Reflecting on a Year of Work
Dear Aldo and Adelina,
At the end of a year, it’s natural to look back on what’s done and what’s undone. For some of us, there’s a temptation to focus on what’s undone: projects that will stretch into the next year and projects left by the wayside. Or projects that didn’t turn out exactly as we envisioned.
This is a vulnerable thing to talk about, because we’re a company, a brand, and brands are always supposed to present themselves well.
But progress isn’t a series of triumphs. It’s an iterative chiseling. We wake up and go to work and we try. And trying is the point, the one thing we can really control. The only real goal is to never stop trying.
The trying never ends - after all, the work will be there when we wake up on January 1st the same as any other day - so it’s important to find time to celebrate the work that’s been done.
After all, when you’re chiseling away, day after day, it can be hard to see that your work adds up to something. You have to take a step back to see what you’ve made. And we made some progress this year. We served our clients and worked in a way we feel proud of, in a marketplace that can feel inhuman. We made and debuted a short film that made people talk about hard things, which was always the goal. We stood up and argued for things that matter.
And alongside this, life kept happening and giving it all meaning. The family got fed and clothed. Adelina, you teethed this year. Aldo, you conquered fears and played with joy.
I find that I have more clarity about what matters when I think about you two than when I think about myself. If you try, I’ll be proud. And that gives me perspective on my own work.
Thank you both for being my inspiration. Thank you for the smiles, the hugs, the love - thank you for teaching me what really matters.
Good work doesn’t happen in a vacuum. It happens when you’re full of love.
Because I do love you guys, so much.
Dear John and James,
I came a little closer to achieving some big lifelong dreams this year. The stuff I started hoping for when I was not much older than you. And I felt like, maybe, I was starting to produce something worthwhile, in this work I devoted my life to so long ago.
It was an exciting, personally fulfilling year in a lot of ways.
And it was also a very normal year. I picked you up from school. I had good and bad days of parenting. You made me feel the whole range of things that parents feel. Life continued to feel like life.
And I wondered if I’m a better or worse parent thanks to the writing life I’ve chosen. How much of this work is for you, how much is for me, how much is for the rest of the world?
Sometimes I feel so selfish for spending my time on something I love. But other parents are less present for the sake of much more pointless work.
But still, it’s not just my sacrifice. I’m sure you’d rather drive around in a car that didn’t rattle. I know you’d like to travel to theme parks and buy those expensive holiday inflatables for our yard. I tell myself I have a responsibility to let you see me devoting myself to something creative, some sort of nobler purpose, and that I’m showing you by example how I hope you’ll live. Maybe that logic is just justification for refusing to grow up and get a real job.
But like Andrew, when I think of you instead of myself, it becomes more clear. You’ll have to do the things that feel like your offerings to the world. I hope you find what those things are.
I hope in my most optimistic moments that I can provide a roadmap for living that way.
Thank you, boys, for all the inspiration. Thank you for the drawings and the questions and even the interruptions.
Good work doesn’t happen in a vacuum. It happens when you’re full of love.
Because I do love you guys, so much.
Thanks for a good year.