I’m 38 years old, and I wonder if I’m doing enough.
There was this video I saw this fall, taken a few blocks from where I live, on a road I drive every day. Two plainclothes federal officers had pulled over a man in a pickup truck. The doors to the truck were open. The officers were on either side of the man, pulling on both arms in different directions. They dragged him from the car into an unmarked van. A man, disappearing from a public street.
And then there was a story in the local newspaper about student lunches here in the state of Utah. Thousands of students in this state cannot afford to pay for school lunch, and when they cannot pay, they go into debt. At some schools, students with lunch debt are being denied a hot meal. This, in a state that boasts about being one of the most family-friendly in the nation.
I watched the video of that man, and read the story about those students, and wondered: When did we decide to treat others this way?
There are so many days when it feels like I’m cosplaying a version of normal. I take my son to day care. I talk with clients. I like my job. We bike to the playground under blue skies. We hike on a trail behind our house. We spend nights looking up at the moon. (My son is obsessed with the moon lately.) The other day, we saw a moose sitting in our backyard. A moose! Just outside our back door! There are days when being here feels like living in a snow globe — perfect, and untouched by the outside world.
And then I read the news, and the headlines drag me back to life outside this bubble.
What gives me hope is seeing others take action. There are amazing organizations in my community doing things to create change. The Wasatch Immigration Project provides legal services, often for free, to immigrants in our community. The Utah Lunch Debt Relief Foundation team is working to eliminate lunch debt for students in this state. And these organizations haven’t been around forever; one was founded in 2023, and the other in 2024. That’s a reminder that it’s not too late to get involved.
Maybe you can volunteer. Maybe you can give money. Maybe you can organize. Maybe you can run for something.
I want to do more, too.
Our despair should not keep us from action. I keep reminding myself: Everyone needs to do something; whatever you can do is enough.
Over the past year, there are certain things I’ve come to believe hold true. I know that my beliefs will continue to change. I know that I will change.
But here, at 38, is what I believe:
Create a birthday and anniversary calendar, and text your friends on those dates. Add their kids to the calendar, too. It matters more than you know.
Forget about yoga or long baths or walks in the woods. At this age, with a kid and a job that will overwhelm me if I let it, getting good at saying “no” is how I practice self-care.
When our kid gets sick or everything in our lives starts to pile up, my wife will look at me and ask, “Are we in parenting bankruptcy?” That’s when you realize that you can’t take on one more thing, and your only goal is to make it until Friday. You’re not getting work done or finishing that project. You just need to make it to the weekend. Once you’ve declared parenting bankruptcy, you’re free to do as little work as is necessary, and legally allowed to order as much takeout as you want, for the rest of the week.
On a related note: When you’re traveling solo with a kid, you can declare Sky Law as soon as you hit the airport curb. There are no rules with Sky Law, except this: Do what you need to do to make it to the destination. If your kid wants to eat a family-sized box of Cheez-Its and watch 374 consecutive episodes of “Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood,” then Sky Law commands you to do so.
Forget about potty training. I think we’ll throw a party the day my kid learns how to blow his nose.
Every couple needs to know the price point at which it’s OK to make a frivolous purchase at Costco. For us, it’s $40. Anything below that isn’t worth fighting over. (The set of stuffed yetis that sit in our living room cost $38, and it’s the best $38 we’ve ever spent.)
I think my greatest aspiration in life is to live in a home with an outdoor shower. If that sounds ridiculous, well: Take an outdoor shower in the summertime. You’ll understand.
Keep thinking about where you invest your time, your money, your energy, your love. You only have so much to give. Put it in the places that matter most.
The successes and failures you have at your job don’t mean that you are a success or a failure. They’re just stuff that happens at your job.
Set a “fun” goal next year. For me, 2025 was about spending 50 days playing golf or skiing. (I made it to 47.) Did it get me in shape or make money for the business or open new doors for me? Absolutely not. But what’s the point of living in a fun place if you don’t get to enjoy it?
If you want to start a conversation with any parent, anywhere in the world, all you need is one question: “How long did it take you to realize that Bluey was a girl?”
Tip the housekeepers at your hotel. They do a hard (and largely invisible) job. They deserve your generosity.
The internet was amazing — until it wasn’t. Social media was amazing — until it wasn’t. Artificial intelligence, right now, is amazing. I might not know what happens next, but I do know how things come in threes.
And finally: One of the hardest things to do is to keep going when everything is changing around you. I have to remind myself, almost daily: The good, the bad, the-between — it doesn’t last. These are just moments and phases. It won’t be this way forever. Do your best to keep moving forward. Even baby steps are steps are in the right direction.
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That holiday card outtake at top was taken by photographer Lexi Rae. If you do happen to be in the market for family photos here in Utah, she’s fantastic.
