I wear my forklift keys and St. Christopher chain around my neck every day.
One is a reminder of where I come from—the dock, the fire, the work that doesn’t move unless you move it.
The other is a reminder of what protects me when the world goes insane.
Years back in Kansas City, I walked onto a dock with my boss and straight into a scene out of Hoffa. A Teamsters BA and SOA were waiting—furious about scab operators. My boss didn’t even know if he’d ordered them. I had to step in.
Because of my lineage, my connections, and my ability to communicate, I figured out the other guy with his name had made the call. That day, I walked out with the KC Teamsters as allies. Later, I shook hands with the CEO of one of the biggest fast-food chains in the world. Both rooms. Same day.
That’s where my crazy shows up—in the fire. It’s hard for me a lot of times to take minor things seriously. People leadership is hard, it’s like having hundred kids. I didn’t want any of them. Now they’re the only thing that keeps me going. Sure ain’t Bama.
Morgan Wallen said it best: “I’m a little crazy, but the world’s insane.”
The world hurls chaos, and my crazy catches it before it burns the whole dock down. That’s why it feels like I’ll always be anchored here. We’re the conduit—between underworld and overworld, dock and boardroom, freight line and skyline. More important than anyone dares admit. We’ve seen the future.
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