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Some trips end up meaning more than you expect them to.

On the heels of a great weekend celebrating with a friend, we decided to head into New York City on Wednesday, but this trip felt different from the start.

For a little background, a friend of mine recently got married. What a lot of people do not know is that part of our friendship, and several others, was built through video games. Over time, those games turned into real friendships with real people in different parts of the country. For the wedding, one of those friends came in from another state to be there, and that impressed me. People throw around the words “friends” and “family” in online communities all the time, but seeing that kind of connection show up in real life was one of the clearest reminders I have had that those bonds can be very real.

Since our friend had never been to New York City before, we figured there was no better time to make the trip happen. So Wednesday morning, we did exactly that.

We got into the city around 8:00 in the morning, and even that early, New York was already fully awake. The city was loud, alive, and moving in every direction all at once. Cars, trucks, people, vendors, noise, motion. It was all there before most people would even consider the day started. We spent most of the day focused on the places our friend wanted to see most, making our way through some of the classic spots like Battery Park, Times Square, Rockefeller Center, and Central Park. Somewhere along the way, another friend made the trip in by train and joined us, which of course led to a few entertaining messages about leadership apparently holding a meeting in NYC. For privacy reasons, I will not be posting names or photos, as most of you know I try to keep this blog as anonymous as possible, but it made the day even better.

What stood out most to me, though, was not just the city itself. It was the experience of being there with good people. There was something about the whole day that felt bigger than just sightseeing. Maybe it was the reason we were all together in the first place. Maybe it was the reminder that some of the most meaningful friendships can come from the most unexpected places. Or maybe it was just one of those rare days where everything comes together in a way you know you will remember for a long time.

Central Park especially gave the day a different kind of pause. In a city that never really stops moving, it felt like one of the few places where you could sit still for a minute and let everything catch up to you. By the time we found ourselves there later in the day, it felt less like another stop on a list and more like a chance to take a breath and soak in everything the day had already been.

Eventually, we made our way to the 9/11 Memorial and Museum.

The memorial itself brought a different kind of quiet. In the middle of a city that never really slows down, that space somehow makes you do exactly that. It makes you pause. It makes you look around a little longer. It makes you think. There was a weight to it, but also a stillness, and I found myself taking that in more than anything else.

The museum is something I want to write about separately.

It deserves more than a passing paragraph, and honestly, it left enough of an impression on me that it would not feel right to fold it into the rest of this day and move on. Some places you visit, and some places stay with you. That one deserves its own space.

By the end of it all, somewhere between the noise of the city, the quiet of the memorial, and the stillness of Central Park, I realized this trip had become more than just a ride into New York. It was time with good people, proof that real friendship can come from unexpected places, and one of those days that leaves you with more to think about than you expected when it started.

It has been a minute since we were last here, and I finally took the time to sit down and write. The last couple of weeks have been busy, the kind of busy where the days just start running together before you even realize it. Work has picked up, the days are getting longer, the weather is warming up, and my mind is starting to shift toward spring and summer, toward family time, time at the campground, and the kind of moments that make all the long days worth it.

There is just something about this time of year that changes everything a little bit. Winter starts to loosen its grip, the sun hangs around longer, and things do not feel quite as heavy as they did a month or two ago. Even when work is busy, it feels different when the weather starts breaking. The days may still be long, but at least now there is something on the other side of them besides darkness and cold.

Work has definitely been keeping me moving, and honestly that is not always a bad thing. Staying busy has its place. It keeps you focused, keeps you going, keeps life moving forward. But somewhere in the middle of all of it, the early mornings, the long days, the routines, the nonstop motion, I have caught myself thinking more and more about the season ahead. About getting back to the campground, sitting outside in the evening, hearing the sounds of people relaxing, spending time with family, and just slowing life down a little bit.

I think that is what I have been craving more than anything lately, just a little bit of that slower pace. Not because life is bad, not because work is bad, but because sometimes you get so caught up in the everyday grind that you forget there is more to life than just getting through the week. You start looking ahead to those small moments, a fire at night, a quiet morning with coffee, laughing with family, sitting outside with nowhere you need to be right that second. Those are the things that start sounding real good this time of year.

Maybe that is what spring really is. Maybe it is not just about warmer weather or greener grass or the sun staying out later. Maybe it is about the shift that happens in your head after a long winter. That feeling that life is opening back up again. That maybe there is more ahead than just the daily routine. That maybe it is alright to start looking forward to things again.

I do not think it is some huge dramatic change, just more of a quiet one. A reminder more than anything. A reminder that the hard, cold, gray stretch does not last forever. A reminder that better days do come around again. A reminder that some of the best parts of life are not the big moments, but the simple ones you get with the people you care about.

So yeah, life has been busy. Work has been busy. The days have been full. But underneath all of that, there is still that feeling that a new season is here, and with it comes a different kind of energy. A little more hope. A little more peace. A little more reason to slow down long enough to enjoy what is right in front of you.

And maybe that is why I felt like writing tonight. Just to stop for a minute and recognize it. To acknowledge that even with everything going on, there is still something good about this time of year. The warmth coming back, the longer days, the thought of family, the campground, and a season that feels a little more alive. After a long winter, maybe that is enough. Maybe that is more than enough..

Thursday March 12, 2025 – 6:44 AM

The day started as it always does: alarm clock, cigarette, cup of coffee. For all purposes, it started the same way most of my days do.

I arrived at work and found what I usually do—people buzzing around early, starting their vehicles. I typically just ignore it. The rule is known by all of us: 6:45 is when we start. Granted, in the winter when it’s cold out they give us a little grace on the time to allow the trucks to warm up. But spring is on the horizon now. The temperatures have been up, and the snow is gone. What’s left are the push piles from the snow plows in the parking lots, a quiet reminder of what winter was—and what will come again in the following months.

We stood and talked, a small group of us. Some sipping that morning cup of coffee, others enjoying a cigar or cigarette before the day begins. We looked at the clocks—it was 6:43 AM—so we headed for our trucks. Hoods opened and the pre-trips began.

As the trucks started to come to life, our boss buzzed over in his truck and approached. He simply said that now that it’s warmer out, we’re not starting these before 6:45 AM.

I acknowledged the direction, and he added that he had to go handle the two guys over at the pile waiting to be loaded. Without really thinking, I let it slip:

“You mean the two… one of which starts his truck and has it idling by 6:15 in the morning at the latest?”

He confirmed and said he was going to speak with them.

I went back to my truck and carried on with my morning. The rest of the day felt normal. But it was clear he was having a conversation with them, because when I went over to that pile to get loaded later, he was still there talking to one of them.

The rest of the day actually felt almost peaceful. Back and forth deliveries for a good part of the day, ending it hauling stone into the wash plant. I followed my usual routine—phone calls to friends and family checking in, miles on the road, the window down with fresh air filling the cab. The warmth wasn’t coming from a heater anymore, but from the wind itself.

It brought my mind to thoughts of the campground and the spring and summer activities to come. We got the date—April 24th—for the seasonals. That’s a Friday, and we’ll be opening up on Saturday the 25th. More to come on that in a future post.

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Friday March 13, 2026 – 6:45 AM

Friday came and the same routine played out. Fast forward to work and the group of us stood around having our normal conversations. The morning felt awesome. A bit cooler than the day before, but still good times being had with good people.

At the usual time, 6:43 AM, we grabbed our lunches and whatever else we needed and started walking toward the trucks. Same routine: hoods open, checking fluids, starting the day.

Then one of the employees—the one my boss had spoken to the day before about starting his truck early—walked over and said something to another driver.

“6:45 is 6:45 since my coworkers are a bunch of cry babies. It’s a shame there’s no more free pre-trips for this place anymore. I punch in at 6:45 every day.”

That got under my skin.

Knowing who I am as a person, if I had been having a worse day maybe I would have approached him and asked him bluntly if he had a fking issue with me. But I didn’t. I just moved on with my day.

Later on though, it got me thinking.

How exactly did that conversation go between him and the boss the day before? Was it delivered as a simple directive—“don’t start the truck before 6:45”—or was it framed as “your coworkers are complaining”?

One of those is the proper way to handle it.

The other creates the kind of environment where coworkers start looking sideways at each other, where frustration builds, and where simple workplace expectations start turning into something bigger than they ever needed to be.

Unfortunately, we’ll probably never know exactly how that conversation happened. For now, I’ll just keep an eye on things. If it continues to be an issue, maybe I’ll call my boss and ask him about the interaction—explain what’s being said and how it’s being perceived.

Because sometimes the way something is communicated matters just as much as the message itself.

And that got me thinking about something bigger.

Workplaces are made up of people, and people are going to disagree from time to time. That’s just reality. But how those situations are handled—how they’re communicated, corrected, and guided—can make the difference between a team that works together and a workplace that slowly turns toxic.

So it leaves me with a question I’ve been thinking about ever since:

When issues come up where you work, how are they handled?

Are they addressed directly and professionally, or do they get pushed sideways until coworkers are left dealing with the fallout themselves?

It’s not a hard concept, but it’s one that seems to shape the culture of a workplace more than most people realize.

Maybe that’s something worth exploring a little deeper in a future post… especially when it comes to the idea of leadership.

Like many people, I find myself thinking of my future and wondering what it might look like. Sometimes, these thoughts bring excitement—a sense of possibility, of doors waiting to be opened, paths I haven’t yet discovered. Other times, uncertainty creeps in, and I feel the weight of all the unknowns pressing down.

Yet, despite the fears and doubts, there is a quiet hope that persists. I imagine a future shaped by the choices I make today, by the small acts of courage and kindness I can offer, by the determination to keep moving forward even when the path seems unclear. I hope for a life where purpose and passion meet, where challenges become lessons, and where setbacks are merely steps toward growth.

In this vision, I see not just personal success, but connection—with family, friends, and the wider world. I see opportunities to give back, to make a difference, and to leave a mark that matters. It is this hope—a belief that tomorrow can be brighter than today—that motivates me, even in moments of doubt.

And so, as I look ahead, I hold onto this simple truth: the future is not just something that happens to me—it is something I can shape, nurture, and create. Every choice, every effort, and every moment of hope adds a brushstroke to the life I am building. While the path may twist and turn, I am not afraid to walk it, because I know that even the smallest steps lead toward a brighter horizon. With hope as my guide, I step forward, ready to embrace whatever comes, confident that the best is yet to be.

For most of my life, I’ve been a private person. I’ve hated public speaking, hated standing in front of people and putting myself on display. I thought keeping my story inside would keep me safe. But over time, I realized it was doing the opposite. My story wasn’t being told. My voice wasn’t being heard. And in staying silent, I was letting the world define me instead of me defining myself.

Writing changed that.

It’s not the same as speaking to a crowd, but in some ways, it feels just as terrifying. To write honestly is to expose pieces of yourself that you normally hide. To write truthfully is to risk judgment, misunderstanding, even rejection. And yet, it’s also freeing in a way that nothing else has been.

I remember the first post I ever wrote on this page. I typed it, read it, deleted it, rewrote it, and then saved it as a draft. Days went by. I stared at that little “Publish” button, my finger hovering over it, wondering if I had the courage to let someone—anyone—see me like this.

When I finally hit “publish,” it felt like stepping off a cliff. My heart was pounding. I felt exposed. I felt terrified. And I felt alive.

Because in that moment, I realized that writing isn’t just about other people reading my words. Writing is about reclaiming my story. Writing is about letting myself exist fully, unapologetically, and on my own terms. Every word I write is me saying: “I am here. I’ve been here. I’ve lived, I’ve hurt, I’ve learned—and this is my truth.”

The more I write, the more I understand that silence was never protection—it was hiding. And the courage to put words out into the world is not just courage to be seen; it’s courage to be known.

For someone who has always avoided the spotlight, writing has become my voice. My safe place. My rebellion. My confession. My freedom.

And every time I let my story out, I feel a little more whole..

Today I was sitting at work, in a red truck, just thinking about the day. For some reason when I woke up this morning I felt a sense of being just blah, and for the first time in a long time I allowed that feeling to carry into work with me.

I am big on the concept of leaving things at the door. When I walk in—or rather get out of my vehicle at 6:35 in the morning—I usually leave the stress and most of the things bothering me in my pickup truck and go into work with a smile on my face. Today the smile was there on the outside, but on the inside I was miserable. My back was bothering me, and it seemed like everything was putting me in a bad mood.

I guess it didn’t help that I found out my assigned truck had been driven by someone else. The only spare we had available was a manual transmission, and my truck for the time being is an automatic. The driver who used it doesn’t normally drive the manuals we run, so my truck ended up being used.

When I checked it over, I noticed the body of the truck had been left dirty. That would have been annoying any day of the week, but today it was extra annoying. When I addressed it to my boss, he just stared at me and said something about how he had gotten complaints about me leaving bodies dirty before and that I should just clean it or drive the other truck because he didn’t have time for it.

Needless to say, that is probably the closest I’ve come in a long time to almost crossing a line with a manager. I didn’t come looking for an immediate solution except maybe something simple like “just drive the other truck and address yours later.” Instead, it felt like my concern was dismissed and flipped back on me by bringing up complaints that were supposedly from last year—complaints I had never heard about at the time, weren’t brought up then, and weren’t even mentioned during my review.

Throughout the day I was again met with the highway and time to just think. I made my normal phone calls, checked in with people, and vented to a coworker about my interaction that morning. Sometimes it’s necessary to just let it out and get some feedback.

As the day drew on, I found myself sitting and waiting to be loaded. I was staring out the windshield at the red hood of the truck and the yard in front of me. It was in that moment that I realized I had overreacted that morning and allowed my bad mood to walk through the front door of work with me, which is something I normally try very hard not to do.

In that moment I composed a quick text to my boss. Nothing big or extravagant, just a simple message:

“Hey bossman, just wanted to say I’m sorry for the attitude earlier. Having a rough day and my back hurts, so it’s putting me in an off mood. I’ll address my truck later, don’t worry about having the other driver do it.”

I knew I had been wrong in how I approached the situation and was trying to correct it. After I sent that message, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. It felt like I had started to make things right, and in doing so I made the rest of my day a little better.

While I’m driving, I often look for the lesson or reflection of the day. Today the lesson was simple: we all have stresses in life and things that will throw us off center. Bad mornings happen. Pain happens. Frustration happens.

What matters is how we handle those moments when they show up.

It does no good to go off half-cocked at someone, to let frustration take control, or to intentionally seek conflict. Sometimes the hardest thing to do is step back, take a breath, and admit when you brought the wrong energy into a situation.

Today I had to do exactly that.

And sometimes the right direction in life isn’t about never getting it wrong—it’s about recognizing when you did and making the effort to set things right.