She yells back, “Don’t put it out with your boots, Ted!” (Obviously, this has happened a lot before). He shouts back, “Don’t tell me my business, devil woman,” and starts stomping it out while Billy and his friends hide in the bushes, watching the whole thing unfold.

The old man stomps all over the fire, takes a big whiff, and examines his boots.

“Poop again?!”

I can’t deny how deeply divided we are as a nation right now. It’s tough to even breathe deeply when it feels like a simple comment about favorite ice cream flavors, like Peanut Butter Chocolate, would spark an immediate and heated debate, with people shouting, “America hater! Rocky Road is the only ice cream that cares about democracy and the Constitution.”

I feel like everybody has multiple flaming bags showing up on their social media porches throughout the day. We wake up to the blaze, knowing full well that inside is yet another fresh pile of dog poo. “Don’t tell me my business!” We shout to that inner voice of ours as we proceed to stomp out each flame and then get even more angry when the result seems to be what we already knew was going to happen.

“Poop again?!”

Are we surprised? Of course not. Do you feel a little better? Probably a touch, but now you smell like literal feces. Again.

It’s really wearing us down to see media pundits, politicians, and even our own loved ones shouting at each other, trying to figure out who’s leaving these messes on our porches. It feels like most people have just started throwing insults at those they disagree with, leaving out the real issues. I’m worried we’re stuck in a crazy situation where we both feel like daily victims, with piles of metaphorical poop heaped on us that feel very personal and targeted. Yet, we also seem to be happy to throw our own insults onto the porches of those we think are in the wrong.

What really bothers me is that all this “poop slinging” is happening while people claim to be on the side that “truly cares” about patriotism, America, Christianity, or the Constitution.

A really clear moment when this was obvious was the January 6th attack on the U.S. Capitol. People were literally throwing poop onto walls, claiming it was to defend patriotism. Our family was so embarrassed as we watched these acts and wanted to help clean up, but we didn’t know what to do.

As a family, we wrote thank-you notes to the Capitol janitors, engineers, and facility managers. We knew that no matter where they stood on politics, these individuals would be cleaning up after that act and it had to have been really tough and disheartening.

A few weeks later, we got a letter back. Every time I read it, I feel so emotional. It’s precious to me, and I’m grateful for the reply. It’s a symbol of patriotism in my heart.

Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood was a weekly staple in my childhood, and he always reminded us to “look for the helpers” during tough times. This simple message still comforts me, showing that even when things are tough, there are always people ready to lend a hand. Our hearts went out to the Capitol building staff, who had the difficult task of cleaning up the mess left behind by the attackers. These were helpers.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that in our current divided society, we’re often caught in the middle, like Billy Madison and old-man Ted. We’re throwing things at people we think will help to “wake them up to my side” yet also getting frustrated that we’ve somehow been targeted by someone else’s mess and not understanding why anyone would keep doing this to me. But underneath all this chaos, there’s a huge group of helpers.

“Look for the helpers.”

Even better, join the helpers!

The Capitol reply letter really hits home for me because it embodies true American patriotism in my opinion. For me, patriotism has never been about political parties, ideologies, presidents, armies, or policies. In fact, I find patriotism clearly and simply stated in the very first phrase of our nation’s founding document:

WE THE PEOPLE

Helpers help people. All people!

Seek first to understand before being understood.

It will be near impossible to reduce this division until we each choose to help clean up the mess rather than add to it. Throwing a flaming bag on any porch only makes you look more idiotic and juvenile. Forcefully stomping a boot on the bag on your porch only smears the crap further. Seek to help the people around you instead of trying to change them. That is patriotic. That is the American. That is Christian. And that is Constitutional.

“Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

Hello 2026.

I started reminiscing that as a teen growing up in the 90s, I used to love the old Conan O’Brien sketches where he would slap on a black robe and make wild predictions about what would happen in the year 2000. The year 2000! That seemed so far into the future at the time, and now that was more than 2 decades ago!

Remember Y2K?! All of our computers were supposed to blow up while airplanes fell from the sky. Yeah, that was 25 years ago!! Y2K clearly didn’t pan out the way we predicted, but computers and AI are certainly front and center in our lives right now. Something that does feel like it definitely could have been part of Conan’s predictions is the official/unofficial benchmark being used to gauge generative AI’s progress; the Will Smith spaghetti test.

In 2023, an AI-generated video was created of Will Smith plowing through a plate of spaghetti. It is definitely odd and somewhat unsettling. For whatever reason, that prompt is the one that is regularly being regenerated and used to show off how well AI is improving. Recent versions of the clip certainly are more impressive and look a lot more like a real Will Smith eating a real bowl of spaghetti. Yet, something continues to feel…off.

Generative AI continues to improve at an astonishing and scary rate, yet there are still a few giveaways that remind us an image, video, or essay was AI-created. An overuse of certain punctuation marks (particularly dashes) or music that still doesn’t quite follow typical lyrical or rhythmic patterns are common AI indicators. However, there is one element that still proves very difficult for AI to create: human hands. AI-generated hands frequently have added fingers, impossible joints, or they just blend into a blur completely. Even on the recent Will Smith tests, his hands eerily mix into the spaghetti and look quite rubbery.

I find it fascinating and significant that AI struggles with generating human hands. As I’m writing this, there are fields of data servers burning an insane amount of energy to perfect human hands generation and an equally insane amount of influencers, developers, and other people eagerly waiting and ready to generate and post the next Will Smith spaghetti video to show off just how amazing, crazy, or realistic things are looking now. Yet, I’m worried that in the hunt for perfectly generated AI hands, we are rapidly losing the beauty that comes from imperfect creations that our real hands are able to develop.

You might enjoy the documentary “Sound City,” which offers a fascinating look at the iconic studio that once recorded legendary albums by bands like Fleetwood Mac, Beastie Boys, and Heart. Nirvana’s Nevermind album was also recorded there. The studio was famous for its large analog deck and recording space, which captured unique tones and sounds. As music production moved more towards digital tools, studios like Sound City became less common and started to close. Dave Grohl, the drummer for Nirvana and frontman for Foo Fighters, loved the human touch of tape recording. The documentary follows his journey to buy the Sound City deck to keep it alive and use it to record new albums. He believes that the small imperfections in that style of recording remind us that a real person was on the other end of the drumsticks.

It’s tricky, right? Digital generation tools allow an 8-year-old to crack open GarageBand on an iPad, splice a couple of tracks together, and let the AI master and equalize a pretty solid-sounding tune. With a few quick prompts and 30 seconds of spare time, anybody can plop down on the couch and produce a convincing 2-minute animated video. Is that really the worst thing ever? Isn’t it great that we have access to tools and methods to easily create so much content? I suppose I’m just worried that we’re allowing digital assistants to be such a great part of that creation, that we’re starting to lose the power of the process along the way.

As I look ahead to 2026, I’m struck by the idea that there are still some things that only human hands can do, things that AI just can’t replicate. Will I focus on helping AI improve human hands by feeding it data, or will I use the truly physical hands I already have more intentionally? The human experience is all about its unique imperfections. I much prefer seeing a brushstroke that’s a little off, hearing a singer’s voice that cracks for a moment, or getting a text that feels like it was truly written by the sender themselves, rather than being overwhelmed by the flawless perfection that deep AI integration promises.

So, my New Year’s resolution is pretty straightforward: I’m ready to get creative, serve others, work hard, and connect with people in ways that go beyond just tapping away on a screen. I dare AI to try and keep up! These hands of mine are unique and impossible to copy.

Breakfast typically involves walking to a favorite boulangerie or cafe and enjoying a fresh croissant, pan au chocolat, or baguette with a small drink. Boulangeries usually open around 7am (always depends on when the owner feels ready to open) and residents form rapid queues as fresh breads begin to pour out of the kitchen. Food is never eaten “on the go” or while walking. Rather, patrons either find a small table to sit and socialize while they enjoy the hot pastries or take them home to share with family members. It’s a sacred ritual that I have been more than happy to acclimatize into.

Now, let me introduce you to Maria.

Maria runs the boulangerie down the street from our apartment here in Lyon. She doesn’t speak a word of English, but we discovered that she is fluent in Spanish which has made it much easier for me to communicate with her as my French is still pretty rusty. Every morning she happily welcomes each and every visitor to her store with a smiling “bonjour!” (or in our case now, “buenos días!”) She takes her time to chat with each person as she fills their bags with fresh bread. Not a single person waiting in line is bothered by the slow pace or socialization as they patiently wait for their turn to order.

We now find ourselves at Maria’s shop most mornings as well. She happily chats with us in both French and Spanish and we find she likes to sneak a bonus croissant or two into our bag when she knows we may have guests visiting or the kids are in tow. She is a joyful and very welcome part of our mornings.

You may have also noticed that big pile of baguettes behind us in the picture. Let’s take a minute to talk about baguette. Remember that scene in Star Wars: The Force Awakens when Rey asks Han Solo, “The Jedi were real?” Han looks at her and replies, “I used to wonder about that myself. Thought it was all a bunch of mumbo-jumbo…Crazy thing is, it’s true…All of it. It’s all true.”

The same can be said for French baguette.

I know I first came into France with a preconceived stereotype that French people walked around all day with a baguette under their arm or in their bicycle basket while they rode through the park in a sundress. Here’s the thing; it’s true. All of it. It’s all true.

Baguettes are a magical item. They are eaten hot and fresh out of the oven for breakfast. Grab a few extra loaves, some ham, sliced cheese, and salty butter and you have a simple yet extremely satisfying lunch option. Need an afternoon snack? Simple. Cut open the little bit of baguette that remains after lunch, a little spread of that same salty butter and a square of dark chocolate and you just made a goûter. A delicious mix of sweet and salty that takes the edge off before dinner kicks off at 9pm. Baguettes are used for seemingly everything and they must be purchased fresh because they do go stale very quickly. That is why people are seen constantly walking around with a few loaves under their arm. You literally have to buy them every day and sometimes even multiple times a day. You may think that sounds like an absolutely annoyance, but the people here truly do not see it as an inconvenience. It is always an opportunity to get some amazing bread while at the same time having a brief moment to get out in the sunshine and to socialize.

But one of my favorite discoveries is what happens with the stale or discarded baguette. At my office we have a bin to collect all of the uneaten baguette (because yes, it is served with every meal). If you didn’t end up finishing your little piece of bread, you need to toss it into the bread collection bin instead of the trash. These discards are then sent to local farms to grind into animal feed for the local farms.

Baguette that goes stale at home isn’t thrown into the trash either. Instead, you dunk it into a mixture of egg, milk, and cinnamon and grill it up in a frying pan. That’s right! French toast! I think I always kind of knew that, but I’m in love with a little bit of new knowledge the French have taught me. First of all, nobody here calls it French toast. That is 100% an American thing. Kind of like how we call the stuff on pizza Canadian bacon. Go ask any Canadian what Canadian bacon is and they will look at you like you are crazy. They just call it what it is; ham! Why do we call it Canadian bacon? Who knows. French toast? French fries? I have no clue. I guess at least French toast comes from France, so there is that. (Remember too that for a hot minute there was that whole ‘Freedom fries’ movement? Yeah, I don’t know. I’m still confused.)

Anyways, the French do not nor have they ever called this bread, egg, and milk concoction ‘French toast’. They call it pain perdu (pronounced pawn perdue). This literally translates to ‘lost bread’. How great is that?! We invited a few of the French interns from my company out to dinner with our family one night and they happily explained pain perdu to us saying, “we give the baguette new life. Plus, it’s delicious.”

I was honestly struck with the simple beauty of this concept and description. Lost bread. What a fabulous way to describe the dish. I immediately thought about Maria and the love she puts into every single loaf of baguette and the attention she gives to every single patron of her shop. I thought about the role this simple loaf of bread in literally every single meal throughout the day and the energy people expend to carry loaves with them to their homes. I thought about the care all of my co-workers take to separate the bread discards from their trays so that it continues to provide life to others. The loaves carry such value despite their very low cost. Why would you ever let something like that be wasted or simply thrown away?

I don’t exactly know why, but these thoughts ruminated with me for a day or two and I couldn’t help but make a connection to a few scriptures that bounced around in my brain.

Bread is a very common theme throughout Christian doctrine. Christ’s ultimate sacrifice for us is even symbolized with bread. I think at the end of the day I was simply struck with the realization that to the people here, there is a very literal bread that is vital to their day to day interactions. It feeds and sustains but it also acts as a catalyst to engage with and communicate with others. Alton Brown once said that if you want to break down barriers with those you disagree with, sit down and break bread with them first. This literal bread is also so important to the culture that it is given a second life which is memorialized in its name. Lost bread.

When I reflect on the words of Christ speaking about eating bread in heaven or being blessed with daily bread, of course He’s not speaking about literal bread. But I also don’t think He is talking about necessarily our own individual spiritual feeding. Those scriptures now make me think how blessed I am to interact with people like Maria on a daily basis. I think about how grateful my family is as we gather around a meal that each family member literally carried a portion of for blocks before we got to enjoy it. I think of how grateful I am that every single one of us has the daily ability to be our own lost bread. How often we mess up or do stupid things, but there is always hope that with a simple mixture of egg, milk, and cinnamon, we can always hope for a better tomorrow. Heaven is not us simply being sustained in a vacuum. It is us interacting with, sustaining, and sharing with others.

So, do we carry a baguette with us everywhere we go?

Yes. It’s true.

All of it.

Enjoyed this post? Buy me a coffee.

I’ve also done a lot of genealogical work on my own family tree and there is one particular branch that is totally nuts, very scandalous, and quite frankly, the kind of story that could absolutely find itself on an episode of a completely different kind of series; Drunk History.

This is a story of murder, fortunate coincidences, and one family’s fight for freedom of speech.

Plus, the Mayflower nearly blows up!!!

Ok, Dear Reader. This is the brief story about my ancestor, the first convicted felon ever in colonized America; John Billington.

The Mayflower set sail with 102 passengers from England headed towards the New World in 1620. About a third of the passengers claimed to be Separatists and were trying to get away from the persecuting rule of the Church of England. Others, known by the religious Pilgrims as “Strangers”, were onboard only with simple hopes of carving out a better life for themselves.

John Billington, his wife Elinor, and their two sons, John and Francis were part of that group of “Strangers”. Little is known about John Billington's life in England, but he quickly made himself known as a bit of a troublemaker whilst voyaging across the Atlantic on the Mayflower. A mutiny broke out near the end of the 10-week voyage and soon-to-be-named Plymouth Governor William Bradford wrote that several strangers made “discontented” and “mutinous speeches”.

Yup, you guessed it. John was at the head of that mutiny. Why mutiny on the very boat taking you to eventual freedom? Well, you may remember a little something called the Mayflower Compact from your days in high school history class. Basically the Compact was an agreement drafted up to establish a very rudimentary form of government for the settlement that would be established upon their disembarking in the New World. John was not such a fan of the agreement because he and several more of these “Strangers” felt it still pledged too much loyalty to the King of England and forced people to live under very strict Pilgrim rules.

The mutiny was obviously prevented and those involved were heavily punished. The Mayflower Compact was ultimately only signed by 41 of the passengers before disembarking into Plymouth. John did however end up signing it as a sign of good faith despite his distaste for it.

Remember how I said John became known as a bit of a troublemaker? Turns out his entire family carried the same infamy. While the Mayflower was anchored off the shore of Cape Cod, John’s 14-year-old son Francis (the son that my bloodline goes through) got a little bored and thought he’d have a little fun onboard. He made some makeshift dynamite and began firing his musket at it as a game. He was quickly stopped by some colonists though before he NEARLY BLEW UP THE MAYFLOWER! Can you imagine? This may have resulted in some space time continuum altering event and somehow our present now has clouds that rain bananas on Mondays. Who knows? Ha!

Fortunately, he made up for this irresponsible act in a a very coincidentally big way. He went off exploring, after what I’m sure was the punishment of a lifetime, and climbed a tall tree. He spotted a body of water that he thought was perhaps the Pacific Ocean (again, remember he is a 14-year-old). He rushed to the water with another crew mate and they discovered what is the now-named Billington Sea which ended up being a vital body of water for the Pilgrims.

John Billington Jr. also got into some trouble. It is recorded that in 1621 he got lost in the woods for several days only to be later returned home by the Native American tribe, the Nauset. This coincidentally ended up helping with initial conversations between the colonists and the tribe.

But the icing on the cake began to bubble up in March 1621 when John Billington Sr. refused Myles Standish’s orders to perform military duty in the colony. Standish was the colony’s military officer and advisor and John was still not 100% behind the idea of serving under the orders of the Mayflower Compact. John challenged this military order with “several speeches” and ended up being held “in contempt of the Captain’s lawful command”. He was then tied up by his neck and heels as public punishment. Pilgrims described the act as “the first offense since arrival” thereby making Billington the first to commit a crime in the New World.

But it does get worse.

In 1624, Billington was implicated, though never convicted of helping out with something called the Oldham-Lyford Scandal. This was a small revolt of a few men against the strict rule of the Plymouth church.

In 1630, John Billington ends up ending a years-long quarrel with fellow colony member, John Newcomen by shooting and killing him. The Plymouth Colony sentences John to death by hanging on September 30, 1630. Governor Bradford writes, “This as it was the first execution amongst [the colonists]. So was it a matter of great sadness unto them”. Yes, John Billington is remembered by history as the first convicted murderer in America. His wife Elinor suffers a similarly sad fate as she is sentenced to the stocks and whipped to death in 1636 for slander.

It’s kind of a wacky story right? And like the people who learn about their ancestors on Who Do You Think You Are I have so many mixed thoughts and feelings about my ancestor. I certainly can’t say I’m totally proud of the mutiny, murder, and seemingly dunderheaded stuff. Yet, there are many modern historians who come to John’s defense saying that “he was first and foremost a “Stranger” on the Mayflower. Even though he signed the Mayflower Compact, he was still seen as a “Stranger” which prevented him from holding public office and gave him only the smallest tract of land in the colony.”

John would often speak out against the Pilgrims seeming continued loyalty to England and also against their very strict rule of law. Some historians quickly point out “[he]stoutly supported individual independence and freedom of speech, raising the voice of opposition when he disagreed with the rule of government”. So vocal was Billington that Governor Bradford wrote a letter back to England telling Robert Cushman (an important organizer of the Mayflower voyage) “Billington still rails against you…he is a knave, and so will live and die”.

So there you have it. This family of troublemakers hanging way out there on a twisted, gnarled branch on my family tree. At the very least I hope this inspires you to do some more digging of your own into your family’s past. I absolutely love the movie Coco and its message of remembering your ancestors to keep their spirits alive. Our ancestors plead with us to remember them and learn about them.

John, you’ve got a wild tale my man. I’m not 100% sure what drove your motivations or actions. I don’t totally know if you were a troublemaker, a rebel, an activist, or simply a dad trying his best to find a better life for your family.

But I see you.

One day it’ll be pretty interesting to hear your side of this whole story.

Next up though, I need to learn more about Thankful Washburn! That name is just begging to be researched!

On the weekends I walk over to the closest grocery store to my flat and stock up on some deliciousness. Amazing cheeses, breads, and fresh produce beckon with every single visit. Fortunately all of the walking acts as a good countermeasure and I’ve continued to hit my weight loss goals despite this cornucopia of flavor. Phew.

Most people interestingly enough assume I am British rather than American. They are typically more than happy to test out some English on me while I continue to practice my French which is very helpful. On the walk over to the grocery I pass by my favorite storefront I’ve found so far; a cat hotel called La Maison Des Ronrons. This translates to House of Purrs.

Brilliant!

Do I stop to watch the cats play in the window?

Every time.

Now let’s get back to the French workplace. There is one element of each workday that I absolutely love; lunchtime. And it’s not because of the food necessarily. A typical workday looks something like this: people shuffle in and spend the first 30 minutes of the day socializing over coffee or cocoa. Then, it’s off to focus and get a bunch of work done. Promptly at 12:00, one or two people close up their computers and start rounding up everyone else to head to lunch. Happily, people stop whatever they are working on, hang up their phones, and join the herd to head to the cafeteria.

People don’t leave for lunch. I’ve never seen cafeterias so completely full of professionals every single day! There is no soda machine or single serve drinks. Instead, one or two people at each table gather a pitcher of water and pour it for everyone around them. Phones never come out of pockets and nobody initiates work conversations. It really is something when you watch the VP of a department laugh and socialize as they pour water for the intern sitting next to them. Every. Single. Day. No-one seems to be too busy or too important to join the meal and nobody leaves the table until it is clear that at least 3 or 4 others have finished off their plate. Then, it’s off for another coffee or cocoa, a bit more socializing, and then back to work.

My love language is very much Quality Time and I am indulging in these lunchtime moments. If there is anything I would hope to bring back from this experience to my daily routine in the U.S. it is this element of the French workday. Whenever and wherever I travel, one of my primary missions is to find a place to eat with the locals. I don’t want the highest rated tourist stop on Yelp or the place closest to the hotel. I want the place where the cab driver goes after a long day. I want the place where people are going to look at you funny at first because they’ve never seen an American before. Not only that; I prefer a seat where I can interact with the people, talk to them, and let them pick my meal off the menu for me. I love that the work culture here is to stop whatever it is you may be busy with and take a minute to recognize the people that surround you.

Anthony Bourdain, a hero of mine, once said:

If you want to get to know someone, go and break bread with them. I firmly believe that a meal shared is one of the richest experiences a person can have with another. I think that an even worse result than obesity caused by the American fast food epidemic is instead that it has robbed us of these slowed down, shared moments to truly converse with each other. I think about how frequently I have eaten a rushed meal, grabbed drive-through by myself in between meetings, or tried to sneak in brief conversation during a meal whilst my table mates constantly checked their phones to not miss something seemingly “more important” than the moment we were sharing. And all for what? Convenience?

Want to tear down some walls between someone who is or thinks very differently than you? Make them a meal. Or, let them make you a meal. Then sit and talk about your day with them. I find food to be the great unifier. Food is life-giving, memory making, and requires sacrifice by the preparer and trust from the receiver.

Yes, I am one of those people that cry watching Ratatouille.

I’ve been grateful to have this noon hour each day here in France to get to know a very wide variety of people. To listen to what motivates them, what scares them, and what makes them laugh has been extremely fulfilling for me.

And yes, it does help that the food is also delicious.

“But isn’t Spanish like, way easier?” One friend asked.

“I agree with Dustin. I think more girls are going to be impressed with French.” Another quickly retorts.

An inspired episode of the TV show Futurama titled I Dated A Robot points out in a public service video designed to scare kids into maintaining human to human relationships:

Us signing up for the French class pathway in high school validated this.

I made it through all four full years of high school French classes with only really three things that managed to stick with me to this very day. One, I still can (and will) loudly sing all of the lyrics to Les Champs-Elysees.

Two, my vocabulary is limited to what you would expect from a teenager who has only ever taken high school French.

And three, speaking high school French never secured any of us with a single date. (I did however land many dates with guitar playing skills. Take note teens.)

A few years after high school I served a volunteer mission which took me to Santiago, Chile for two years. I was assigned the location and had no say in the matter, but I did make sure to indicate my French “expertise” on the application. Being fully immersed in Chilean culture for years completely flushed all of the French out of my brain as it made room for my new Spanish proficiency. (Another side note; I discovered it is actually second language fluency that gets you dates. Take note teens.)

Two years after my wife Riley and I were married, I began working as an Account Manager for a French owned biotech company. I was drawn to the position because of the scientific elements it provided. I had a molecular and microbiology education and I was going to be able to work from home and do a lot of travel around the U.S. The French element was not really a draw for me, but the slightest prospect of possibly being able to visit the headquarters in France one day seemed pretty cool.

I worked for the company for a good 8 or 9 years before I was ever able to make it out to France for the first time. On a subsequent work related trip, our youngest daughter was able to tag along with us despite being only a few months old.

Fast forward to roughly 5 months ago. An opportunity came across my desk to help my company out with a temporary assignment at our primary headquarters in Lyon, France. Throughout our marriage Riley and I have often talked about how amazing it would be to have an experience living and working abroad, especially if it could involve the kids. We’ve always felt there is something truly healthy about getting outside of your comfort zone and culture bubble. So, when this opportunity was presented to me, the decision was simple and quick. I would come to work in France for a period with my family being fully invited to join me. Due to the logistics of some very big events in our kids’ lives right now (like our oldest heading out on a volunteer mission of his own and our second son graduating high school) we made the decision for me to come out first for a few months and the rest of the family will come out in the summer. The assignment would then wrap up by the end of August.

So there you have it. Walker Family Adventure 2025! I’ve been in Lyon for a week already and properly set up in a flat downtown.

And what’s it like working and interacting with only French colleagues so far? Well, I’ve exhausted my high school vocabulary already, but my co-workers are all very eager and happy to help fine tune my accent and conversation skills. The cafe at our office is incredible and full of a variety of amazing dishes and cheeses.

And yes, I have already initiated a group sing along of Les Champs-Elysees. Everyone happily joined in.

Très magnifique.

I’ll just go ahead and point out the potentially-not-so-obvious fact that one of us has clearly been blessed with a superior combination of cytosine, guanine, adenine, and thymine. (I won’t put up a side-by-side picture of us because I’m don't want Jason to feel inadequate) Jason and I both recently celebrated a birthday on August 1st and I have to admit that my fellow Leo is giving me a bit of FOMO. It actually has nothing to do with outward physical appearance but rather energy.

When I rolled into my late thirties I began drifting into a physicality that felt extremely limiting. For at least the last decade I have tried to eat fairly healthy and keep to a pretty consistent fitness regimen, yet I was frustrated to see fat pounds stack on. I’m 100% certain it’s a frustration most of us deal with as we age. Other complications arose that doctors confirmed were likely linked to my being outside of an ideal weight. These included things like hyperhidrosis (extreme and sudden sweating), gout flare ups (a kingly disorder), and sleep apnea (hooray for snoring!). I put a lot of focus and worry on changing the number on the bathroom scale but ultimately ended up even more frustrated as it seemed to go in the upwards direction.

I finally had a good chat with my nutritionist, cardiologist, endocrinologist, and gastroenterologist about my frustrations. Rounds of bloodwork and other tests showed that I was actually in quite good health otherwise. I was just holding on to a lot of chub around my waist due to some unknown reason genetics.

After a few more chats, this team of doctors had a collective idea; stop focusing on losing weight and start focusing on streamlining and utilizing energy.

Let’s take a moment for a brief biology lesson. When we eat any kind of food, that food is converted into glucose to be used by our body for fuel. Cells absorb the glucose out of our bloodstream to use what they need to be all powered up and function properly. Too much glucose in the system gets stored as fat in the liver, muscles, and fat cells to be used later in case of emergency. Too little glucose in the system gets pulled from those very same emergency stores. The pancreas helps regulate the whole process by creating insulin to open and close the door as needed. Glucose levels in the blood spike whenever we eat anything but it really spikes if we eat something that is particularly loaded with sugar or carbohydrates. These large spikes freak the system out a bit and can even mess up the pancreas enough that it causes things like diabetes.

This is the part where Jason Momoa comes in.

Fortunately I am not diabetic or even pre-diabetic, but the doctors suggested the use of a continuous glucose monitor (CGM) as a way to see how my body reacts to certain physical activities and foods. The idea is simple; see which foods cause the biggest spikes and eliminate or reduce them. See when spikes happen and use physical activity as a way to blunt the spike. When spikes are happening, our bodies are basically just freaking out and storing that energy as fat. If instead the spike can be blunted with activity, we push the glucose into cellular energy instead. My mindset was changed. Where I used to see fat on my body I now see untapped energy. Over the last several years I’ve been frustrated in the moments I chose to not jump in the pool, run with my kids, or allow myself to do what I really wanted to do because I knew I was going to sweat, feel slow, or ache afterwards. My inner Leo has not been happy with this.

Jason Momoa is one year younger than I am and is bringing big Leo energy. I’ve allowed a poor self-image to take over and I’ve approached physical activity as a chore and as a means to lose weight rather than a joy and something that I am capable of doing. Well I’m done with “dieting” and Ozempic to me is literally only an absolute last resort. My doctors reminded me that our bodies are amazing machines and mine has simply been perfectly doing what it needed to do in response to what I was doing with it.

This post is the first in a series that I will be using to journal my journey. I am committed to focusing on the things that I have absolute control over rather than simply worrying about what a scale says. I’m opening up this Leo season by tracking four pillars; nutrition (tracked using a CGM), sleep, mindfulness, and movement. I’m ready to use up the energy that’s been sitting in storage for too long now.

Yes, Jason Momoa is an absolute caricature of Big Leo Energy and brings way more to the table than I would ever be able to dish out, but I’m honored to share a day with him.

Hauʻoli lā hānau kaikaina.

My fellow Gen Xers have drawn this image in a notebook.

Fourteen simple lines is all it takes to create this wonderfully pointy ‘S’ complete with 2-fold rotational symmetry. I honestly haven’t thought much about this doodle since the 1990’s when I used to draw it routinely when class got boring. Yet my wife and I recently found ourselves reminiscing about the image while on a date with some friends. I thought it was fascinating that we both had such fond memories of drawing it and seeing it everywhere. We even had the same name for it; the ‘Stüssy S’.

I’m sure many Gen Xers called it the ‘Stüssy S’ over the years, however the Stüssy brand never created this image and has repeatedly denied any connection to it. It seemingly just popped up at some point in the 1970’s and gained peak popularity in the mid 90’s. It has officially been named the ‘Cool S’, but also answers to ‘Universal S’ or ‘Graffiti S’. But where did it come from? What is its origin story? How is it I, who grew up in the West, and my wife, who was raised in the East, both had very fond memories of this doodle and even called it the same inaccurate name?

The reality is that it is simply a complete mystery. Sociologists have done years of research trying to understand where this particular image came from and how it became so ubiquitous. Yet all the research only points to one specific mode of transmission; childlore.

How is it that we all grew up knowing the Batman version of Jingle Bells? “Jingle Bells. Batman smells. Robin laid an egg.” Where did you learn that? It likely wasn’t from TV or some advertisement. It most certainly wasn’t from your parents.

It was learned on the playground.

The passing of tales, knowledge, wisdom, and even doodles from one child to another is what experts call childlore. The Cool S was likely passed to you in the same way. You were taught it by a friend who learned it from another friend and then you likely shared it with even another kid. Part of what gave the Cool S such staying power was that it was easy to draw yet gave the illusion of complexity and artistic talent. The Batman Jingle Bells song may have been just as ubiquitous but it was only good for a laugh. The Cool S gave you some street cred with its hard edges and graffiti vibes.

I think what fascinates me most about this particular icon is that it gained such popularity without the use of any form of technology. It was completely passed from person to person through face to face interactions. Even without cell phones this icon managed to gain popularity across the entire globe. That’s incredible! Sure a TikTok dance can go viral within seconds or a new slang term suddenly takes over every middle schooler’s vernacular on the daily, but that is because images and information are shared globally in the blink of an eye. Every second, billions of kids can watch the exact same post and emulate it immediately. But will we ever see something like the Cool S ever again? Will there ever be a fad that spans multiple decades and works its way onto every notebook across the world for generations?

Here comes my we-didn’t-have-all-of-this-newfangled-technology-back-when-I-was-a-kid moment. I promise to be brief.

In a time when our digital tools have made it easier than ever to communicate with others, have we lost the staying power of face to face interactions in favor of convenience? Is there any danger in trends, phrases, and culture changing almost daily? Would the Cool S have this same level of staying power if it were instead shared over TikTok when it was first imagined? Does it even matter?

I do feel there is something oddly unifying and powerful through playground interactions or, as they might be seen in the workplace, “water cooler” discussions. Even if those interactions are as simple as a DC Comics rewording of a familiar Christmas song or a doodle shared by Trapper Keepers around the world, there is value.

Oh, and in case you were wondering; the Cool S was ultimately trademarked in 2020 by Mark May who claims to have only done it as a way “to preserve it” and “truly revel in its irreverence.”

I know you are already trying to find some paper so you can draw one again.

Despite my shallow exposure to the Potterverse, I still enjoyed and got sucked into elements of the fandom. My wife on the other hand has read every book multiple times and will be my phone-a-friend if I ever find myself in a million dollar Harry Potter Trivia Game situation. Naturally we had to get sorted into our houses when the Pottermore (now Wizarding World) website first opened up.

My wife? Gryffindor! This tracks. She is determined, brave, and carries all of the traits that qualify only the truest of heroes.

Me?

Slytherin.

“Wait. I’m not a villain right?” I immediately asked my wife. I thought my outgoing social drive, happy demeanor, and quick wit would have pushed me more towards Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. Just say Hufflepuff over and over again. It’s hilarious! But Slytherin? They’re supposed to be cunning and prideful right? Didn’t really seem like me. I dismissed the sorting as pure hokum and decided to not read too much into it as one shouldn’t read too much into their horoscope.

But, like reading too much into one’s horoscope, I read too much into my house.

I honestly didn’t think about it that much until we took a family trip to Orlando to visit The Wizarding World at Universal Studios. Each of us repped our house T-shirt for the length of the trip; two Gryffindors, two Hufflepuffs, one Ravenclaw, and one Slytherin. As we stood in the ride queues I found myself increasingly judgmental of the tone of voice used to describe Slytherin.

“Join us on this journey!” the animatronics would proudly boom. “Will you rise up and be brave like Gryffindor? Smart like Ravenclaw? Friendly like Hufflepuff? Or will you be cunning (the tone of voice turns suddenly more evil) like Slytherin?”

There was an edge to the voice every time the word ‘Slytherin’ was uttered throughout the park; a reminder that they we are the house you don’t want to get wrapped up with.

Was I reading too much into this because I felt exposed standing there in my green T-shirt representing the house that I didn’t choose but rather chose me? Or am I hearing that tone of voice because I secretly want to be the bad guy? Maybe it’s just cool to be different. The renegade. Other green-clad park visitors offered knowing nods as we passed each other. It seemingly confirmed that we were all experiencing some profound internal turmoil as we wrestled with the realities of being labeled the villains of this world. Either that or they drank one too many butter beers and there was an ever more present, even more real turmoil brewing.

I began defending Slytherin to friends and family as we talked about our experience in the park. “Slytherin only seems like the villain because they’ve been pushed into it.” I would proclaim. “Every other house has been conditioned to hate them. If everyone uses a sinister voice when they say ‘Slytherin’ then of course they are going to seem inherently evil. I mean, a Slytherin student breaks a rule and the whole house is big time punished. Harry breaks every rule and everyone is like, ‘two billion points to Gryffindor!’ Sure. Draco is a punk, but isn’t Snape the real hero of the story?”

Potter wiki sites describe Slytherins as natural leaders. They like to hang out with each other and passionately defend their friends. Nothing wrong with any of that.

Reluctantly I bought a copy of the video game Hogwarts Legacy late last year. For those unaware, it is game where you create a Hogwarts student and take them through various journeys while very rarely attending actual class. It is unique because you can link the game to your Pottermore account and have your own house and wand imported into the game to be used by your character. Decisions you make throughout the game shape your character and progression path.

I am sorted in to Slytherin and early in the game I meet Sebastian Sallow. He guides me through everyday life as a budding Slytherin and how to navigate the school. Pretty quickly we manage to get jumbled up in a few messes (classic Hogwarts) and it seems the “only way out” is to learn a little bit o’ the dark arts. With this game you have the choice to either learn this super tiny, super insignificant, mega inconsequential dark spell or ignore it because everybody over at Hogwarts told you “it was bad.”

Cunning instincts and natural leadership kick in and I quickly make the easy choice to learn the spell. It was totally the right decision. My man Sebastian and his posse were in trouble and…well…more spells can only be better right? Plus, if I didn’t learn that particular little spell he would probably still be stuck in some crypt with his arm stuck in an elaborate puzzle.

Over the next few months I play some game sessions here and there. Activities include saving lots of animals from poachers, taming a Griffon or two, building a sweet secret lair, going to a class here and there (yes, Professor Garlick is everything), flying around a bit, learning a few more powerful dark arts spells…

…ok, let’s just cut to the chase.

I fast track my way to learning the Killing Curse and find it oddly satisfying to juggle multiple trolls in the air whilst turning poachers into flaming chickens and launching them like grenades into goblin mines.

Here Dumbledore. You can have my wand back.

We ate our lunches and began to philosophize about how intentionally deep some of the art descriptions in the museum were. We laughed at how serious the descriptors were for a painting that seemed to only be a simple blotch of red paint on a black canvas. The conversation shifted to music and I admitted that I was beginning to learn more on the electric guitar. He proclaimed himself a “budding rythmassist”(basically somebody who could create sweet beats on any surface but didn’t own, or has ever even played, an actual drum kit). Instantly we were swept up in dreams of forming a band.

We bragged that between the two of us we could likely write a song right then and there that had simple sounding lyrics but could be “overanalyzed” by others as to what could be behind its deeper meaning. We ended up skipping the rest of the art museum tour and cranked out the lyrics to what would become our first major hit; Vegetable Woman.

It was a tale of a man who falls in love with a woman who is really a pea. Was she actually a pea or was it just metaphor? That’s for the listener to decide. He tells her that vegetables are the best and that fruits are stupid. Yet in the second verse he meets a strawberry woman and proceeds to tell her that vegetables are dumb and fruits are the best. Our 16 year old brains were pretty proud of our food driven story about the multiple masks we wear in all of our different relationships. But the real work still lay ahead. It was time to form a band and make this song a reality.

Within a matter of weeks we found ourselves in my basement with an old cassette tape recorder, a new set of drums, a guitar distortion pedal, and two new band members. Lincoln Hale was a snowboarder/rugby player/prom king with a rumored secret love of singing. We approached him with our idea to form a band and he quickly snatched up the chance to be our lead singer. Sarah Lucey was another superstar athlete and we overheard some people say she played guitar as well. She leapt at the opportunity to join me as we worked on rhythm and lead guitar duties. Our band, The Fuzzy Felt Builders, was now complete. We strategically placed the tape recorder in the center of the room and laid down this gem in a single take.

It’s super goofy for sure and the audio quality is horrendous, but this silly song is a core memory of mine and a defining moment in my life. Ultimately we weren’t creating the song to be liked or even heard by a ton of people. We were just having a blast with the process of pulling everything together to create some unique thing. It truly kickstarted my passion for performing and a desire to be part of something creative.

That's why stumbling onto this recent tweet both made me laugh and shudder at the same time.

There is far too much truth in this.

Many people are terrified about the thought of AI gaining some form of sentience and taking over the world. The fear is that AI will take over as an intelligent leader or super power and essentially eliminate the need for human intervention in many industries. Jon Stewart delivers a masterful explanation of this possibility.

Yet, I fear that when it comes to the arts, we’ve already given way too much power to AI. That threat of AI taking over as a creativity-generator is an even more terrifying possibility to me. Even TikTok often feels AI-like as we allow an algorithm to tell us what we should be interested in, how to dance, or which filter to use. We then do everything we can to mimic the original post, repost it, and then watch as it gets remixed and reposted over and over again by others. It may seem harmless because it’s only photos, drawings, videos, or music right? But the more we like, share, and generate AI created or algorithm driven content, the more we fuel the very system that is expertly designed to replace human effort. Essentially we’re creating the copy of a copy of a copy of a copy version of Michael Keaton in Multiplicity. Spoiler alert; that last copy was a complete wreck.

I decided to do a little AI musical experiment to compare an AI-generated version of Vegetable Woman to the idea we wrote as Fuzzy Felt Builders. Using AI and the simple prompt “create a quirky 90’s song about a vegetable woman”, I was able to “create” this song in only 10 seconds. It even graciously titled it for me. I present to you Veggie Love.

This song has lyrics that flow well, a snappy tempo, and an audio quality that is superior to our tape recorded attempt. I could post this song pretty easily and pass it off as my own creation and maybe even generate some likes. I’m sure it’s already happening all around us with not only music, but graphic design, storytelling, poetry, headlines, photography. and every other form of art.

Veggie Love took me 10 seconds to create and in return I got a good laugh, was genuinely impressed with the result, and could pretty easily crank out 20 different versions of the tune until I found one that REALLY slaps.

Vegetable Woman took us two full days to write the lyrics and record our initial version and in return I gained 3 new friends. Jon spent his saved money to buy a drum kit and learned how to play it. I got a job with the motivation to be able to afford new guitar pedals. We spent days reading manuals to a new Zip drive powered recording studio my dad bought so we could record new songs in the future. I used our band as inspiration to create a CD album cover for my graphic arts class for which I won an award. We learned and wrote new songs and ended up winning our school’s Battle Of The Bands competition which gave us the opportunity to perform in our prom the following year as Seniors (No, we did not perform Vegetable Woman). One moment of creation turned into a domino effect of even more creative opportunities.

As Fuzzy Felt Builders we ultimately recorded 13 songs as a little garage band in suburban Denver. This experience opened up parts of my creative mind and social life that I am eternally grateful for. Veggie Love may have changed my boredom for a moment and provided a few laughs, but Vegetable Woman changed my life (cheesiest line I’ve written all week).

I strongly believe that one of the greatest traits that makes us human is our ability to create art in its many and varied forms. In a world where we’re increasingly surrounding ourselves with 10 second AI creations, 2 second social interactions, and 1 second snap judgments, will we dare push the robots aside for a moment and give ourselves the space to truly create? The creative process is emotional, sloppy, imperfect, and sometimes completely goofy. But, it can be truly life changing for the creator. Let’s not give AI all the satisfaction.

Yet there is a repeating moment in all of these events that has piqued my curiosity; the playing of national anthems.

For many countries, athletes and fans alike will link arms and gleefully sing along to their country’s anthem while it is played at the beginning of an event. Americans?

Well. Things to get a bit more awkward.

I realize that there are a myriad of political reasons why somebody chooses to sing or not sing, stand or not stand, or cry or not cry during the playing of our national anthem. However, let’s push politics completely aside for a moment and consider another reason why the potentially larger population of Americans may get a little uneasy when we sing The Star Spangled Banner.

Quite simply; it’s a musical tripping hazard.

Now don’t get me wrong, I absolutely think The Star Spangled Banner it is an incredibly beautiful and stirring hymn. But that’s just it; it’s more of a hymn while being less like an anthem. Personally I’m beginning to think we could all use something a bit more “anthemy” right now.

It seems that the purpose of any national anthem would be as a means to unify fellow countrymen through song. Wouldn’t you want that song to be as musically accessible, engaging, memorizable, and simple as possible to ensure that the largest population would be willing and ready to sing it at any given time?

In fact, the original musical committee tasked with choosing our national anthem felt the same way. Although Francis Scott Key’s original poem was written in 1814, it wasn’t until 1916 that Woodrow Wilson began pushing to have The Star Spangled Banner played at most national occasions and even at the 1918 World Series. The song captured the attention of several congressmen who started to drive it towards being officially recognized as the U.S. National Anthem. However, The National Federation of Music Clubs argued against the song being chosen stating that the tune was too difficult for people to sing and that we should instead use America The Beautiful as our anthem.

Congress disagreed and The Star Spangled Banner was selected as our national anthem in a bill on March 4, 1931.

Musicians continue to unanimously agree that the tune is terrifyingly difficult to sing. This is because it covers a very broad musical range. An interval in music is the range that spans between the lowest and highest notes used in a song. Most songs don’t dare go beyond an octave range which is an eight note span. It’s just way too hard for most people to reach that kind of range without very serious musical training. The Star Spangled Banner? It covers a twelfth range.

Not only is it musically difficult to sing, but the lyrics are impossibly hard to remember. People very often forget or replace lyrics because without distinct verses or a chorus, it’s hard to know where you are in the song.

Lastly, it’s incredibly long. By the second minute, most people start to lose focus. And that’s only ever the first verse!

Francis Scott Key himself even understood all of this. His original song was first set to the tune of The Anacreonic Song which was a traditional British Gentlemen’s Club song. It was a tune that everybody knew and could joyfully belt out while drinking a pint with your friends.

Click here for what that would have sounded like.

It was Woodrow Wilson again in the 1900’s who gathered other writers in congress to ultimately come up with the tune we now have today.

So what ends up happening? We ask popular singers to belt out a solo of The Star Spangled banner at the beginning of our events and then we heavily criticize them when they inevitably hit a weird note or screw up the lyrics. The other option? Just play an instrumental version and we’ll stand there. Some people in the audience will awkwardly mouth the lyrics while others wait in stared silence because not a single one of us is ready, willing, or able to go full voice with this one. Especially if that first note was sung a little bit too high because then we’re going to be in a world of hurt when we get to the last line. Again, the song is beautiful and carries with it very real and patriotic feelings. But does it serve its purpose as a unifying anthem?

I think that in a time when we could use a little more unity in our country, let’s get back to old pub versions of our anthems. My wife suggested You’re A Grand Old Flag as a solid contender because it hits all of the key points (easy to sing, patriotic, simple lyrics, short, and has that sea shanty energy to it). Just watch during the upcoming Olympics in France as so many other countries will go full voice, full energy, and full respect to sing along to their nation’s anthem.

Let’s get back to linking arms and chanting a tune together as we celebrate our country through the unifying nature of song. It’s really next to impossible to do that with our current anthem and the unfortunate side effect is that the media, politicians, and citizens in general bash our very own athletes and fans for not singing the anthem thinking that it is because of some political reason. I think that it is more often because literally nobody except 1990’s Whitney Houston can sing this song and even she broke out in a sweat.

Hit me up in the comments with your thoughts on what could be another solid U.S. National Anthem choice.

I’ve gotten worse. Much, much worse.

Last November I wrote a post highlighting some of the events and experiences that piqued my initial interest in the sport.

Dust. Wind. Dude.

Do I Like Soccer Now?

With the World Cup only a few days away, I find myself having slightly more than lukewarm feelings towards soccer. So much so that I nearly called it ‘football’ in aforewritten sentence. Just how does one get to this point? My name is Dustin Walker and this is my story…

Read more

4 years ago · 1 like · Dustin Walker

The more I fed my curiosity, the more I became convinced that soccer football truly is “The Beautiful Game”. I mentioned this to a friend of mine, hoping to find an ally in my newfound love. Instead I was met with his simple retort, “Oof, being a soccer fan is…a lot.”

“It can’t be any worse than being a baseball fan!” I thought. I know plenty of diehard baseball fans and they all seemed crazy to me as they would watch multiple games each week both on and off season. “Who’s got time for that?” I would ask my maybe-watch-two-NFL-games-per-month self. Plus, there is so much movement on the roster with players and pitchers getting shifted around for each game. Nah, too much to keep track of. No thank you.

Yet, here we are.

A bunch of football related events have happened since my November post. Living in Raleigh, I hauled my whole family out to Charlotte so we could watch Charlotte FC take on the NY Red Bulls. We’ve attended multiple NC Courage games and I find myself absorbed in the stories behind the players, formation shifts, tactics, and tournament cup structures. I suddenly cared about games being played in between regular season games. My wife and I even ended up spending a full Friday with some friends attending The Soccer Tournament; a first of its kind competition that brought in teams like Ryan Reynolds’ Wrexham Red Dragons.

And then the U.S. Women’s National Team friendlies began.

For those unfamiliar, friendlies are non-competitive games that are played outside of any recognized competition or cup tournament and don’t count towards any kind of league ranking. So, why even bother playing these games? Friendlies are a chance for players and managers to try out new tactics, roster line ups, and strategies against other teams that may or may not even be in your league. It keeps players fit and familiar with teammates while also sometimes supporting charities or other events.

I started watching these friendly games leading up to this year’s Women’s World Cup. I became heavily invested in the individual players and how they contributed to the build and style of the team. Once the actual World Cup began my fandom kicked into high gear. Fortunately, at least one of my kids was willing to get up at 3am with me to catch the games being played live in Australia.

Several moments contributed to my initial interest in the sport, but women’s soccer is what ultimately broke me. Something about the passion, dynamics, talent, and pace of the women’s teams in particular completely sucked me in.

I was grateful to know that I was not alone in this realization as Rebecca Lowe (a delightful British sportscaster) and Brendon Hunt (Coach Beard on Ted Lasso and diehard soccer fan) discussed the impact women’s soccer had on the birth of their own fandom during a recent episode of their podcast After The Whistle.

I knew this was something that I was now chronically infected with when my subconscious decided to publicly announce where my headspace is at right now. I had to go in for an endoscopy (unrelated to anything else that we are talking about here) and needed to be knocked out as part of the procedure. The anesthetist told me I was going to have a very nice little sleep while the doctor performed the procedure. I would then be taken to a room where it would take about 5-10 minutes for me to “wake up” and recover. My wife was brought in to help me wake up during this recovery process and, like an amazing partner should do, captured all of my drunken proclamations on video.

It should be noted that I have absolutely ZERO recollection of this “conversation”.

I clearly have NWSL on the brain and am also apparently playing enough Manager Career Mode in FIFA that I think I would make a decent Coach (or whatever a Coach Advisor is?).

Heads up US Women’s National Team. I know the position is currently available.

Give me a ring.

A study done decades ago had several random strangers gather in an art gallery. The researchers told the participants that they were simply going to observe them in the gallery and the way they interacted with a series of paintings. What the researchers didn’t tell them however, was that prior to the study each participant was given a T-shirt to wear during their day at the gallery. There were 4 or 5 different colored shirts and everyone was given one at random. By the end of the gallery day each person had naturally gravitated towards others wearing the same color shirt. Interestingly, they all ultimately judged the artwork similar to the opinions of the others in their same colored T-shirt group. Even more surprising was that they openly criticized and mocked the judgements of people who were in groups of different colored shirts than their own.

These examples reveal some fascinating insight into human nature. As humans we are very quick to think only about our immediate environments and perspective yet we desperately want to be part of a similar thinking group or tribe. The researchers from the art gallery T-shirt study approached the participants decades later and asked them what they remembered about certain individuals in the groups. They remembered people with their same colored shirts as being friendly and warm, but their memories of people with other colored shirts were negative or they had completely forgotten about those individuals entirely.

I’ve been thinking a lot about this topic during my regular scripture study and kept coming across the commandment that we are asked to forgive one another’s ‘trespass’. The word ‘trespass’ really stood out to me and of course the first thing I thought of is somebody trespassing on another’s property. The word ‘trespass’ really stood out to me and of course the first thing I thought of is somebody trespassing on another’s property. So, I assume that ‘trespass’ would just be like when somebody wrongs us or “crosses the line” with me right? And then we’re asked to forgive people when that happens? Easy peasy.

Yet I dug a bit deeper into the phrase. The book of Leviticus in the Old Testament actually has a HUGE section all about this and even talks about something called a ‘trespass offering.’ Well, it turns out the term ‘trespass’ in Hebrew was referring to the unintentional transgressions that people would commit against one another.

Unintentional.

The trespass offering was then a way to gain forgiveness from both parties after an understanding was made on exactly why an offense was felt in the first place.

While I was serving a full time religious mission in Chile, we would sometimes encounter people who had decided to leave membership in the church. We found that the number one reason why most of these people left was because they were offended in some way by a fellow member or local leader. We would approach the “offending” person to see if we could help rectify the situation and it seemed that in 90% of the cases, the individual had zero idea that they had even done something that offended the other person. In a few cases, communication between the two people was established, misunderstandings were clarified, repentance and forgiveness occurred, and the offended person even came back to church participation. Sadly in other cases it ended with the individual still feeling they were wronged. They refused to forgive the other of their unintentional trespass claiming “that person should have known better and been more aware of the horrible thing they did or said.”

I know someone who unfortunately thinks that the world is always out to get them in one way or another. Every time we are out in public they will spend the bulk of the trip saying things like, “did you see the way that person just looked at me?” and “I can’t believe that guy just pulled in front of us and didn’t even say sorry.” I’m saddened as I see how much anxiety and pain they go through with these thoughts.

Halfway through one of my son’s varsity football games I was suddenly struck very hard in the shoulder by something. I looked to discover that somebody had lobbed a completely full Gatorade bottle over the press booth and it hit me right in the shoulder before it bounced off and hit my daughter in the head. My immediate reaction was a lot of anger and confusion. It physically hurt! I was even more mad that it hurt my daughter, yet was grateful that it hit me first so that it didn’t hit her square in the head. We were also sitting very close to several more elderly fans as well as tiny newborns.

My mind raced as I thought about the thoughtlessness of whoever threw the bottle and what damage could have been done had it hit someone else. My gut reaction was to rush around to the back of the stands, quickly find whoever did this, and “teach them a lesson.”

Brigham Young once compared being offended to a poisonous snakebite.

Certainly we always have every right to feel bothered, hurt, or even offended, but we often want to put blame on things that bother, hurt, or offend us on some other person, group, or cause outside our control. In the case of the rattlesnake, how often do we consider the side of the snake? Why did it bite in the first place? Sometimes a rattlesnake will bite because it feels threatened, afraid, or because you actually stepped on it. Sometimes it just bites because a thoughtless instinct kicks in. We often fabricate offenses in our own mind simply because somebody is in a different group than us; similar to what happened in the T-Shirt study. What compels somebody to throw a Gatorade bottle into a crowd of people? Unfortunately, there is no way of knowing in this case. I do know, however, that for about an entire quarter of that football game, I was burdened. I was mad that somebody would be that thoughtless. I was mad that it physically hurt not only me but someone I love. My daughter was visibly bothered too about why somebody would do something like that. I made all kinds of assumptions about this (most likely) “kid” and “how stupid he (obviously) is.”

The Bible teaches in Luke Chapter 9 that Jesus Christ and his disciples traveled to teach and serve the Samaritans. The Samaritans instantly recognized the group as Jewish (a people they despised) and violently rejected them. Two of Christ’s disciples, James and John, were particularly bothered by this interaction. Having read the scriptures their entire lives and having waited for decades for a Messiah who was going to come down and “save” them from their enemies, they looked to their Master and angrily asked,

“Lord, wilt thou that we command fire to come down from heaven and consume them?” (Luke 9:54)

They were ready for their savior in this very moment to violently wipe out their enemies and “teach these people a lesson”.

The Lord rebuked them and said,

“Ye know not what manner of spirit ye are of. For the son of man is not come to destroy men’s lives, but to save them”. (Luke 9:56)

In the parable of the Prodigal Son I find that more often than not we find ourselves in the role of the faithful brother; the one that did not leave. We are doing our best to live a good life and then struggle with feelings and thoughts of anger, confusion, and jealousy as we watch someone else, who we feel has done terrible things, get all of the attention, credit, or forgiveness that we feel is all too undeserved.

Do we find ourselves using phrases like, “I hope they got what they deserved”, or “one day they will learn,” or “I’ll show them?” This is not forgiving others of their trespass. This is a form of pride as we lift ourselves above others and justify that our perspective is right and that “at least one day my enemy will be punished and boy won’t that make me feel even better about myself?”

This is not forgiveness.

Russel M. Nelson beautifully drove this message home in an April 2023 message.

We are finding ourselves more and more offended by others simply because they wear a different color T-Shirt. We burden ourselves thinking that one day “that group that I disagree with will finally get what they deserve”. We bear heavy burdens of being offended by the actions of others that in no way meant any offense. We often take offense simply because we disagree with or think differently from someone and we wear ourselves down trying to convince ourselves and others about how right I am and how wrong they are. We are quick to draw lines in the sand and define who our enemies are, willing to do whatever it takes to publicly drag them through the mud. True, there are times when we do have very legitimate reasons to take offense by the actions of others, yet we still have to make a choice with how we will react.

Some people may claim it is weak to take a Gatorade bottle from an unknown tosser smack in the shoulder and do nothing about it. But I felt strong. I could sit next to my young daughter and focus on the things that I had control over without regret. I was able to drive the anger out of my system, understand that mindless things happen sometimes, and show gratitude for the remainder of what ended up being an exciting game. I genuinely hope that individual is having a great day today wherever they are and however a great day looks like for them.

Christ reminded his disciples, just prior to his death, about how we trulyshow forgiveness towards everyone,

“A new commandment I give unto you, that ye love one another as I have loved you. That ye also love one another. By this shall men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another.” (John 13:34–35)

Forgiveness is love. It really is that simple. Hard to implement though. If there is someone who you feel has offended you, unburden yourself by leaning your back up against theirs and asking them about their perspective, experience, and background. You will gain a more clear idea of what shapes they are seeing in the wooden blocks sitting in front of them. With this perspective you will find it easier to show love, patience, and compassion as we all navigate this earthly experience as a shared human race.

Jesus Christ was the ultimate example of this as He forgave even those who crucified Him. He was able to do this lovingly as He had spent his entire earthly life walking with them, serving them, and understanding them. I’m grateful that Christ shows me love and compassion rather than giving me“what I deserve”.

As we strive to be peacemakers, remember that a rising tide lifts all boats. We exist among a beautiful sea of blue, green, red, yellow, and rainbow colored T-shirts. We will experience everlasting joy and a true sense of peace and love as we seek first to understand before seeking to be understood.

Being a proud, card-carrying member of Extraverts Onymous, COVID hit particularly hard for me. I struggled to connect with others digitally and truly missed being able to stand less than 6’ from another human being. (Sidenote: as a formally educated Microbiologist, I totally supported the restrictions; I just didn’t like it.)

When restrictions started to ease up, I promptly gathered my family together and vocally declared my own Summer Of George Dustin. I felt like COVID just handed me a severance package and I was free to run with all of the things I had been aching to do. Like George, I had the motivation, but definitely not a clear path of where that energy was going to be directed.

George wanted to spend his time entirely in his PJ’s and disconnecting from everyone (among other things, he does read a book, updates his answering machine outgoing message, and ultimately winds up in the hospital from an accident related to “severe inactivity"). I, on the other hand, desperately needed social activity and I craved anything that would push my creativity. Therefore I sought out and accepted any opportunity that would meet those two simple requirements. I am proud to report that not only has the Summer of Dustin been mega satisfying and a raging success for me personally, but I feel it continues to this very day. Here are some key highlights:

Finding Patience

Pre-COVID I had made the acquaintance of mega-creative-superhero Angie Staheli. I casually told her that a bucket list item of mine was to be part of a theater production. Fortunately she remembered the comment since she reached out post-COVID to let me know about a musical she had written and was going to direct. I signed up to audition without hesitation. The musical told the history of our little North Carolina town through the lens of Patience, a deceased formerly enslaved woman, as she greets various characters across a broad timeline. I went into the audition prepared to be offered a small background part with absolutely zero singing. I was wrong. I was offered several larger roles and MULTIPLE singing parts including several solos. I was ecstatic. Months of really, really hard work led up to several weeks of completely sold out shows. My social bucket was quickly filled as I worked with so many talented actors and crew members and I loved working a new part of my creativity that I had never tapped into previously.

I am so honored to be a part of this production and am absolutely blown away by the talent that was involved. For anyone interested, the soundtrack can be heard on all streaming platforms. Look to the songs “World’s Okayest Paranormal Investigators” and “The Town Chooses You” if you want to jump right over to my whole-hearted attempt to fit in with these musical veterans. But if you want to hear some truly amazing work, check out tracks 2, 8, 11, and 12.

Bards College

Podcasting ruled supreme during COVID. Not only was I obsessed with listening to a TON of podcasts, I wanted to be a part of the podcast creator’s club. Diving into YouTube tutorials, wrangling up my Aunt Wendi as a co-host, and scrounging up some willing interviewees, we put together a halfway decent show. It was only short lived because of my inability to stay consistent with cranking out content. What can I say? Summer of Dustin.

Bull City

This was definitely one of the most random and fun things I was a part of. Filmmaker Rene Olmos was hired to create a multi-award-winning music video for Finding Patience. Our paths crossed again nearly a year later and he approached me saying he was working on a short film project and had me in mind for a character. The character? A mob boss. Could I pull off a villain? I had no idea, but was willing and ready to try anything to be part of something creative and unique. My respect for filmmakers is through the roof now. We set out to create a very short film that felt like it could be part of a much larger movie. The intent was to provide people with an opportunity to try some new techniques, display some talent, and just have fun. With literally zero budget and everybody working until 4am each night, we put together something pretty special in a very short amount of time. Plus the movie premiered as part of a local film festival and I got to see myself on the big screen for the very first time.

Fun! I’d be more than happy to dive into a sequel.

Idle Jacks

I started playing the guitar when I was about 14 or 15. I immediately started a garage band with some friends and I was hooked. Playing guitar by yourself is fun and all, but playing in a band is the absolute best! We moved to NC right before COVID hit, so it took us a minute to acclimate and establish some solid friend groups. As soon as we got social again, I quickly met some awesome musicians and we threw together an 80’s synth pop cover band called Idle Jacks. Thanks to our mad talented and coolest-person-ever manager Sarah Larson (another Finding Patience connection since she was the play’s stage manager) we had some solid gigs quickly lined up and we were on our way, merch booth and all.

Random Projects

My wife Riley had a need to create an instructional video for a girl’s youth camp discussing the rules behind appropriate phone usage during the camp. Let’s just say, I was up for the task. Pulling from the things I’ve been learning along the way with my past projects, I submitted this video to the ether.

What’s Next?

I’ve been inspired by so many creative and talented people over the last few years. If there’s one thing I truly learned about myself during the pandemic it’s that I want to create more than I consume. I found that scrolling social media accounts, mindlessly watching YouTube, or only talking about shows and movies with friends is draining. Being in the creator’s seat is energizing.

I’m excited to think about what could be around the corner. Have something you created post-COVID? Feel free to share it in the comments so we can all enjoy it. In the meantime, I’m going to go update my voicemail outgoing message whilst in my PJ’s.

With the World Cup only a few days away, I find myself having slightly more than lukewarm feelings towards soccer. So much so that I nearly called it ‘football’ in aforewritten sentence. Just how does one get to this point?

My name is Dustin Walker and this is my story.

Late 1980’s

I’m in elementary school and my childhood best friend is somehow part of a traveling soccer team. I don’t recall how, when, or why he signed up for the team but I find myself spending several weekends in Steamboat Springs, CO to cheer him on during tournaments. I usually wind up bored out of my mind as I don’t pay much attention to the games, but wholeheartedly appreciate the hotel stays, sharing platters of pre-game spaghetti with my friend, and the hours long ride in his mom’s T-Bird to get to and from the resort.

1997

I immediately think of a specific episode of The Simpsons whenever someone mentions soccer. This phenomenon continues to this very day for nearly every other aspect of my life. I’m not complaining.

1999-2001

I serve a religious mission in Chile, South America. I work to preach the gospel of Jesus Christ to the people and, in turn, the people preach the gospel of Chilean fútbol to me. I find myself purchasing a knockoff jersey from a street vendor and am instantly beloved by Chileans of all ages.

I still don’t know the rules on how to play the game and can only name one position on the field (goalie), but I am taught how to play a miniaturized version that they call Baby Fútbol. We find ourselves playing it on a weekly basis.

2002

I’m back in the U.S. and the movie Bend It Like Beckham is released. Something stirs inside of me as I see it in the theater. I think that it must be a newfound love of soccer having been surrounded by it for so long in South America. Turns out it was simply an appreciation for Keira Knightly and British accents.

2020

Soccer virtually disappears from my radar as I no longer play weekly Baby Fútbol. Keira Knightly also decides to move on to pirate movies. Yet, like pretty much everybody else on the planet, I find myself enamored with a little show called Ted Lasso. As Danny Rojas scampers around the pitch (do you see what happened there?) I find myself wanting to believe his mantra…

Ted Lasso was making soccer funny, interesting, and cool for those of us on the fringes. Concepts like loans and relegations depicted in the series had me curious. I am older now. Wiser. I am ready to be taught.

Summer of 2022

My wife and I take our two oldest sons to the UK for a two week vacation. Entirely on a whim, we decide to book tickets for a stadium tour of Old Trafford; home of Manchester United (essentially the New England Patriots of Premier League Soccer). As part of the tour we are able to run through the team tunnel, sit in the best seats in the stadium, and visit the actual team locker room where, much to our surprise, our second born rushed up and sniffed Ronaldo’s jersey. As I succumbed to FOMO and did the same, I had a stark realization; football (see?) feels very accessible to fans. It would likely cost me one billion dollars to have the same tour experience at an NFL stadium, yet here we were; at one of the top teams in the world, sniffing their star player’s jersey. Sitting in the seats you realize how important these teams are to their communities and fans.

The Last Three Months

My jersey-sniffing-son and I have been playing a lot of FIFA on Xbox.

Like, a lot.

We’ve been making players, managing teams, and are now working through the World Cup itself. I even created a custom team and managed it through a glorious season and several cups. Yet I make one odd trade and am promptly fired? I’m over it. Really I am.

But the pièce de résistance was when I posted a 2 part story on my Instagram about a Scottish player I created named Keithen McSweeney.

Here’s the link to the actual post.

Now if you happen to click on the link and check out the post, pay close attention to who has liked it. You’ll see that both Brett Goldstein and Cristo Fernández gave it some love. That’s Roy Kent AND Danny Rojas!

That’s it y’all. I’m in.

I’ve played street fútbol IN South America while yelling and communicating with teammates who only spoke Spanish. I’ve stood on real life football hallowed ground and sniffed the sweat of greatness. I’ve had online interactions with fictional football stars, and have even been fired by my own virtual club. Yup. I’m beginning to think I may like this a little bit more than I used to.

Another one of their friends had a mother who was raising funds for Breast Cancer Awareness. They were inspired by this and decided they would challenge their friends to put $10 on the table and grow a Mo (the Australian slang term for mustache) to help generate awareness around men’s health and prostate cancer. The two men were Travis Garone and Luke Slattery and they quickly found that they had 30 of their best friends signed up for the challenge. A year later, in 2004, they decided to formalize the challenge and branded it Movember. By 2007 Movember was an international charity and campaign where ‘Mo Bros’ and ‘Mo Sistas’ would work together during the month of November to raise awareness around men’s health issues. Supporters would raise awareness by growing mustaches, giving up bad habits, be more physically active, or simply host events to bring people together. Today Movember is now the leading charity for mental health and suicide prevention as well as testicular and prostate cancer research with 5 million people supporting it since 2003.

2022 will be my 12th year supporting Movember. When I first learned about Movember in 2010, I was excited to use it as a way to gather my ‘mates’ and work towards a common cause. I noticed in my own life that as I got older, I found it more and more difficult to maintain tight bonds with the men around me. I think men in general tend to be more closed off with each other and don’t really make the time to engage and interact at a deeper level. I would see my wife go out with girl friend groups regularly where they would share life stories with one another and ultimately find ways to support each other, which in turn allowed then to grow closer. So, I signed up for Movember and convinced a few family members and friends to join me as we shaved clean and grew mustaches to raise awareness.

I would host events each year with an eagerness to gather the men in my life and have some fun as we would laugh at each other’s lip fuzz. But the organization is now wildly more important and personal for me now. Beginning in 2018 I began to experience sudden and unexplained panic attacks. They were so bad that I wound up in the ER multiple times and was at a point where my day-to-day interactions and activities were severely affected and limited. As I worked with doctors and therapists to figure out what was going on, I remember feeling extremely alone. I gratefully had the full support of my wonderful wife, yet I felt the need to have a guy friend around who could sympathize with me and understand what I was going through as a husband and father. I think part of that desire was present because, as men, we traditionally have been taught to “suck it up” or “man up” when things get difficult. But this was a very real problem that I was experiencing and I was feeling hopeless and lost. It was really hard feeling out of control or weak in front of my wife and kids and I longed for support from someone who perhaps had been through something similar.

During this period, I remembered Movember and turned to resources that they provided. Ultimately I began a journey through therapy. Fortunately, with those resources and help I was able to regain control over my anxiety and stress and have been back to my “normal self” for the last several years with zero panic attacks. As I talk about my experiences with other men, I am not surprised at how many of them have also quietly been dealing with similar issues and concerns and are desperate to talk about it with someone.

I am grateful for Movember and for the vision it has as we work to raise awareness around men’s health. It is still a fun way for me to engage with friends and family and we currently have a team of Mo Bros and Mo Sistas who are each complete rock stars. We are working on ways to improve ourselves this month and have the support and friendship of the entire team.

I will not be growing my Mo this year (fortunately for some, unfortunately for others) because I just can’t cope with shaving off my beard right now. So, to show support and to push myself this year, I am committing to logging my daily calories for the entire month. I know that when I do this, I feel better, I lose body fat (which is a huge personal goal right now), and my confidence goes up. But counting calories is a major pain in my butt. I really don’t like doing it, but every time I do, I see results. That is why I am committing to it this month. It’s a sacrifice that I am willing to make to help raise funds for the cause.

Visit My Mo Space

If you would like to get involved or make a donation, you can check out my Mo Space by clicking the button above. You can learn more about the charity, find resources around men’s health, and join our team if you would like to get even more involved. Liking this post will mean a lot to me, but a $1.00 donation would mean the world to the billions of people that will benefit from this organization. Happy Movember!!

I used to travel frequently as an Account Manager for a microbiology company. I primarily traveled around my sales territory covering most of the Rocky Mountain states and the mid-west, but every so often I was able to travel to other, more exotic places for conferences. One year our company decided to hold our annual kick-off meeting in Cancún, Mexico. A fairly routine location I’d say for your modern sales event, so let’s spice up the situation with three new backstory elements; the ingredients in our story salsa if you will.

First Ingredient

I am a guitarist. I first picked up the guitar when I was about 14 years old. I have this odd memory of my guitar instructor telling me that I was about to embark on a beautiful relationship with what he described as “the most important woman in your life”. When I was about 21 years old I found that to be completely false when I met my soon-to-be, and now, wife. Nevertheless, I am very fond of my guitar. I still worry, however, about my guitar instructor’s long term happiness and social skills.

The year prior to our sales meeting in Cancún I had become acquainted with several co-workers who were also musicians. We threw around the idea of forming a company band and, with the blessing of our executive management and marketing teams, found ourselves being asked to perform during our meeting to pump up the sales reps. Ok. You with me? I am traveling to Cancún with a six-string on my back.

Next Ingredient

Between my freshman and sophomore years at college I had the pleasure of living in Santiago, Chile for a time. I was serving a religious mission and as a result of this experience I became quite fluent in Spanish. I’ve found it to be a helpful skill and I was absolutely looking forward to opportunities to use it while heading down for our sales conference.

Final Ingredient

The day before the meeting I flew down to Cancún from Denver. After arriving in the airport, I followed the standard drill as we shuffled through security and customs upon gathering our baggage. A customs officer called me out of the security line and, speaking in Spanish, told me she needed to look through my bags.

Side note here: for any of you readers who may have learned a second language; an odd thing happens to your brain doesn’t it? You find that at some point you no longer need to translate things in your head. You simply now have what seems to be two brains. Language-A Brain and Language-B Brain and they just kind of turn on and off depending on which language you are working with.

I was certain I was being called out because I was carrying a fairly large suitcase and a big guitar case. I therefore complied whilst my Language-B Spanish Brain quickly kicked in. Translating the conversation from Spanish to English, the discussion went something like this…

Customs Agent: “Why are you visiting Mexico?”

Me: “I am here for a meeting and a performance.”

Customs Agent: Ignoring my guitar case completely and now digging through my suitcase. “Ok. How long will you be here?”

Me: “About a week.”

Customs Agent: Calling over to another agent, “Hey, can you come over here?”

Other Agent: Looks through my suitcase and then looks at me. “Who are you?”

Me: “I’m Dustin Walker.”

First Customs Agent: Leaning in very close and whispering, “No, who are you?” She glances down. I now notice they are both looking at a Mexican luchador mask sitting in my suitcase. It was a souvenir I had purchased while on a cruise to Cozumel years before. It was a nicer one and I thought it would be a fun thing to use during a team building exercise I was scheduled to help with during our Cancún meeting. This mask is the final ingredient in my story salsa. Let’s do this thing!

Fiesta Time

I glanced at the mask. I stared at the agents. Here’s some guy waltzing into the country, speaking fluent Spanish, carrying a guitar, and brandishing a luchador mask.

Me: “Well, I don’t want to make a scene or anything, but you might know me as El Asesino Barbudo.” (Bearded Assassin. Not bad eh?)

They seemed truly starstruck. We chatted for several minutes and they ultimately asked for an autograph and a selfie together with which I was also compelled to give. As I left the encounter, a strange feeling was brewing inside. Do you remember that scene in Nacho Libre when Nacho is trying his hardest to explain why lucha libre is wrong and should be avoided?

For that brief moment going through airport security in Cancún, I tasted celebrity. I understood where Nacho was coming from. I wanted my fancy cremes and lotions. It felt like I was a superhero and a couple of people had learned my secret identity. Maybe, just maybe, I could hop on a totally different taxi and start living my new dream of pile driving others in the face.

I went to the conference instead.

To this day I’m not 100% certain those agents weren’t just playing with me as well. But, I like to think that somewhere in Mexico right now are two customs agents who occasionally pull out their selfie with El Asesino Barbudo. One day they’ll show the photo to their grandchildren and say, “ Gather round niños. Come sit at my feet as I tell you about the time I met a luchador fantástico. Actually, come to think of it, I haven’t heard his name since. He must have been the absolute worst. Never mind. Forget everything I said. Run off now and play.”

Want A Little Something Extra?

Personally, I like to play music while I cook. I select music that compliments the meal and really gets you in the zone. So, let’s turn up the volume and mash that play button below.

We talk about some of the interesting people we meet along the way in our journeys. For Lloyd it was being able to connect with other adventurous spirits including Chainsaw experts, knife makers, and gypsy cart owners. 

We wrap up with some LOTR geek outs and advice for those looking to get primal with their fitness.

Super fun and interesting chat! Definitely go get to know Lloyd on his Instagram page here. He is inspiring, strong, and completely hilarious. 

We had a great time getting to know her and invite you to check out her music by clicking the links below.

Apple Music or on Spotify.

Kathleen can also be found on Instagram at https://www.instagram.com/kathleenssongs/

In this episode we start by talking about the recent backlash being dished out to the new Star Wars series, The Book Of Boba Fett. Then, we discuss some of our favorite things that may have been poorly reviewed by critics or the general public, but continue to be a guilty pleasure. 

Shoutout to Firmbee.com on Unsplash for the cover art this time around.