I had an idea when I was 23. It was a grand idea. Jump in a car with some friends and drive to the Pacific Ocean. The destination was the beaches of San Diego with stops in the Rocky Mountains, and Phoenix to visit a college buddy.

We act like the the line between homelessness and a mansion is as wide as the Grand Canyon instead of as thin as the point on a needle.

I lack the skill to fake a smile and every attempt to do so has the appearance of me trying to pass monopoly money off as real money.

Now came the dilemma that has arrived with the invention of social media. Is this moment, and the picture I had captured, for the internet and the world or would I keep it for myself?

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.