I was 15 years old, sitting in a coffee shop with my dad. Dr. Pepper. A cherry Danish. The exact order I always got. His friend Steve came in and they started talking about someone going through a divorce, someone who had cheated on his wife. And Steve said he could never do that. He could never be that person.

My dad stopped him. Said: "You could. And it is possible."

I checked out the way teenagers do when adults say something too real. But when we got to the car, my dad turned to me and said he'd spent years on the road. Hotel rooms. Opportunities. He'd never cheated on my mom. And the reason he believed that, the thing he said kept him honest, was being willing to look in the mirror and admit it was possible.

Nobody wears the white hat all the time.

I've told my sons there will be things I have to apologize to them for. Not because I'm planning to fail them. Because I'm doing the best I know how, and the best I know how isn't the whole picture. There are things I can't see yet that I'll have to reckon with later.

That's not resignation. It's just the honest version of trying.

🎧 No Stage, Just a Chair

A podcast for people figuring it out as they go: building honest brands, real decisions, and work that feels like theirs.

Before You Listen:

Is there someone you've stopped trying to understand because it was easier to be right about them?

When did you last look in the mirror and admit you were capable of getting it wrong?