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The Second Why.

One funny thing about becoming a dad is watching how kids start to process the world. What I’ve noticed is that nobody — not even professional reporters — ask as many questions as little kids.

It’s one thing for a parent to get the initial question: “Why’s the sky blue, dad?”

The parent will give the answer. But then they’ll ask a second question: “Why?” And then a third or a fourth why.

It’s funny: In a certain way, kids are often more curious than a lot of the working professionals I know. I’m guilty of this myself: I might ask “why” once to a colleague or client, but if a satisfactory answer is provided, I won’t dig deeper.

And I want to challenge myself to be prepared for that second why. I want to be prepared to know more, to go deeper.

If I’m asked or if I’m not, I should be prepared to defend what I know — or at least be prepared to give more than the surface-level answer.

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That’s a photo of a young girl with brown hair reading, as the pages of a book flip before her. It was taken by Johnny McClung for Unsplash.

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A Year Ago Today.

I’ve been keeping a daily journal for well over a decade now. Every night, I write a little note to myself about what I did that day or what I learned. Often, I’ll go back and look through old entries to remind myself of the progress that I’ve made or the things I’ve done.

But what I didn’t expect about parenting is that my phone’s photo album would be just as powerful of a reminder tool.

I’ll often look back through the archives to see what photos I took a year ago on this date. With a one-year-old, the photos are astonishing — could our son really have been that small a year ago? That bald? Remember that outfit? He used to fit into it all the time! Remember that trip we took? Yeah, that was a year ago today, too.

The time really does go by as quickly as everyone says, and it’s by grounding yourself in these moments from the past that you can appreciate the progress. I know a year from now, I’ll be amazed at the things my son is doing that he couldn’t in the fall of 2024.

Make time to pause and to rewind. We all need those moments to show us how far we’ve come.

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That’s a screenshot of my phone’s photo album. A funny thing happens when you have a kid: You replace lots of photos of food and trips with literally thousands of photos of your kid.

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Use Your Imagination.

I played golf over the weekend at a par 3 course near me. Most par 3 courses are what’s known as a “pitch-and-putt” — you rarely have a shot longer than 100 yards, so each hole involves a fairly short shot and then a putt or two.

This is not that kind of course.

This is a par 3 course that involves shots over long stretches of desert bush and water. The greens are devilishly sloped, and you sometimes have to hit the ball close to 200 yards just to land on the green.

It’s truly not an easy course. I usually shoot a better score on a full-length golf course than I do on this par 3 course.

But one thing I love about it is that it inspires me to try shots I wouldn’t otherwise try. The other day, I ended up literally between a rock and a hard place — there was a boulder 20 feet in front of my ball, with the hole maybe 10 feet beyond that. At first glance, I had no chance to get my chip shot anywhere near the hole.

But then I took another look around the green. Behind the hole was a huge slope that, if I could land my ball on it, would feed the ball back to the hole.

So instead of playing my shot at the hole, I aimed 25 feet past it. My ball landed on the slope and trickled backwards. Maybe 10 seconds later, it stopped less than a foot from the hole.

It’s not a shot I would’ve tried on any normal golf course, but on this one, it made perfect sense.

And I’ll say: It reminded me that sometimes, you need to use your imagination to figure out the right answer. Solutions aren’t always as straightforward as they could be. So look around for alternative paths, even ones that seem a little ridiculous. There are options out there — some good, some bad, some risky — if you know where to look.

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That’s a photo of one hole on the course, which features what’s known as a Biarritz green — basically, imagine a giant halfpipe in the middle of the green. Depending on where the hole is that day, you may need to putt either up or down a slope that’s about five feet high.

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It Takes Longer Than You Think.

Last night, we went down to Sundance to see a few singer-songwriters from Nashville — Trannie Anderson, Josh Jenkins, and Matt Jenkins — perform on stage as part of a series of concerts with Nashville’s famed Bluebird Cafe. Together, the three of them have written songs played by some of the biggest artists in country music: Lainey Wilson, Walker Hayes, Keith Urban.

But as they told stories about their work, one thing came up over and over again: It takes an awful lot of writing songs just to get one song on an album. The Jenkins brothers told a story about writing a song for an artist, who passed on it — before deciding to record it several years later. Anderson told a story about working a job as a dog walker for a famous country musician who ended up recording one of her songs almost a decade later. All of the artists on stage said that they might have to write a 100 or more songs just get one that’s worthy of being recorded. (And there’s still no guarantee that the song will end up on an album!)

Sure, there are overnight success stories out there, but to me, the night was a reminder that it usually takes a lot of work, a lot of patience, and a lot of rejection to get to where you want to go.

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I took that photo during the show. The stage at Sundance is absolutely spectacular — it’s built into the hill, with just a little backlight against the dark night sky. If you get a chance to go there for a concert, you should.

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What Comes First.

I read this line today in a story about Costco founder Sol Price, and I keep thinking about it:

“Everything was about trust. He would rather lose your business than your trust.”

There are things that are more important than making a profit (though Costco certainly does that). I think about this a lot with Inbox Collective — what matters most to me? For my work, it’s about:

• Being willing to listen to readers and serve them.
• Teaching first, and selling second.
• Making sure that everything I put out is something that people can learn from.
• Helping people find joy in their work.

If I take care of my readers, I know the business will flourish in the long run. No matter how the business evolves, I know those core value will remain.

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That photo of a lighted Costco sign in the darkness was taken by Henry & Co for Unsplash.

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Talk It Out.

A few weeks ago, I published a thing on Inbox Collective — a conversation with Claire Zulkey about what she should do with her newsletter. We called it the first in a new series: “Ask a Newsletter Therapist.” It was a bit of a joke — I don’t do what therapists do, but sometimes, everyone needs a professional they can talk to about their problems.

This past week, I’ve had a few more conversations with folks for upcoming editions of the series. And what I tell everyone before the conversation is: I don’t have all the answers. I can’t guarantee that I’m going to suggest something that will help. But even if I don’t, I hope we’ll be able to talk through a few ideas that might get your wheels turning.

It’s great if I can fix something during these calls. But I’m not there just to fix something — I’m there to give these folks a chance to talk stuff out. From time to time, everyone needs someone to talk things through.

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At top, that’s a screenshot of the article I did with Claire.

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We All Have to Make Choices.

My son is a year old, and lately, I’ve been turning down a ton of work opportunities — stuff I would’ve jumped at just two years ago — because I don’t want to miss a moment with him. There are all these projects and speaking gigs I would love to be able to do, but I’m still saying no. I want to be home and be present with my family.

I’ll confess that I do sometimes feel a sort of nostalgia for the pre-dad version of myself that could’ve taken on more of this work. Before kids, I could say yes to anything. (“A series of workshops with a newsroom in Australia that can only talk at 11 p.m. Eastern every week? Let’s do it!“) But for me, everything comes back to a simple thing: I really like my job, but I absolutely love my son and my wife. If I’ve got a choice between something I like and something I love, that’s an easy choice to make.

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That’s Ben and I, taking a break from a hectic weekend morning of playing with literally every toy in the basement so we can watch “Ms. Rachel” together.

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Keep Coming Back to Your Lists.

I have all sorts of to-do lists. I’ve got a list of ideas — “somedays,” I call them — that I want to try. I’ve got notes written down on yellow legal pads and in various Google Docs. I know I won’t act on many of these ideas.

I never worry about running out of ideas, but I know that sometimes, I forget about a really good idea. So it’s helpful to keep coming back to these lists to look through things. What am I still excited about? What could I work on as part of another project? Often, I find a chestnut in one of these docs — but I have to make sure to make time to review and give each of the ideas some thought. I don’t want to let anything slip through the cracks.

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That photo of a small notepad and wooden pencil on top of a wood table, was taken by Michaela St for Unsplash.

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Spinning in Circles.

My son has this funny habit. We’ll take him upstairs to the hallway in front of his room. There will be a few doors open: One to his room, one to the guest bathroom, and one to the guest bedroom. Ben will start to crawl towards one room — but then pause, and spin towards another, and the pause, and spin towards a third. Sometimes, he’ll spin in a circle, for an entire minute or two, unsure what room to crawl towards. There are just too many choices!

And I get it! I often do this myself. I’ll have one too many choices, and instead of just making a choice, I spin my wheels and end up going nowhere.

But the next time I find myself doing that, I’ll try to think about Ben moving in circles. When he does, I try to give him a little pat on the butt to nudge him forward. It doesn’t really matter what choice he makes — he just needs to make one. I need to remember to do the same.

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That photo is from Joel Fulgencio for Unsplash, and it’s of a series of blue walls, with holes cut in the middle, that are in Hong Kong on top of a parking garage. It reminds me a little of when you’re standing between two mirrors, and the reflections seem to go on forever.

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What Are You Going to Do About That Mistake?

I screwed something up today.

My son had an important doctor’s appointment today in Salt Lake City. It was an appointment with a specialist who’s tough to get time with. We booked the appointment a few months ago.

And today, I showed up to the appointment — and found out I was two hours late. We’d put the wrong time on the calendar, and the next available appointment isn’t for a few more months.

I wanted to scream, cry, and crawl under a rock. (Ideally, all three at the same time.)

But anytime something like this happens, I try to figure out a plan to make sure it doesn’t happen again.

So for big appointments like this, I’m putting a few new rules in place. I’ll double-check the appointment time against texts or emails the doctor’s office might send. If they don’t send that, I’ll call the office directly to confirm the time. And you better believe that for something like this that requires a drive, I’ll be checking Google Maps the night before to make sure I get to the appointment on time.

Mistakes happen, and that’s OK. But if you do make a mistake, figure out the processes you can put in place to prevent them — as best you can — going forward.

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That’s a photo of the sunset over the hospital down in Salt Lake, with the mountains in the background. Honestly, it might have the prettiest view of any hospital I’ve ever seen.

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