Watching the World Change Shape

I grew up watching college football with my dad, back when you knew the teams, the conferences, the coaches, and the players—and bowl season felt like something you waited for, not something you scrolled past.

I rooted for Florida teams by geography. Michigan had the coolest fight song. Notre Dame was pretty cool too—they had shiny gold helmets… and Joe Montana.

It was an era.

A good one.

Then everything shifted.

College football turned into free agency with helmets. Media became clickbait. Writing became visibility instead of voice. Music got shorter. Attention spans got thinner. And somehow people started making real money playing video games and dancing online while the rest of us were still trying to figure out what the hell the gig economy even was.

By day, I make my living as a writer. I’ve lived through the slow migration from print to digital, from storytelling to algorithms, from craft to clicks and conversions. Somewhere along the way, I’ve become a reluctant curmudgeon—not angry at change, just trying to understand it without becoming bitter… or pretending I love everything simply because it’s new.

I live on Merritt Island, on Florida’s Space Coast, where rocket launches interrupt beach walks and The Jetsons feel less like a cartoon and more like a user manual. I write with island-casual ease, gentle humor, and just enough wonder to notice the patterns, ironies, and truths that tend to sneak past us when we’re rushing.

I’m also a Jesus Freak—not the loud kind, not the judgmental kind, and definitely not the kind with an ax to grind. I believe in the sweetness of Jesus. In a Christ who listens more than lectures, loves without shaming, and leaves room for questions. Faith shows up in my writing the same way it shows up in my life: honestly, humbly, and without any pressure for others to agree or follow the same path.

So every now and then, I’ll post a few random observations from the perspective of a reluctant island curmudgeon.

Reluctant Island Curmudgeon (n.) A middle-aged writer, lifelong sports fan, and beach-dwelling observer of a world that seems to have changed faster than he did—and didn’t bother to explain itself along the way.

These essays will wander wherever curiosity leads: sports, work, money, music, media, technology, aging, creativity, faith, and what it feels like to live long enough to watch the world reinvent itself more than once.

I’ll poke fun at the new stuff. I’ll poke even more fun at myself. And I’ll keep trying to choose curiosity over contempt every damn time.

I’m not yelling at the clouds.

I’m sitting beneath them, watching them change shape, wondering what they’re trying to teach me about time, grace, and us.

If that sounds like your kind of conversation, pull up a beach chair… or a barstool at the tiki bar.

The next round’s on perspective.