A professional shooter, a father, and two children have all shaped the way I think. None sat me down for a lesson. Life doesn’t teach that way. Sometimes, it whispers something you didn’t want to hear—from someone you didn’t expect to say it.
Let Him Play Chess
Years ago, I was at the range with Ben, a world-class shooter and close friend. My wife was pregnant with our firstborn, and as we sat reloading between drills, I said, “I can’t wait to bring my son out here one day.”
Ben looked at me and asked, “What if he likes chess?”
It landed harder than I expected. Ben—who’s dedicated his life to mastering this sport—was telling me not to assume, not to push. Let him discover his own thing, he said. Support him all the way.
That stuck. With both my kids, I’ve made it a point not to script their paths. But I do let them witness mine. They see me train, run, write, dry fire. I don’t pressure them to join. But I always leave the door open.
Presence matters more than pressure. Kids don’t follow lectures—they follow patterns. And the most honest form of parenting is living a life you’d be proud to see them imitate.
The Janitors
I was eight or nine, hanging out in my father’s office after hours. I loved those executive spaces—his corner desk, the giant leather chairs, the air of importance.
Then the janitors came in.
They greeted him like they knew him. And he greeted them with full respect—no different than how he greeted his partners. Later, he told me something I never forgot:
“Always treat everyone with respect. Doesn’t matter where they’re from or what they do.”
It’s a simple principle, but I’ve carried it with me ever since. You don’t know what life will hand you—or them. Status shifts. Fortune turns. Life is a brutal equalizer.
Respect everyone. You’ll never regret it.
Pay Attention
No one’s taught me more about presence than my children.
Before I became a father, I thought I understood what it meant to “pay attention.” But kids reveal the truth. They notice everything. They emulate everything. And more than anything, they just want you—fully there.
That’s the lesson: don’t be a shit parent. Put down the phone. Get on the floor. Enter their world. Let them ramble. Let them ask the same question ten times. That curiosity—their creative impulse—isn’t just annoying noise. It’s the raw material of who they’ll become.
Give them attention like it matters—because it does. More than anything else you do.