These Are the Good Old Days
the “perfect” project
I’ve designed a number of spaces I’m proud of. People have seemed to resonate with them. But I’m driven, and it’s easy to dream wistfully of the project. You know, the one that will really make a mark.
Call me trite, but here’s the truth: the greatest, most beautiful projects in my life are already well underway. They’re living in my house, 24/7, sharing my last name.
a different kind of ROI
The care I put into building a place is nothing compared to the craftsmanship of raising a child. It’s a life’s work. And boy, there’s a lot to learn.
Each day, Helen and I get to work on their “character house,” laying a foundation of love and trust, unlocking doors and dreams that will set their life’s course.
In hospitality and real estate terms, Lucas and Ezra don’t care about branding, ROI, or occupancy rates. They care about original bedtime stories with Dad. About time on the swing. About being cheered down the tallest slide in the park.
They care about being with us.
And every day, we’re curating an environment for them to thrive—shaping experiences they’ll carry for a lifetime.
proximity
It wasn’t like we planned it out this way, but I’m grateful that the sacrifices to launch Live Oak Lake (100+ hour weeks for a year) happened before Lucas was born.
I still work a ton, but in a different gear. Building The Nook just behind our house (and making a livelihood from it) means I’m never more than 30 seconds from my family. Makes me smile just typing that out.
My dad, a plumber with a small business, kept his office in our front yard. He was at breakfast every morning, sometimes lunch, too. And when he had to go to town, he’d rotate through all us kids, taking us with him for the afternoon whenever possible.
That left a mark.
a moment to reflect
Ezra is seven months old—fat, cheerful, and on the verge of crawling. For non-parents, that means plenty of time on the floor, grunting and screeching in frustration at toys he’s pushed just out of reach.
He also hasn’t figured out how to sleep for more than an hour at a time. (Helen is an angel. I don’t know how she does everything on so little sleep.)
Most mornings I wake to find the little man (and sometimes his big brother, too) sleeping between us, his round, rosy cheeks plopped against my pillow. Or I open my eyes to meet his, grinning ear to ear. Or to a poke from a chubby finger, followed by a fierce little giggle. Mission accomplished, Dad.
When he’s upset (which is more often than I’d like), his screams startle me in their ferociousness. But moments later, once his all-important need has been met by his dutiful servants (parents), his soft coos melt me, and I’m babbling to him a jumble of nonsensical adoration.
Raising little kids: so much work, so much wonderful.
Wonder. That’s the word.
Lucas is two, and every day he engages in new ways with us, his little brother, and the world. His knowledge seems to grow like compound interest. Always something new. Endless curiosity.
these are the good old days
All the beauty in the world starts at home. Around the dinner table. At the toddler’s bedside just before the light goes out. Or in the messiness of a room full of toys well-played in.
I promise you, just look through the eyes of a child, and you’ll see it.
Everything I do—projects, work trips, the orchard, our homestead, our community—is for our boys.
If it’s not, it’s not worth doing.
So here’s the simple message of what I’m learning: if you want to do something that matters, something that can really make a mark, do it for someone else—your kids, your spouse, your friends, your guests, your neighbor.
That’s where I find unending joy and inspiration.
I love you, Lucas & Ezra. Everything I do, I do it for you.
—Your dad ❤️❤️