Every meaningful project begins with a question. Mine wasn't, "How can I build another business?" It was, "How can I share what life has taught me in a way that genuinely helps other people?”
West Egg Living didn’t start as a business idea. It didn’t begin with a marketing plan, a logo, or a domain name. It wasn’t born in a conference room or during a late-night brainstorming session fueled by ambition. It started the way most meaningful things do—slowly, quietly, and out of necessity.
There comes a point in life when the scaffolding you thought was permanent begins to wobble. For me, that point came in my late 50’s / early 60’s. Career paths shifted. Relationships changed. Financial assumptions were challenged. Health became something I could no longer take for granted. I found myself asking questions I hadn’t needed to ask before—not because I was failing, but because I was aging. And aging has a way of stripping away illusions while sharpening perspective.
I wasn’t starting over from zero, but I was rebuilding—emotionally, financially, physically, spiritually. And what I discovered during that season was something no one really prepares you for: there is very little honest guidance for how to live well in the second half of life. Plenty of noise. Plenty of extremes. Plenty of advice shouting from opposite ends of the spectrum. But very little wisdom that says, “Here’s how you build a good life—slowly, sustainably, and intentionally—after 50.” That absence became the seed.
The name West Egg Living didn’t come from a branding exercise. It came from literature—and symbolism. In The Great Gatsby, West Egg represents the side of the bay associated with self-made people. Builders. Strivers. Those who didn’t inherit ease but earned their place through effort, reinvention, and resilience.
East Egg had polish and pedigree.
West Egg had grit and growth.
That distinction stuck with me.
Because by the time you reach the second half of life, most of us are no longer living off potential—we’re living off experience. Scars included. Lessons learned the hard way. Wins earned, not given.
West Egg Living became a metaphor for that stage of life:
- Not flashy
- Not inherited
- Not perfect
But intentional. Thoughtful. Built with care. It felt honest. And honesty mattered. There was no single launch day. West Egg Living came together through a series of small, almost unremarkable decisions:
- Writing posts that were more reflective than reactive
- Sharing lessons without pretending to have everything figured out
- Choosing clarity over clicks
- Depth over drama
At first, it was just posts—short reflections on life, health, money, relationships, faith, and perspective. Things I was learning, re-learning, or unlearning. Then patterns began to emerge. People responded not to bold claims, but to grounded experience. Not to hustle culture, but to balance. Not to perfection, but to progress.
I realized I wasn’t just posting thoughts—I was documenting a way of living. West Egg Living grew by organizing life into pillars rather than programs. Over time, those pillars became clear:
- Wellness – because health touches everything
- Wisdom – because perspective only grows if you reflect
- Wealth – because money is a tool, not a scorecard
- Relationships – because life is lived with people, not possessions
- Legacy – because eventually the question becomes, “What lasts?”
These weren’t categories invented for a website. They were the areas of life demanding attention as I aged. The health conversations led to a Wellness Newsletter—not about chasing youth, but about building strength, energy, and sustainability after 50. Simple habits. Realistic routines. No extremes. The financial reflections became a Wealth Newsletter—focused on clarity, stewardship, and peace rather than accumulation or fear.
The stories—the memories, the failures, the quiet victories—became My Life in Posts, a way to capture moments before they slipped away. West Egg Living became less about building something new and more about integrating what life had already taught me. West Egg Living is not about pretending life gets easier. It’s about acknowledging that it gets clearer—if you let it. It’s not about biohacks, overnight success, or chasing relevance.
It’s about:
- Morning walks
- Honest conversations
- Enough sleep
- Strong relationships
- Financial margin
- Spiritual grounding
- Doing fewer things better
It’s about choosing intentional living in a culture addicted to urgency. And it’s about respecting the reality that by midlife, we’ve earned the right to slow down—not because we’re done, but because we’re wiser. I never sat down and clearly defined a demographic. In the beginning, I was all over the place with whom I thought I needed to be reaching. But over time, the audience found me.
They were people who:
- Had lived long enough to know hype when they saw it
- Had been burned by quick fixes
- Were tired of being marketed to like they were broken
- Wanted guidance that felt human, not performative
Mostly 50+. Some younger. A few older. All reflective. They weren’t looking to “optimize” life. They were looking to live it well. That realization shaped everything.
The Philosophy: Progress Over Perfection
If West Egg Living has a philosophy, it’s this:
Small, consistent choices matter more than dramatic change.
That belief shows up everywhere:
- In the Pyramid of Everyday Wellness
- In the newsletters
- In the way stories are told
- In the refusal to shout
It’s a philosophy shaped by lived experience, not theory. Because life has a way of humbling big plans and rewarding quiet faithfulness. West Egg Living is still becoming. That’s intentional. It’s not meant to be finished—it’s meant to grow alongside the life it reflects. As seasons change, so will the content. As priorities shift, so will the focus. But the foundation won’t change.
West Egg Living will remain a place for:
- Thoughtful living
- Honest reflection
- Practical wisdom
- And the belief that the second half of life can be not just meaningful—but deeply good
West Egg Living isn't the destination. It's simply the vehicle through which I hope to encourage others to live thoughtfully, intentionally, and gratefully. In many ways, it represents everything this memoir has been building toward. And yet, the greatest lesson of this season hasn't come from writing about life. It's come from living it.
