Jeff stopped me mid-sentence and said, “I’m going to share something you told me  30 years ago.”

Earlier this week I got a message from an old friend and former college roommate. We’d been teammates on the University of Kansas water ski team. He lives in Chicago now with his wife and three daughters.

I hadn’t seen him since my wedding—over 20 years ago. Back then he and his now-wife were just dating and had no kids. He was coming to Dallas on business and asked if we could catch up before his meetings.

I was really close to him during graduate school, so I was excited to see him. But I wondered what it would be like after 30 years…so much time, and after everyone has scattered, changed, built their own lives. It left me wondering: What will he look like? What has he been doing? How has he grown and matured—or not?

But from the moment he arrived, it was as if no time had passed. He looked almost exactly the same, aside from a few gray hairs (He claimed they were courtesy of his three daughters). He kindly shared similar comments about me.

We spent the afternoon eating BBQ at a local restaurant, showing off our small Texas town, and driving through Lone Oak—where he insisted on a selfie with El Chapo. We talked about old ski tournaments, former roommates and teammates, faith, family, work, finances, the future… and how our younger decisions shaped who we’ve become. It was an afternoon well spent.

Truly trustworthy friends are rare. Jeff has never been one to judge. He cares about meaningful relationships and wants people to feel good about where they are in life—failures and successes included. At one point, I mentioned the number of failures I feel I’ve had to work through to get where I am. I must have said it in a way that sounded like regret.

Jeff stopped me mid-sentence and said, “I’m going to share something you told me  30 years ago.”
I had no idea what he was about to say.

“We’re always making the best decisions we know how to make with the information we have at the time.” 

Immediately, I thought of my dad. (My siblings reading this are thinking the same thing.) It was one of his go-to lines. He probably shared it with me for the first time when I was around 10.

What struck me wasn’t just that Jeff remembered something I said decades ago—it was his ability to pull meaningful moments forward and use them to encourage. That’s a gift.

Make no mistake—Jeff isn't perfect..but he has done well in life. He has a beautiful marriage with children..and semi-retired at 50. He’s charismatic, hardworking and driven. But he’s also the same guy I knew 30 years ago. His desire to help people live to their fullest capability is rare.

If he had a life motto, it would be:

No failures — everything had to happen for you to get to this space.
No regrets — make the best decision you can with the information you have today.

Try living like that. Life feels lighter.

As my family and I sat at dinner last night, I kept thinking about our time together. Jeff is still authentic, driven, encouraging, and committed to helping others live every day like it might be their last.

Hearts rarely change.

Here’s to old friends who never really grow old.

Remain Encouraged,
Brian