27 years ago, on this day, I cried.

It was 2 p.m., and they were happy tears. I rarely cry — and especially not in front of a couple hundred people. But that afternoon, I did.

As Jess walked down the aisle, everything else faded. Just her, just us, just the moment. And, well… I lost it.

This morning, she sent me a note: Love you and will always be walking towards you.

Uh-oh. My eyes are sweating again.

There’s something about this day.

3-7-98.

I’ve always loved tech. 

I remember the first time I played Pong on an Atari. Mind-blowing. Suddenly, I had games in my bedroom. No more stuffing my pockets with quarters for the arcade.

A lot has changed since then. Just today, I spent hours in a virtual conference exploring AI’s best business applications.

Which got me thinking about my technology journey. Here’s what shaped me, in order:

Viewfinder (as a kid, this was cutting-edge)
Atari
Apple IIe
Walkman
CD boombox
Internet
DVDs
TiVo
iPod
Smartphone
Artificial Intelligence

And now, the robots are here. So, what’s next... Holograms? Time portals? Star Trek transporters?

If the machines do take over, I’m ready with my Atari Space Invaders skills.

My city got slammed with a powerful storm today. Howling winds, pounding rain.

Then, with a crack, a massive tree crashed into the yard. A heart-stopping moment. Miraculously, it missed the house by inches and landed right beside our windows.

That’s three trees down in four years. And somehow, each one has fallen to the side, sparing our home.

Another close call.

And if you read yesterday’s blog… well, let’s just say it’s been that kind of week.

Tonight, we received the news that a family member was injured in an accident.

It was serious. Just a few inches, a split second, and it could have been much worse.

There’s something about close calls that jolt me out of taking each day for granted. I’m reminded of the fragility of life. How things can flip upside down in a heartbeat. And how so much of what I worry about is trivial.

In these moments, I’m thankful for the steady strength of loved ones. How we come together and carry each other when the world feels heavy, when the hours grow dark.

Maybe close calls are life’s way of whispering, Cherish The Now.

My first marketing job came with a mission: meet a rep from every local media platform.

And I did. Radio, TV, print, outdoor, direct mail — my calendar overflowed. I built great relationships with most, and a few became longtime friends.

Dan was one of them. From our initial lunch, we clicked. We talked about everything: his passion for family, his motorcycle adventures, and his beloved Atlanta Braves.

Then life happened. I moved, changed positions. We lost touch and a decade slipped by.

One afternoon, as I worked in my office, an unexpected face appeared around the corner. Dan.

For an hour, we caught up and laughed. Before he left, we promised to keep in contact.

A few months later, I received the gut-punch news. Dan had died from cancer. A mutual colleague told me I was part of Dan’s secret “goodbye” tour — one final visit to his friends. He never said a word about being sick.

That was ten years ago.

Today, I heard from a rep at his old company. The memories rushed back. For a moment, I just sat there, lost in them.

Dan.

Then I smiled and whispered to myself:

Go Braves.