Recently, I took a trip to Idaho to visit my son. He’ll be 56 this July. I adopted him when he was six weeks old, and from the moment he came into my life, he brought me more joy than I could ever explain in a sentence or two. We’ve had a good life together. Not perfect. No life is. But real. As parents, I think we sometimes freeze our children in time without realizing it…

Lately, I’ve been looking at getting older a little differently. I don’t see it as something slipping away anymore. I’ve started to think of it more like a 1943 Ford – still standing, still running, but with a few parts that have needed attention along the way. If I take inventory, I’ve had my share of work done. There’s a screw in my knee from a skiing accident back in…

There’s something I’ve come to notice as I’ve gotten older, and once I saw it, I couldn’t unsee it. It is this basic truth: We don’t give ourselves much credit. When I look back on my life, the facts are there. I built and ran businesses. I bought, remodeled, and sold twenty-six homes. I earned a pilot’s license. I played in bands…

There’s a line in a song I wrote recently that stayed with me longer than the music: “I know it’s my own doing… bein’ where I be… but that don’t make it easier… livin’ inside of me.” I didn’t write that line as advice. It wasn’t meant to fix anything. It just showed up one day, the way honest things tend to do. And the more I sat with it, the more I realized how much of life can feel like that…

There’s something I’ve noticed over the years. People don’t usually welcome new things. Not at first. They question them. Push back. Sometimes reject them outright. And only later – when those same things quietly begin to help – they reconsider…

There are days when the body quietly reminds you who is in charge. It doesn’t ask permission. It doesn’t check your plans. It simply slows you down, and with it, something else slows down too – your mind. Last night, I didn’t feel well. Nothing serious, just enough to take the edge off everything…

A woman over 60 wrote to me not long ago. She had written something for a friend who was leaving for another job. It wasn’t dramatic or elaborate. It was simply honest – an expression of how much she had valued the friendship, how much she would miss her, and how hard it felt to say goodbye…

One of the strangest things about getting older is that life can become quieter. Sometimes that quiet is peaceful. But other times it feels like emptiness. It can feel like loneliness is creeping in, even when you’re surrounded by people…

There are moments when old letters or early writings resurface – sometimes by accident, sometimes deliberately. When that happens, what stands out isn’t the words themselves, but the feelings that rise while reading them. Not the feelings we have now, but the ones that once compelled us to write at all…

When I signed up for ChatGPT, I was simply curious. I wasn’t looking to build a relationship with artificial intelligence, and I certainly wasn’t interested…