When I think about where my entrepreneurial mindset came from, I always come back to my dad. It’s been three years since his passing, and this time of year always makes me stop and think—not just about him, but about how much of who I am came from watching who he was.
I grew up in a neighborhood full of people in many fascinating professions. Every day I saw examples of what a “successful” career could look like. But for some reason, the path that stood out to me was different. I thought being an entrepreneur sounded like the coolest thing you could be.
My dad was an entrepreneur—back then, people just called it a business owner. I remember thinking that going to work on a Saturday was the coolest thing in the world. It felt like commitment. Like ownership. Like purpose.
Years later, toward the end of his life, my dad told me something that changed how I saw all of it. He said there were many days when he would sit on the steps of the house, trying to get the energy to go in and lead his team. That stuck with me. Leadership isn’t about always feeling strong—it’s about showing up even when you don’t.
As a kid, he pushed me to mow lawns. Not just to make money, but to earn it. When I turned 16, I walked into a car dealership with cash I had saved myself. The dealer looked at me and asked if I had robbed a bank.
I hadn’t. I had just worked.
That mindset—work, save, build—never left me.
It’s what eventually led Lauren and myself to start a business focused on working with executives and driven entrepreneurs. I see pieces of my dad in what I do every day: showing up, leading, building, and sometimes sitting on the steps trying to find the energy to do it again.
The real inheritance he left me wasn’t financial. It was a way of thinking. Responsibility. Grit. The belief that you can build something meaningful if you’re willing to work for it.
What still amazes me is how much impact one person can have on another, often without ever realizing it. My dad probably never thought of himself as a “teacher.” But everything I do today traces back to watching him.
If I can pass even a piece of that on—encouraging someone to take a risk, build something, and bet on themselves—then I’m doing what my dad did for me. And that feels like the best way to honor him.
