Things Remembered - January 4, 2026

The Most Important New Year’s Resolution You’ll Make

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People often say you can’t go home again. In a sense, it’s true: Over time, we all change, as do the places that shaped us. When we return, it never feels exactly the same.

This idea, from an old Thomas Wolfe novel, captures something real, but I don’t think it tells the whole story. If you return with an open mind, going home can remind you of what mattered most back then. It can make it clear how much you’ve grown.

Recently, I had the chance to go “home” again. By home, I mean one of the places where my working life began: St. John’s Residence for Boys, a home in Rockaway Park, Queens, that has long supported young men through difficult circumstances.

The faces were different, and the buildings had changed. When I worked there, St. John’s was run by a group of live-in Marianist brothers. Today, the program operates in affiliation with Little Flower Children and Family Services of New York.

Yet as I walked the hallways and learned more about the program, it felt very familiar.

A place for second chances

For more than a century, St. John’s has held to its mission of helping boys regain their footing. In the early days, it served orphans. Later, its focus turned to young people navigating family instability, addiction, school challenges, or involvement with the court system.

That mission drew me there. I grew up in South Queens in a blue-collar neighborhood filled with tradespeople and police officers. I thought I might become one and was studying criminal justice while working nights as a bartender when a friend who worked at St. John’s invited me to come by for dinner one night.

By the end of that evening, he handed me a set of keys and asked if I could start immediately.

That first overnight shift turned into 14 years. I worked first as a live-in counselor and later ran programs on the campus in Rockaway Park. I lived alongside the boys, sharing meals, enforcing curfews, and getting through long days and nights.

Officially, I was a counselor. Only later did I understand how much I was being taught about people, responsibility, and the kind of work that stays with you long after the job ends.

Why relationships come first

One lesson I learned early involved the importance of relationships.

At St. John’s, one set of rules alone was never enough. Every boy was different, and each required a different approach. I learned that through a boy named Joe, who was withdrawn and volatile if anyone crossed an invisible line. No one touched or got close to him.

Instead of keeping my distance, I invested in the relationship. I made a point of seeking Joe out and messing up his carefully combed hair, something no one else dared to do. He would protest, storm off to fix it, and return calmer. That ritual showed him that I respected him and wasn’t afraid. Once that trust existed, everything else became manageable.

During my visit, I thought about the gifting business I had built and realized I’d been applying the same lesson. My job wasn’t just selling gifts but also earning trust, understanding what mattered to people, and finding a connection.

Learning outside the classroom

At St. John’s, learning has always happened throughout its campus, not just in classrooms. That’s true for the boys and the people who work there.

During my recent visit, staff shared stories from the days after Hurricane Sandy. With the campus on a narrow spit on the south shore of Long Island, flooding caused serious damage, and one building remains vacant today. Through it all, the staff’s focus stayed on keeping the boys safe.

Those stories brought back memories of fires, power outages, and a boiler that failed in the middle of winter. With no immediate replacement, we figured out how to keep it running and the building warm.

That same “all hands on deck” thinking shapes how St. John’s approaches education today. When architects, surveyors, or contractors come on site, time is set aside for the boys to understand the job and get involved. Work becomes the lesson.

Owning your story

As my visit was coming to an end, I had lunch with several of the boys. It gave me the chance to share something I learned years ago from my boss, Brother Tom, about the labels we all carry.

I didn’t need to explain the idea to them. Many of the labels they live with are familiar ones: troubled, at risk, and behind, to name a few. What St. John’s has always understood is that a label does not have to be the end of the story.

What matters, I told them, is how you choose to continue the story from here. You can let a label limit you, or you can decide what comes next. Setbacks can stop feeling like endings and start feeling like material for the story still being written.

While telling that story, I felt right at home. In fact, it was almost like I had never left.

All the best,

In this week’s Power & Impact, I sit down with Armando Pantoja, an investor, technologist, and thought leader who has spent his career spotting inflection points before they become obvious.

Armando’s story is a study in reinvention. He went from playing professional basketball in Puerto Rico to becoming a software engineer, and eventually to building businesses at the center of the crypto economy. Along the way, he learned the value of starting early, learning quickly from failure, and staying flexible when the path forward isn’t always clear.

We talk about the realities behind cryptocurrency hype and what most people misunderstand about Bitcoin and blockchain technology. Our conversation also looks at the future of work. As AI reshapes careers, Armando offers this advice: Don’t panic, don’t retreat, and don’t wait to learn the tools and position yourself ahead of change.

I can’t stop thinking about Armando’s point: In a world moving this fast, adaptability is the difference between keeping up and being left behind. What do you think? Share your thoughts here.

A prescription for grandparents

The day after Christmas, I came across an Instagram post that made this grandfather of seven smile. It backed up something I’ve believed for a long time: Time with your grandchildren is good for your health.

According to the post, studies show that regular visits can lower depression, keep your mind sharp, and even help you live longer. Apparently, sitting on the floor, answering endless questions, and laughing more than you planned to all count as preventive medicine.

Naturally, I felt it was my duty to share this very important research with our kids — right after the stockings were emptied and the sugar had fully kicked in.

Within minutes, one of them texted back, “I can drop them off now if you need some medicinal support.”

Marylou and I couldn’t agree more: As prescriptions go, it doesn’t get any better!

The power of a simple question

One of my favorite moments this Christmas came after dessert. As the adults were chatting around the table, my son-in-law Joe asked the kids a simple question: What’s something silly that you can’t do?

The answers were quite entertaining. Some can’t wink with just one eye. Others can’t wiggle their ears. A few discovered they were unable to make the Vulcan greeting sign with their hands. Before long, the adults joined in and learned we had our own limitations.

There was a ton of laughter, and it was a wonderful way to end a beautiful day. It also showed how powerful a question can be.

Questions are also useful if you’re stuck figuring out your New Year’s resolutions. Over the holidays, I also read a short piece in The New York Times that framed year-end reflection around a few focused questions: When did you feel most at ease? What gave you energy? What challenge did you manage to get through?

As we enter the new year, I find that approach appealing. Resolutions don’t always need to be fully formed. Sometimes one thoughtful question, asked with curiosity and a little humility, is enough to point us in the right direction.