On Fatherhood, Manhood & Becoming Better Ancestors.
My daughter had just told me she was pregnant.
Her boyfriend beside her, holding her. Carla in the room. And my baby girl, looking at me, waiting to see who her father was going to be in that moment.
For years, when laying our sleepy heads, I whisper in her ear:
Thank you for choosing me, again, today.
Then she echoes: thank you for choosing me.
This past weekend my bonus daughter asked me to officiate her wedding.
The third young woman walked off the stage and I did the math.
I looked to my left. I looked to my right.
My biggest discovery? I have always been a writer and a poet. I just forgot over the years.
There’s a personality type I avoid like a ‘We need to talk’ text.
High-energy. Overpromising. Charismatic.
Male. Female. Doesn’t matter.
All my life, I’ve been afraid to share my joy. My corny personality.
But that’s how I’m wired.
That’s how I show up in the real world. So I’ve decided to share those parts anyway. Even more now that I’m old AF and give fewer effs.
Before I started dancing, I didn’t realize how much of myself I’d been holding back.
Last year I had to admit something to myself.
I haven’t always been a good friend.
Nothing scandalous. Just the kind of mistake you make when you’re young, ambitious, and ignorant.
Wearing the logo doesn’t make you legendary. It makes you a billboard.
I used to think certain things would make me feel seen, like I had finally “made it.” But chasing that feeling through stuff? It never lasts.
I didn’t know how to run a business, but I was also conflicted about what work was supposed to feel like.
Every month, I print 10 photos, small moments that matter enough to keep. While the world scrolls past thousands of images, I choose to hold mine in my hands, feel the paper, and turn the pages.
On Fatherhood, Manhood & Becoming Better Ancestors.