As a young boy, I knew if I was going to talk during the Super Bowl, it better not be during the commercials. I didn't understand why, but I knew to put down my Franklin mini hockey stick when there was a break in play. I was enthralled by those ads. They were funny, they were sad– they were anything but dull. All the talk during the game was not who was winning the game, but who was winning the ad-meter. Such was life when you’re born into a family of Effie winning advertisers. 

It’s in my blood, if you will. Here’s a few other things that are too…

My Mom wanted to name me Jesse, my Dad wanted to name me Tyler.  They went to a Blockbuster, parked outside, and if a man walked out I’d be Jesse, and if a woman walked out I’d be Tyler. You get the rest. 

Treat motivated– I was taught to skate by a family friend who strapped rollerblades to my chubby feet and held a chocolate covered pretzel in front of me shortly after I learned to walk. Fast forward to high school and I had the hardest slapshot east of the Mississippi. Don’t look that up, just take my word for it. 

My dog Hammer by my side— preferably always (no one I love or care about will ever die).

Filthy boots, corduroys when it’s probably too hot out, a Hanes tank top and somebody’s Grandfather’s button down.

Squinting because it’s too sunny and I forgot my sunglasses. Of course I forgot my sunglasses.

A lover and a fighter.

Always curious. Curiosity never hurt anybody. Except the cat. It definitely hurt the cat.

I’m not above anything and have the calluses to prove it. Will furnish upon request. 

Still haven’t located the “off-switch”.

The best decision your company has ever made. And no, I didn’t take that from Tom Brady. he took it from me.

Anyhow, enough about me…