Dear Older me, I hope you are having fun winter trekking through the Ozarks. Please remember watching Bear Grylls for three years does not make you an wilderness expert.

I doubt I can wax as poetically as the street poets on Frenchmen Street about New Orleans, but there is something about this place that wakes up my imagination.

Tuesday, December 12th, was one of the best days of my life. No one or no words can accurately describe the feeling of becoming a parent.  Holding the little guy in my arms felt unbelievably warm.

Steph was the first one I ever shared the notion with that I could craft an inspirational message about emotional health through speaking and writing. She read some of the first pieces I wrote about my Dad’s death.

We sat there talking about what would be next step of our lives, what we had accomplished, and excitement for the next journey.

As I strolled around the Fareway grocery store Monday night after work, I was perplexed. I had no idea where the stupid breadcrumbs were in this store. But the path to the breadcrumbs took my on a trip. 

I guess as a society we have thrown character out the window and our moral compass only points true north when it casts a good light in our favor.  Now it’s always the other guy's fault.

I finish my pre-talk routine by pulling out a thank-you note my brother wrote years ago after I was in his wedding.