Rooted in Wisconsin. Growing Forward in Texas.
When I first came to Austin, it felt like a small-town city with heart. It was a blend of the quaintness I felt in Milwaukee, mixed with the vibe you get in Madison, where university life and state government collide. The energy, the nightlight, the music and the Texan friendliness combined with tough love and grit — it all felt oddly like home. Austin had a lot of the parts of Wisconsin that I’d grown to love.
My first few experiences in Austin were nothing short of awesome. My very first visit was back in 2010 for a wedding along Lady Bird Lake for a close friend of mine, a true-hearted Texan I’d worked with at Accenture. It was one of the most elegant weddings I’d ever attended, and somehow it ended with late-night stacks of Popeye’s sandwiches.
A few years later, I came back for the full SXSW experience, and I was hooked. The music, the energy, the way Austin merged technology, progress, music, and art. Cowboys and coders. Barbecue smoke and innovation. It all somehow worked. I remember my first run around Lady Bird Lake, a perfect blend of an expanse of nature in the city. A bit of zen and presence, a feeling that has stuck with me through a thousand runs since.
Around that same time, I was courting Whole Foods Market. At first, it was through my role in a start-up trying to partner with them. But as I dug in to understand the company, something clicked. After years in consulting, I’d grown skeptical that you could “do good” in the corporate world and actually mean it. Then I read John Mackey’s Conscious Capitalism and started meeting the people who lived that philosophy every day.
Whole Foods embodied the idea that business could be a force for good: for community, for people, for the planet. The more I got to know the company, the more I saw how Whole Foods and Austin reflected one another: authentic, entrepreneurial, idealistic, and human.
A lot has changed since I joined in 2014. I left two years ago, and while I’m grateful for everything I learned, especially Whole Foods’ Conscious Leadership Principles. I also really value the lived application I got through the “Amazon ways of working,” which sharpened how I lead and deliver. Still, the Austin-based culture of those early years feels different now. The vibe has shifted. It’s not bad… just new.
And the same could be said for Austin itself.
In the last decade, growth and change have reshaped this city in ways few could have imagined. Progress, development, the steady flow of people moving here from every corner of the country (myself included) have all left their mark. Long-time residents have stories to tell, and I get it. The small-city charm, the music scene, the weird quirkiness; it’s still here, but you have to look a little harder to find it.
You find it in the neighborhoods, the mom-and-pop restaurants, and the local artists still doing their thing. Austin hasn’t lost its soul… it’s just buried a little deeper under the cranes and condos.
But here’s where my dilemma as a parent comes in. Austin is still an incredible city, full of heart, diversity, opportunity, and creativity. But raising kids here feels more complicated than I expected.
I want my kids to have some of the same experiences like I had in Slinger, Wisconsin. A small-town life where you could play every sport, join the band, explore the arts, and stay active. A place where you learned teamwork, accountability, and compassion from community leaders and neighbors who looked out for one another.
Big-city schools are different. And in Texas, everything really is bigger. When my kids reach high school, their public-school experience in Austin will look more like college than the community classrooms I grew up in.
Texas currently ranks near the bottom in both education quality (42nd) and school funding (41st). Numbers don’t tell the whole story, but they do make me pause, and hope we can start trending in a better direction.
For my friends back home in Wisconsin, it’s hard to describe just how big Texas really is. Travis County, where Austin sits, has roughly 1.3 million people; about the same as Milwaukee County. My home county in Wisconsin (Washington County) has 1/10th of that population (140,000).
And that’s just one example of a handful of cities in Texas. Harris County (Houston) alone has more than 5 million residents. That’s a population larger than 38 other U.S. states. Bigger isn’t always better, especially when it comes to raising kids.
That scale in size is what inspired a project I’m helping with at the Texas Forward Party spotlighting all 254 counties across the state of Texas, to show how different, and yet connected, our communities really are. Here’s the very first write-up we did: Harris County vs. Loving County. Check it out and let me know what you think! One size definitely doesn’t fit all — and that’s what makes Texas both incredible and challenging.
But it is what also reminds me that it takes a village.
Good schools are important, but what truly shapes a child’s life are the adults who show up: parents, mentors, coaches, volunteers, and neighbors who invest their time and care.
Growing up, my mom was that person. She poured herself into our family and well being. It was a full-time job, unpaid, at times unseen, but essential. In 2019, someone who has had a big impact on me (more on that in the future) described mothers as “the most underpaid workers in our economy,” and it stuck with me. Because the time, love, and teaching that parents (especially mothers) invest shape not just their kids, but the future we all share.
It’s given me a deeper appreciation for my mom, my wife, all the mothers I know, and for every teacher, coach, and volunteer who keeps showing up for the next generation.
And in that spirit of parent leaders, I was talking with another Scout leader after church last week, who said he came to the realization that the best way he could contribute, to make the world better, was by investing his time to teach his boys and other scouts along the way. He felt the pull to put in extra time and late nights. It was his way to make an impact, instill values, share skills and help our future generations.
And if my kids are going to thrive in a big city, in a big state, I now realize I need to help build more of a small-town community around them.
And as a related aside finding/resetting purpose, this was a tough week for a lot of my friends and colleagues at Whole Foods, Amazon, and other companies across the U.S. My heart goes out to those impacted; and also to those left behind that are asked to step up and carry even more of the load.Change is never easy. And in the few conversations I’ve had, the uncertainty of where things are headed, here in the U.S. and around the world, makes it even harder. Some feel like everything’s unraveling; others feel like change can’t come soon enough. Either way, when you’re facing job loss or tough choices about your career, it’s hard to see the path forward.
In moments like this, when our communities and our kids need love and support more than ever, I want to share one more thought, something I’ve tried to internalize myself.
Not everyone fits neatly into gender profiles, but studies have shown a clear pattern. When women find themselves between jobs or with unexpected free time, they’re more likely to fill that time staying busy: volunteering, helping friends, supporting schools, getting involved in church or community.
Men (i.e. my cohort), on the other hand, tend to pour their energy into job hunting, screens, and solitary tasks. And when that search stretches on, isolation often creeps in. We become more likely to disconnect: to retreat into TV, video games, or other habits (gambling, drinking, etc.) that fill time but not the heart.
I’ve been there. After leaving my role, it took me a couple of months to plug back into the real world, and nearly a year to find my rhythm again. What made the difference was people. Being around others. It also helped working with a client that takes volunteering and activism to a whole new level.
So if you’re reading this and going a little stir-crazy staring at job boards and devices, give yourself permission to step away. Go outside. Call a friend. Find a place to serve. Because connection, real human connection, is the first step to rebuilding purpose. And if you're around Austin, in need of some in real life (IRL) connection, hit me up and we'll grab a coffee.
In closing, yes, Austin is still home. I still love its energy, its creativity, its heart. But the Austin I fell in love with a decade ago isn’t the same city I’m raising my kids in today. Maybe that’s okay. Places evolve, expectations and needs evolve. It definitely takes a village, and I look forward to leaning more into my community now that I've had more time to appreciate the things my family values most.
Family first. Humanity first. Neighbors first.
No comments:
Post a Comment