Every once in a while, life taps you on the shoulder and says, “Hey… pay attention to this part.”
The last three or four months have been full of those moments.
For Christmas, my daughter Kate—20 at the time—gave me a gift she could barely contain her excitement over. And when she told me it was the best gift she had ever given anyone… I came dangerously close to the full-blown Ugly Cry.
Not the single tear.
Not the dignified sniffle.
I’m talking commitment-level emotion.
She planned a trip. Just the two of us.
New York City. Broadway.
We saw the Stranger Things play.
And yes—the show was fantastic.
Truly.
If you’re even remotely into Stranger Things, it’s a must-see.
But the show wasn’t the thing.
The thing… was everything around it.
Kate planned it. Bought the tickets. Mapped it out.
And then—just to really drive the point home—she drove us there.
And back.
Car to train.
Train to NYC.
A great dinner.
Walking the city a bit—something I’ve always loved.
A Broadway show.
Then reverse the whole operation: walk, train, car… and home around 2:00am.
At some point during all of it—somewhere between the streets of New York and that late-night train ride—it hit me harder than it ever has before:
She’s not a kid anymore.
She’s fully, completely… her own person.
Now, I’d love to take a bow here.
Maybe a modest nod.
A “you’re welcome” to the universe.
But let’s be honest.
I might get a little credit.
A little.
The vast majority? That belongs to her mom.
And I’m okay with that.
Because what I’ll remember isn’t every detail of the trip—I’ll forget some of those, like we all do.
But I won’t forget how it felt.
Sitting there, realizing I wasn’t raising a child anymore… I was spending time with an adult I genuinely enjoy being around.
That sticks.
And just when I thought my tear ducts were getting a break…
Charlotte steps in.
Last year, Freshman year. Out of nowhere, she tells us she signed up for JROTC.
JROTC.
Now listen—I was mentally prepared for a surprise sport. Maybe something she’d never shown interest in before.
But this?
Didn’t see that one coming.
Charlotte has always marched to her own beat. If anything, she’s historically been very skilled at avoiding the things we tried to nudge her toward.
Which, honestly, I respect.
But this? This was different.
This was her choosing something.
Fully.
Independently.
No push.
No suggestion.
Just her saying, “This is what I want to do.”
And in that moment, you realize something else:
Maybe you did something right.
Or… maybe you were just smart enough not to mess it up.
Now in her Sophomore Year, she’s totally rocking the JROTC scene.
Parades, if you see a young female in uniform calling the cadence – THAT’S HER!!!
Now yes—this is my blog.
And in my blog, I take credit for a lot of things.
This is not one of them.
Parenting is a team sport.
But if we’re being real—Lisa is the head coach.
I’m the equipment manager.
And before anyone takes that the wrong way—teams fall apart without a good equipment manager.
Things don’t work.
People aren’t prepared.
Nothing runs smoothly.
It matters.
But I also know the difference between supporting the mission… and calling the plays.
Father of the Year? Not even close.
Equipment Manager of All-Time?
Yeah… I can live with that.
My Take on Life and Events 