The Green Light Ahead
In The Great Gatsby, the green light at the end of Daisy Buchanan’s dock becomes one of the most enduring symbols in American literature. To Jay Gatsby, it represents hope, longing, and the dream of a future that always seems just beyond his reach. More broadly, the green light symbolizes our own aspirations—the goals, relationships, and possibilities that continually call us forward. It reminds us that while dreams inspire us to keep reaching, they also challenge us to appreciate the present rather than believing fulfillment always lies just over the horizon.
If someone had told the little boy growing up in Aurora, Minnesota, that one day he would write a book about his life, I doubt he would have believed them. He wasn't thinking about legacies back then. He was thinking about comic books, baseball games, fishing at the cabin, riding bicycles until dark, and trying to grow just a little taller and a little stronger. He couldn't possibly have known that those seemingly ordinary days were quietly shaping the man he would someday become.
Life rarely unfolds the way we imagine.
Looking back now, I can see that every chapter mattered—even the ones I would have gladly skipped. The joyful moments taught me gratitude. The painful ones taught me resilience. The failures humbled me. The successes reminded me to remain thankful. Every disappointment became preparation for something I couldn't yet see.
When I left Aurora, I thought I was leaving home. Instead, I was carrying it with me. New Lisbon gave me unforgettable coaches, mentors, challenges, and the confidence to chase bigger dreams. Iowa State University gave me lifelong friends and opened doors I never imagined possible. My years at 3M allowed me to travel the world, solve problems, meet remarkable people, and build a career I could be proud of.
Along the way, I bought my first home, became a father, experienced deep joy, endured heartbreak, and discovered that life has a way of humbling every one of us. There were seasons when everything seemed to be moving forward and others when it felt like everything was falling apart.
At the time, I often wondered “why?” Today, I rarely do. Experience has taught me that God often writes the most meaningful chapters after we've reached the page where we thought the story was over. Retirement wasn't an ending. It became another beginning.
Instead of measuring success by promotions, projects, or paychecks, I slowly began measuring it differently. Success became spending an afternoon with my grandchildren. It became taking long walks with my wife. It became helping someone buy a home, encouraging others through West Egg Living, serving my church, writing stories that preserve family memories, and trying each day to leave the world just a little better than I found it.
Perhaps the greatest surprise of my life arrived when I least expected it. After believing one chapter had permanently closed, God introduced me to Pamela.
People often ask how we met, but that's really the easy part. The remarkable part is how naturally our lives fit together afterward. She didn't simply become my wife. She became my best friend, my biggest encourager, my favorite traveling companion, and the person who continually reminds me that the best conversations are those where truth is spoken with love, vulnerability is met with compassion, and both people leave feeling understood.
She has shown me that love can be celebrated with grand gestures. But love grows and becomes stronger in everyday faithfulness—in shared laughter, patient understanding, holding hands on a walk, planning another adventure, or simply sitting together watching the sun disappear below the horizon.
I often think about that moment on the Golden Gate Bridge when I asked her to marry me. At the time, it felt like the beginning of a new adventure. Looking back now, I realize it was also the reward for enduring the difficult roads that led me there.
Together we've continued writing chapters I never imagined possible. Traveling. Laughing. Serving. Dreaming. Growing older—not reluctantly, but gratefully. If there is one lesson these pages have taught me, it is this: Life is rarely defined by the extraordinary moments alone. It is built inside thousands of ordinary ones. Family dinners. Summer evenings. Old friends. Hard work. Second chances. Simple conversations. Quiet faith.
Those are the moments that become a life.
As I write these final words from our home in Apple Valley, Minnesota, I recognize how incredibly blessed I have been. I have watched my son grow into a caring, thoughtful father and husband. I have also been blessed to welcome his remarkable wife into our family. Together they are amazing parents. Through Pam, I gained a generous, caring son and a beautiful, spirited daughter, both of whom have enriched my life in countless ways. In 2025, our daughter married the love of her life, adding yet another joyful chapter to our family’s story. I have become Papa to two precious granddaughters, a title that somehow carries more meaning than any professional title I ever earned. I have been surrounded by lifelong friends, a loving family, wonderful in-laws, and a wife who makes every new season of life something I look forward to embracing.
The older I become, the less interested I am in accumulating things. The less interested I am in purchasing a larger home or a second home. Pam and I have invested our time in resources for our current home. With its small footprint, it fits our lifestyle perfectly. I want to accumulate memories. Relationships. Stories. Wisdom. Kindness. Those are the investments that continue paying dividends long after everything else fades away.
This book was never meant to suggest that I lived a perfect life; far from it. It is simply the story of one ordinary boy who discovered that an ordinary life, lived with faith, perseverance, gratitude, and love, can become something remarkably beautiful.
F. Scott Fitzgerald ended The Great Gatsby with these unforgettable words: “So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.” There’s a profound truth in that. To me, those words remind us that our past never stops influencing the direction of our lives. The goal isn’t to outrun it, but to learn from it, make peace with it, and use it as the foundation for creating a better future.
Our memories will always call us home. But I have also learned something else. The green light is still ahead of us. There are still grandchildren to delight, new places to explore, friends to encourage, causes worthy of our time and talents, lessons to learn, faith to deepen, and love to give. As long as we have breath, there are still lives to touch and a legacy to build.
And tomorrow, God willing, another sunrise is waiting just beyond the horizon. For all the miles already traveled, I remain excited for the road ahead. Because life's greatest blessing isn't reaching the destination, it's discovering who walks beside you on the journey. And I couldn't ask for a better companion than Pamela.
The story isn't over. Not yet. The best chapters may still be waiting to be written.