always knew him, passed away. He is Pat’s oldest son. I wasn’t expecting or prepared to hear that. I couldn’t believe it — I still can’t believe it, to be honest. I’ve found myself in tears on and off throughout the day. The emotions are complicated.

But first, let me tell you about Pat. It was always one of the more amusing things in my life that at the ripe age of 6, I became an uncle to Sabrina, Pat and Debbie’s daughter. In 1982, Pat was born, making me an uncle two times over. I was just 7.

When you’re 7, a newborn is like a lifetime younger than you. But now, at 48 going on 49, my nephew has left us and those 7 years seem folded back on time. He’s my peer, I’m an older brother’s age apart, not a sage with a lifetime of experience between us.

All day, I go back to the oldest memories I have of Pat, running around the house, jumping on the bed, and laughing. His sweet little face is all I can remember — except when I inadvertently transpose yours in place of his.

I feel so many things today, too many things, it’s overwhelming. I keep trying to sort them out and they’re all overlapped and intertwined. Perhaps the hardest part is the huge mirror I find myself standing in front of and the harsh light it casts.

As a father, I feel anguish for my brother. I’ve only heard him like this once before. — the day he ran to me to tell me Pops had passed. But today was lower, more guttural. Perhaps my ears are different, now being a father myself and confronted by my greatest fear — to lose my child. But the pain is real and bewildering.

As an uncle, I feel I failed my nephew. Too much time had passed, I hadn’t seen Pat in probably a decade or more. I don't know if there was something I could have done to help, some love I could have shown, or some advice I could have given. Everyone has their own path, but also get the gift of those on the journey with us. Try to be a gift.

As a peer, looking at Pat as myself, I see how many people he connected with and impacted in his own life. I also see his struggles and suffering. As the memories and sentiments show up on his timeline, I am getting a new picture of my nephew. I’ve often wondered what it would look like when I passed, and here before my eyes is what that may be.

Not long ago, I mused in my morbid mind that I hoped my friends could be there for my funeral. Naturally, it was with hopes that our time together meant something, but also I hoped that my family would get to see me through their eyes —not as all the things I wasn’t, but all the things I was.

I’m sad, even ashamed, I’m not a friend to so many in my own family — to Pat and many, many more.

When we got home, you were busy with your grandparents. We didn’t say anything, I wasn’t sure how or what to say about it. Instead, I retreated downstairs to lay in the dark. A couple of hours later, I came back up to see what was going on. You were outside playing basketball in maybe the last warm day for the year. Your goal was to make 700 points.

Your mom called you over to give me a hug. I broke out in tears. I think it was the first time you have seen me cry, but I’m not sure. I could tell you didn’t know what was going on — we still haven’t told you.

I had to go back inside.

They say that having to bury your child is the most devastating kind of pain. Being even this close is unbearable.

I pray none of us ever have to live through this again. I pray you never have to experience this. I pray for Big Pat, Little Pat, his kids, and everyone in our family right now.

Rest in peace, Little Pat. Rest in power.

Love Always,
Dad

Little Pat was originally published in Letters to Solomon on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Recently, I’ve been reflecting on my current station in life. It’s evident that I am the culmination of my past actions and choices. However, this realization doesn’t preclude feelings of surprise or even wonder at what I’ve become.

It has become clear to me that systems inherently strive for equilibrium. In a very pragmatic sense, everything we opt to become is counterbalanced by all that we decide not to pursue — the equation must reconcile. Entrepreneurship is a prime illustration of this principle.

For those who have not had the privilege of entrepreneurship, allow me to share my perspective — every founder is acutely aware of two realities: the tasks that need to be accomplished and their personal sentiments towards these tasks.

As founders, our existence is shaped by execution — the essential actions we recognize as mandatory. We are beset by a seemingly infinite array of obligations and responsibilities that fill our days, extending to our teams, investors, customers, and families. These commitments infiltrate every waking and subconscious moment, acting as relentless reminders in our psyche.

Despite the seeming impossibility of additional considerations, our duties are neither flawless nor contiguous. The interstices between our thoughts and duties define the cohesion of all components. It is within these interstices that we contemplate the decisions we have made or foregone.
If we were to name this interstitial space, it would be ‘stress’ — a founder’s constant, albeit vexing, companion. Stress pervades the gaps within our every action, shaping our experiences more than we’d like to admit.

Skeptical? Does your stress level increase with more tasks at hand, or does it diminish? Have you ever experienced a complete absence of stress? If your experiences align with those of many entrepreneurs I’ve encountered, the answers reveal some uncomfortable realities.

Nonetheless, we must acknowledge that all significant endeavors are accompanied by stress. While our experiences are uniquely our own, we are not isolated in this journey. What distinguishes us, perhaps, is our tenacity to delve further into the abyss of discomfort.

Resilience is, without a doubt, the most prevalent skill among founders. The ability to respond swiftly and adapt continuously is essential, even if it is fraught with stress. We may not govern the variables of our equation, but we tirelessly strive for balance.

Your time is invaluable, and your response is irreplaceable. Engage fully, explore deeply, and derive value from these experiences. Resist the urge to be overwhelmed by stress; instead, channel it. Do not be submerged by a sea of tasks; master them.

Today, take a moment to regard your journey as a testament to the choices you’ve made thus far.

Stress: Every Founder’s Best Friend was originally published in Founder Craft on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

May 27, 2023

Dearest Solomon,

Today is your 8th birthday. I think it’s the first time you were visibly excited for it to be your birthday and that’s a wonderful thing in my book.

Your celebration was a near disaster, with your original party getting rescheduled at the last minute both to conflicts with your friends’ schedules and then with you getting Strep and being out of commission for a few days. Luckily, your mom saved the day, as always, and got everything back in order.

On Thursday, you had a field trip to the Denver Aquarium followed up by a few hours of jumping with your friends at Urban Air—a full day filled with fun.

Today, your birthday was spent mostly at home with family. All your grandparents were here with you which is a blessing in its own right. You opened presents first thing in the morning and we spent the day playing new games on your Nintendo Switch.

It’s been a year of growth and change. Let me reflect for just a moment on them.

New Loves

Childhood, much like life, is most blessed when you find and renew your love for it. You’ve seemingly discovered a few new loves this past year.

Fletcher

By far, as you declared on your own, your favorite new love was our new dog, Fletcher — a Shitzu rescue who joined the family not more than a few months ago. He’s a cuddly, lovable little soul and has none of the agro behavior his older brother Rex has. They couldn’t be more opposite and perhaps that’s why he seems to be your favorite.

Sonic

If your Sonic-themed birthday was a dead giveaway, all the time we’ve spent watching movies and now playing games is proof enough that this little hedgehog is one of your new loves. I remember Sonic from when I was younger, but never like this. It’s funny but you even will run like him.

School

I’m happy to report that despite the setbacks with homeschooling and remote schooling, everything is back on track and you’re kicking butt. I’d hardly call you a “nerd”, but you nerd out on plenty of things these days and it’s great to see you unlocking more of your potential every day.

Old Souls

Some things never change, that’s for sure. And while history doesn’t necessarily repeat, it sure does rhyme. I went back to look at last year’s letter to see what I had written and let’s update on those.

Challenge Yourself More

I had hoped that you would challenge yourself to get out of your comfort zone, but that’s not quite where you're at yet. You’ve definitely got your own competitive streak, but it’s not overt. I hope that pushes you to strive for more and to take on bigger tasks and risks, but we’ll see.

Be More Active

You still love skiing and took on your first black diamonds this year. It was so good to see you (and Mom) level up here. We didn’t get to go as much as we would have liked but every trip was better than the last and a memory of its own. At heart, though, you're still the homebody you've always been.

They say you can’t really remember much from before you are three. For me most of my true memories come from the very age you are at now. As I think back to those days, I can’t help but see so much of me in you every day.

Everything from your tiny appetite, skinny frame, nerding out, and penchant for staying home I see a glimpse of the younger me every day.

As parents, it’s natural for us to want you better for you. I’d be remiss to say I wished you were more of the things that I wasn’t, if not only because I think it likely makes life go a little easier as a kid growing up. But that’s just what I think.

It’s your journey, son. I’m sure you’ll find the path that you need. I know we’ll be there to support you no matter where it takes you.

Happy birthday, papa.

Love always,
Dad

Eight was originally published in Letters to Solomon on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

January 30, 2023

Dearest Solomon,

It’s 6:30 am here in Steamboat Springs. We escaped, against all odds, for a quick getaway to be with friends and to ever-so-subtly bring in another birthday for your dad. I honestly thought we wouldn’t make it but I am beyond grateful we got here.

As is our tradition, I want to reflect and bring some meaning to the last year of my life. I struggled with the theme this year, if I am honest, as many parts of last year set me down a somber path. It wasn’t until I saw this piece of art from my friend that I realized it need not be so.

Last year can be described with the word heart. Let me share all the ways.

My love for my work

It’s a privilege and honor to be able to do what you love. Most folks go their entire life doing work for others but never relishing it for themself. I’ve had the ultimate luxury to do that on my own terms for the entirety of my professional career, even before my “career” started.

But the weight of being your own boss is full of fear, uncertainty, and doubt. At any given moment, you can find yourself terrified at what happens next — at how low the next low can be. This has an especially sinister companion, something called Imposter Syndrome. I wrote much more about that here, but let me explain why it struck me now.

Despite all my experiences and mistakes over the years, I always found a way forward. For the last 3 years (which feels like a lifetime), I’ve been trying to build something new. And for 3 years, it’s felt like I failed every which way to do so. After too many false starts, failed instincts, and miscalculations my confidence was shaken. Maybe I just don’t have it anymore.

When I was younger, I maybe wanted to be a successful entrepreneur for the glory that came with it. Today, I just need to be one to make sure I’ve done everything to leave you and your mom safe if something should happen to me — a far more solemn and precious set of requirements.

But something happened this year. Perhaps it was the company I kept, the connections I made, or the external fears forcing my focus, but I turned a corner. Instead of doubting myself, I started to pull together all the things I learned and mastered and used them to my aid. Finally, I felt in control.

We’re not there yet, and we’re still making mistakes, but I have that joy and love for work again. I have focus without overwhelming fear. I have a shot.

Finding my love with new friends and family

If you ask anyone, they’ll tell you I’m an extrovert. Forever, I’ve said I am mostly an introvert and this behavior is learned — a necessity of my job, etc. But now, I’m not so sure.

While I’ll usually still choose to stay home and do nothing, this post-covid year truly showed me how much I value and need all the amazing people in my life.

From weddings to birthdays to vacations we’ve been to loads of places this year and it filled me with so much love to see all the people we know and love. I know I wouldn’t be me without them and I hope in some small way the same is true for all of them.

Professionally, too, it’s been a joy to meet new colleagues, to mentor so many new entrepreneurs, and equally to have them mentor me. It’s been a true motivator to hear from others and get their honest reflections on your work and progress. It’s even more enriching to meet pure strangers who get value from something you’ve created.

It takes a lot of effort, but it pays dividends — make the investment, son.

Finding my love for new and old things

I’m a lifetime learner, it’s true. I am constantly exploring new things — particularly in business and tech which likely is boring as all heck to many — but it’s what I do.

Last year, I was deep into building communities, crypto, and towards the end A.I. and all it has to offer. These things have provided a mountain of new ideas, conversations, relationships, and friendships.

At the same time, I re-discovered all sorts of lost items in my life including a love for fashion, art, coding, and much more. Sometimes, finding something new is as simple as finding something old again. I’m lucky to have had the chance to reconnect with some of my old passions as well.

As this year wound down, I even managed to find my way back to fitness. For the better part of the year, I couldn’t summon the mental strength to get myself in gear.

But excuses are enemies — fight them.

Struggling with my health

Lastly, and perhaps most importantly, I chose this theme of heart quite literally.

I’m not about to die, I promise you that as best I can. But what seemed like smooth sailing doesn’t feel quite so smooth anymore. I already wrote about my first trip to the emergency room and my realization and recognition of the fears of my father.

On December 30, I found myself back in the emergency room. Earlier that day, I had gone to get my cholesterol checked and while there, my blood pressure was elevated. For the days prior, I was feeling a lot of eye strain and having headaches, but I assumed it was something going around — we had just got back from vacation and everyone was sick.

The hypochondriac in me was concerned and when the doctors asked if I could check my blood pressure again, I obliged. 135… 145… 165… in a 30-minute window and the next thing I know they want me to go in.

It was just about your bedtime and your mom suggested I just Uber there. My heart sank, flashbacks to the last time, to Pops. You both gave me a ride instead, I told your mom I loved her, came around to the back, kissed your little cheek, and quickly closed the door so you wouldn’t see me cry.

Fortunately, they found nothing and I was quickly sent back home. But the terror machine was in full swing. My symptoms didn’t really go away, but I found ways to rationalize what was happening. I went back in for more testing and at least for now, crossing my fingers, I’m still not pre-diabetic and don’t have high blood pressure — two of the ailments your grandpa had and I have worked so hard to avoid.

But I won’t settle for skating, I can’t. That was a wake-up call and in all the best ways. It meant being mindful of what I eat, how much I sleep, how much I drink, and how much I exercise. Not the usual New Year’s resolutions, a resolution to be here for as long as I possibly can.

Last year went by so fast I can barely remember it. It was filled with highs and lows, nothing new, but something different.

It takes a tremendous amount of heart to do anything in life. It takes an infinite amount more to weather all that will come your way from others. The only way to break a heart is to not use it at all, so give away as much of yours as you can if you want it to grow, son.

Love Always,
Dad

48: Heart was originally published in Letters to Solomon on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

May 27, 2022

Dearest Solomon,

Today is your 7th birthday, it’s been quite a year. We almost made it back to everyday life, but your entry into 1st grade was still overall a success.

In thinking about your last year and all the things you’ve done, I thought it would be nice to break it down into 3 different buckets: things I observed, things I admire, and things I hope for.

Things I Observed

Sensitivity

It’s easy for us as parents to take for granted that our children already experience the full range of emotions that we do. In our hearts, we’d love to believe that everything is perfect, and our children are happy beyond belief.

This year, it became readily apparent to me that you were your own person, one sensitive to much more than I likely gave you credit for. I’ve seen you sad, happy, fatigued, excited, caring, and everything in between.

It’s not just wonderful to see, but also a sign that you are experiencing much of what the world has to offer, for better or worse.

Learner

Another thing we’re likely to take for granted in our older days is the joys of learning. We can become jaded to things, assuming we’ve mastered them. We haven’t.

This year, I saw you step into the role of student in new and exciting ways. From your adventures in the science museum to your steady mastery of math and reading, we can see you absorbing so much, so fast.

Pickiness

Sometimes, when you see your child, you see yourself — and that’s not always a good thing :). I certainly remember being a picky eater and I know from stories your mom was too.

Your appetite has not changed much, though your love of donuts is commendable in my book. You’ve also expressed an interest in hard-boiled eggs. Other than that, it’s a steady regiment of meatballs (brown and red), dumplings (Chinese and Russian), and occasionally pizza (cheese only).

Sociable

When you’re young, you often make some of the best friends you will have in your entire life. To this day, I still vividly remember the names and times of so many of my friends from even elementary school.

As the year wore on, we could finally start to see not only that you had more friends than we realize, but that you really enjoyed spending time with them. We’ve had all kinds of playdates and activities now with your friends and it’s great to see you all together.

Things I Admire

Depth of Play

I can’t remember really loving to play, I was so serious as a kid and maybe too serious now as an adult. But I see you play and it amazes me how deeply and far into your imagination you can dive. It’s just not something I seem to possess in remotely the same way.

Perhaps the part we do share is an imagination that knows no bounds, even if we apply it to different things.

Kindness

We’ve heard it from every corner, from teachers at school to parents you’ve spent time with — you’re a kind and considerate child. There are many things we try to encourage you to be, but kindness has never been one of them. That comes from you, deep inside.

We can all learn a lesson from your kindness. Hold onto it as long as you can, the world feels too often designed to make us less kind to each other.

Things I Hope For

Challenge Yourself More

Everyone loves to feel comfortable, but you’ll grow more by challenging yourself. Too often I see you not wanting to try something new (see food) or try harder at things you haven’t quite mastered yet. Try harder, do better.

It’s one thing to not like or enjoy something you’ve come to be familiar with. It’s an entirely different thing to never try or know. Do the former, not the latter.

Be More Active

Growing up, I was definitely more of an “inside” kid, too, but I still spent loads of time outside. When we moved here to Colorado, our hope was that you would have more of the freedom to explore outside than we could offer you in San Francisco.

If your Dad can be an example at all, I hope you will see it’s never too late to try out a new sport or activity, even the ones that happen outside.

Happy Birthday, son. It took me until May 31 to finish this letter. We had a fun trip to Las Vegas to see friends and family. Life doesn’t get in the way, it is the way.

Love always,
Dad

Seven was originally published in Letters to Solomon on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

May 10, 2022

Dearest Solomon,

I’m sitting here on a bed in the hospital. A few hours ago, I started feeling like I couldn’t breathe like there was a weight on my chest. This had been happening here and there over the past week and I have been noticing it more and more.

This felt worse and it scared me. I went upstairs to ask your mom what she thought, but you guys were out getting a haircut. All your grandparents were downstairs, but I didn’t want to alarm them. So I called up a doctor friend to get his advice. He recommended going in.

I was going to drive myself, but Grandpa insisted that he would drive me. I was grateful. I passed Grandma Patsy, who was on the porch with Rex. I told her I was going to the hospital. I thought maybe I should give her a hug just in case. Instead, I took one long look.

Getting in the car, feeling my heart and now my stomach, in my throat, I couldn’t help but think what if I won’t come back. I thought about you not being there and me not getting to say goodbye to you or your mom. I thought about passwords, my last letter to you, and all manner of random things faster than light. I just thought, what if. What if? Your grandpa was in the back of my mind already.

The process here has been quick — no one was there and I breezed right in. Within 10 minutes I had my blood pressure and an EKG done. Ten minutes later, I was already in a room with a consult and an IV put in and several vials of blood off for tests to see if anything was amiss. At first blush, no one was worried, even me. Ten minutes later I had a chest x-ray. I chatted with the Vietnamese doctor and gave him a recommendation about a new Vietnamese bakery we just discovered in the neighborhood.

The head doctor came in to let me know it would be a couple of hours. Her first impression is some inflammation from the viral infection I have. Maybe it’s reflux. Likely it’s nothing more, but we’ll see in a bit. So I am waiting.

I wish I could say it is just a couple of hours. I wish I could say the weight on my chest is gone or that my head isn’t killing me. I wish my jaw wasn’t hurting. But most of all, I wish I wasn’t so depressed. My health has been on my mind for weeks, this is just the ugly truth about it.

A couple of weeks ago, my battle to manage my heart on its own feels like it ended. Despite all the diet, training, and care I have put in for decades, my cholesterol has become unmanageable on my own. After 20 years of resisting statins, hoping, nay, knowing, I could do it on my own, I conceded that I couldn’t. I started them a week ago and it felt like an utter defeat. I know it’s probably nothing, but it feels like running in the opposite direction my whole life was just running in a circle to end up in this spot.

When your Grandpa Cecil was in his forties, he was first diagnosed with his diabetes. He had always suffered from heart issues, having open heart surgery in his thirties. But later in his forties, high blood pressure and his cholesterol lead to him going into the hospital first for blockages, then for stents, and ultimately for his untimely passing.

The last part of his journey started around my age. Am I starting mine? For all the optimism and hope I preach, inside I am always fighting these devils. These fears, whether rational or not, weigh on me like the weight on my chest right now. We are not the same, my dad and I, but here we are.

I don’t know if the insomnia I have had for weeks, or the sluggishness and loss of motivation to go to the gym is because I am sick, tired, depressed, or all of the above. I do know it’s been draining in every way, most of which I haven’t spoken about to anyone. It feels like defeat. It. feels like doom. It feels like destiny.

Being here, thinking of you, and knowing how I feel, made me realize something terrible. I realized how selfish I have been all these years. In all these letters and mental debates I have with myself, never once did I ever step into my dad’s shoes on the last part of his journey. Never once, maybe out of fear, did I try to imagine his last days and moments. Never once did I feel his pain, until now. I’m so sorry, Pops.

I am sure Pops left the house that last time assuming he would come home soon. I know the last time I saw him he brimmed with the confidence he would be home soon. But that, as usual, may have been the strong exterior he always had, that he always felt he had to have.

That was Pops, always optimistic it will be fine. Always able to find a solution. Trying to be strong for us all — I dunno. That sounds like me. That feels like me. And that is the saddest thing of all — I never saw me in him until I was laying here in a hospital bed.

I made it home tonight. I wish I had something more telling or poignant to share with you tonight.

I came home, changed my clothes, hugged your mom, check on you and my mom, and am finishing this letter before I get to bed.

I started these letters so that if I was suddenly not here, you would be left with no doubts or surprises. I’ll go to bed tonight filled with both. But at least I’m home.

Love Always,
Dad

Probably Nothing was originally published in Letters to Solomon on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

January 30, 2022

Dearest Solomon,

I’ve circled the sun one more year with you, welcoming another chance to reflect on the time that’s passed and what it has meant to me. I had decided on the theme of this year’s letter many, many months ago, but as per usual, hadn’t started composing it in my mind until this morning.

We’ve all been through so much this past year, I feel this year’s theme of Endurance is a rallying call for all of us. But in the spirit of finding the one thing that was most salient to me in the year that’s past, for this moment, I’ll do my best to do it justice.

Endurance is the ability to withstand hardship or adversity. To me, endurance is most often associated with athletes and physical activities, but that doesn’t do justice to how important it is in every one of our lives on a daily basis. In truth, hardship and adversity manifest constantly.

Endurance is most often measured over time, but I think it is unwise to over-index on the length of time and more so the intensity over time. Almost anyone can do something with intensity in a short burst, but sustaining it is the hard part. I’d better define endurance as mustering the energy and determination to continue. I think there are three critical things necessary to truly endure:

1. Strength — the physical energy to function
2. Motivation — the mental energy to continue
3. Perspective — the existential energy to track your progress

Strength measures all of the physicality of doing something. This may be an act of actual physical strength or simply the strength to rise every morning. Not only do athletes need strength, but we all must also build a healthy lifestyle to support our ability to function at the levels we need.

Motivation is the mental focus and drive required at the moment to push forward. Motivation is the passion and energy we bring into everything we’re doing. Without motivation, we’ll quickly fall dormant — the exact opposite of endurance.

Perspective is the ability to see outside of the moment towards a larger goal or pursuit. It is also what gives us the ability to refactor our larger goal or mission into smaller breakpoints, wins, and rewards. Perspective is the most critical part of endurance in my opinion. Without it, everything else falls apart quickly.

This year was full of moments. Looking back, I can’t believe I did some of them myself. I’ll share some to illustrate how endurance was my theme this year.

The Show

As you already know by now, I committed to this bodybuilder path for another few years. It’s been a trying year for me, largely due to a lack of motivation.

This year, I was supposed to do a show on June 9th. I started cutting for the show in April and never poured my heart into it. I had bulked up to my heaviest weight ever, 171lbs, but that also meant I had A LOT to lose before the show. Not knowing what weight I was going to be (perspective) was a big part of the problem.

At the same time, we were coming out of COVID, the summer was here, we had friends in the real world again, and I just could not get my mind into it. Eventually, I decided that I wouldn’t do the show and punted to the August 13th show. So settled was I, that we bought plane tickets for Grandma Patsy to come back to see me for the first time.

But something happened. I still couldn’t muster the motivation. The part of me that knew I made this commitment couldn’t win out over the moment. I did make a better effort, but it wasn’t enough. As I readied to go to NYC to surprise your grandma for her 80th birthday, I came to a hard but important realization — traveling to sit and watch others eat and drink from the sidelines and missing out on the reason I was going entirely, while also being totally not show-ready made absolutely no sense. I skipped again.

At this point, I had only 1 choice left. The November 12th show, the hardest one of the year, as my show (remember I promised to do 1 per year). Labor day came and I settled into the proper work required. I moved my weight from the 150s down to 135lbs eventually on show day. I didn’t do well, by any meaningful standard, but I showed up.

It’s no small feat to get on stage, I don’t care what condition you’re in. It’s another thing to set yourself up when you know you almost certainly can’t win. And yet, I did it again. It took 300+ workouts, hours of cardio, careful planning of food, and even a few dozen hours practicing posing for a few minutes on stage. But I wasn’t on stage to win the show, just to win more time here with you and our family. I train to live, not win.

The Race

Two years ago, I bought a bike shortly after you got your first real bike for your birthday. I was the only one without a bike at the time and didn’t want to miss out. Who knew what it would turn into.

Last year, I competed in my first official race — The Denver Century. If you haven’t figured it out, that means riding 100 miles straight. Prior to this race, the longest I had ever biked was 75 miles or so — all in the training to get ready.

Along this journey, I have gotten to make some new friends and connect with existing friends on a shared activity. That’s been a big win. It’s also been a great motivator. From my morning rides with Nate, Alex, and David to the more challenging ones with Stuck and the crew, it’s been a way to connect with folks while also chasing goals.

I biked 1931 miles in 2021 (up 181 miles from 2020). 110 of those were for this race and we climbed 7K+ feet in elevation across the day. It took from 10 hours all in to complete this race and I was completed depleted when it was over. It was one of the rare times where I’ve said I am not sure I’ll ever do that again.

You see, to get good at cycling you need a lot of time and motivation. Nothing prepares you for longer rides than riding further and further. Building up more speed and strength helps you shorten the time to do the same distance. Unfortunately, my other training goals are often at odds with this and my schedule just doesn’t afford me much time to put more into it.

The physical part here is grueling, but the mental part is so overwhelming that you can easily give us. Knowing where you are going, that perspective, helps tremendously — just 10 more miles was the all too common mantra in my head all day long.

The Startup

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been an entrepreneur. The majority of that time, and still very much so today, I have had no idea what I am doing. I’ve been driven by a fundamental belief that the world is ripe for improvement and I can help.

This year, the startup I have been trying to get off the ground for the past 3 years almost finally took. After 9 months of juggling consulting and building, we finally got to the place where we were committed to it full time. I ended all my consulting work, started talking to investors, and prepared to dive in.

It’s been a trial by fire for sure. 4 different ideas with countless iterations and hand-wringing in the middle. I wasn’t sure we would get here, especially considering how sure I was about all the other versions that were now on the cutting room floor.

In November, though, we got accepted into a program called Techstars here in Boulder. It’s one of the best accelerators for startups like us. It was a strong vote of confidence in us. We raised some more money and now we’re off to the races.

The funny thing is, though, that we changed everything once again since all of those things happened — a pivot. We’re building something completely new. We’re both excited and scared about what’s to come. But the time has told me a few things. First, I have the strength to do this due to the investments made along the way. Second, I have the motivation to do it — I can’t imagine life any other way than building the future. Lastly, I have the renewed perspective that certainty is a cancer that holds us back, so let go of it.

These stories aren’t meant to prop up some kind of superhuman strength. In fact, I hope they show you just the opposite. It’s taken me a lifetime to get to where I understand a few really important things:

1. Strength comes from within AND without
2. Motivation is like a gas tank you must constantly refill
3. Perspective means finding your way and not being afraid to ask for directions
4. You’re as alone as you choose to be
5. Some asshole is always gonna have some shit to say

I’m grateful at the end of this year to have the strength, motivation, and perspective to try to be the best at everything others might say I can’t be. I’m proud to succeed at my potential, even if it’s not the best or better than everyone else.

I hope you find this fortune early in life, son.

Love always,
Dad

47: Endurance was originally published in Letters to Solomon on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

May 27, 2021

Dearest Solomon,

Happy 6th birthday, son. We made it through what can only be described as one of the most challenging years in the short history we’ve occupied. But not that you would have noticed — you took it all in stride.

Last year, I wrote to you about the 5 senses and how I could see them all in your life. This year, let me see if I can’t tell you about the 6th sense. Aside from being a pretty good movie, the 6th sense is not really a sense at all but a recognition of everything beyond that. It’s also defined as the “reception of information not gained through the recognized physical senses”.

To me, it’s about your intuitions and your ability to draw conclusions from the information around you. Throughout the last year, I’ve started to see these subtle things that still leave me in awe. I likely can’t do justice to them, but let me try to illustrate some of these things so hopefully, you’ll continue to double down on them.

Right and Wrong

Children learn from the examples set by their parents, friends, and family. I have many a friend who struggles with their own children but we have been blessed with a child whose greatest fear seems to be being called a “bad boy”.

I consider ourselves lucky that outside of the things we help you understand about right and wrong, you seem to already have established your own rules for right and wrong, fair and unfair, and good and bad. I am sure I am just a doting Dad here, but so be it.

You may not always know what to do, but if you can keep these small traits close to your heart, I know you will do the right thing.

Exploration

If you had asked me before now if I considered you adventurous, I would have scoffed at the idea. You’re so much like I remember myself as a child. Inwardly focused, awkward around others, allergic to outside, and mildly obsessive with knowledge as it comes your way.

I was wrong. I used to think you were too cautious, unwilling to explore. But the more I see you grow and evolve, I realize that your exploration is inwards. Maybe not fully as an introspection into who you are, but an exploration of the many worlds within that others don’t take the time to see or care to see.

What we may observe as solitude are adventures on their own. I’ve come to appreciate them more and more. I hope you continue to be the adventurer you are at heart, it will be a great source of empathy and power in your life.

Exuberance

“This boy doesn’t get tired,” your Grandma Patsy said to me the other day as you went into your 8th hour of straight play and wander. All children seem to teem with energy, but exuberance is a different matter. Not all movement is efficient.

Much as I have come to see that your exploration is an inner form of adventure, I now see that your exuberance is an expression of your own expertise. The zeal with which you dive into things has no match — just ask anyone to incorrectly identify a dinosaur or monster truck if they doubt me.

Time wears us down. It makes us jaded and gives way to convenience. Keep that energy level where it’s at, inspire others to their best, and keep pushing yourself to new limits. That is the only way to be infinite, yourself.

Experimentation

A scientist at heart, it seems. Before this year, I hadn’t observed you trying to “wire” things together as much as you have in the last 6 months. As you see the lines and forces between things, you’re starting to not only use those boundaries but to test them.

From tricks with water to telling your first joke, you’re starting to use the knowledge you are acquiring and combining it in new and interesting ways. As a tinker and builder at heart, it fills me with pride to see you trying new things and conquering things along the way.

Please don’t give up on the first try. Everything we do is just one step in the process. I know you will continue to experiment, push the limits, and likely fall down — but not as many times as you get up.

I’m proud of how much you’ve changed this last year, son.
I’m happy we got through all this together and healthy.
I’m excited to see the world through your eyes — even if it’s through tears from time to time.

Happy sixth birthday, son.

Love always,
Dad

Six was originally published in Letters to Solomon on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.