Photograph
Photograph
In a couple of weeks, I'll finally get to see Ed Sheeran live.
I know there will be a lot of songs that hit home, but I already know Photograph is going to stop me in my tracks.
Not because it reminds me of a relationship.
Because it reminds me of all the photographs that never existed.
The first date that never happened.
The walk after school.
The simple "hello" I never found the courage to say.
The photograph at the top of this page isn't a memory.
It's a symbol.
It's the photograph that never had the chance to be taken.
For years, that picture existed only in my imagination a quiet "what if" that lived in my heart far longer than it ever lived in reality.
I think that's why Photograph speaks to me so deeply.
Sometimes the most powerful photographs aren't the ones hanging on our walls.
They're the ones we carried inside our hearts because we were too afraid to create them when we had the chance.
Twenty years ago, growing up in Mound, Minnesota, there was a girl exactly one week younger than me.
We walked the halls of Grandview Middle School (today Westonka Middle School)before graduating from Mound Westonka High School (now Westonka High School) with the Class of 2010.
Long before she ever knew it, she quietly found a place in my heart.
But I was too shy to say hello.
Years later, life gave me one more chance.
We talked.
One day she told me something I'll never forget.
"You should've talked to me when we were kids."
She was right.
It's one of the biggest regrets of my life.
But she also told me something else I'll never forget.
She loved hearing my stories.
The places I'd been.
The adventures I'd taken.
The dreams I carried.
For someone who spent so much of his life wondering if anyone truly cared what was in my heart, those words meant more than she'll probably ever know.
One conversation especially stayed with me.
She told me how much Germany meant to her because of the love her grandparents had passed down for their heritage.
A few years later, I found myself standing on tables inside the beer tents at Munich's Frühlingsfest, singing with a ton of Germans and laughing with complete strangers.
And for just a moment...
I smiled.
Because I knew she would've loved being there.
Not because I wished I could change the past.
Simply because beautiful memories have a way of reminding us of beautiful people.
That moment didn't make me look backward.
It inspired me to keep moving forward.
So I did.
I explored the world.
I spent a month in Australia.
Walked through castles.
Crossed countries by train.
Met incredible people.
Collected stories I never imagined I'd have.
Every journey helped shape the person I was becoming.
Then came one freezing January night in Washington, D.C.
Standing outside Capital One Arena in one of the coldest inauguration nights in decades, I thought I was simply waiting to witness history.
I had no idea history was quietly changing me.
Five words left my mouth.
President Donald Trump turned.
First Lady Melania Trump turned.
Letters from the White House followed.
A journey that eventually found its way into the National Archives.
The shy trumpet player who couldn't say hello in the halls of Grandview Middle School somehow ended up with a story that's now helping inspire future students through the Westonka School District—the same community in Mound, Minnesota, where my own story began.
If you had told that kid this would happen...
He never would've believed you.
On January 10th, I launched this website.
It's the story of a journey that began in Mound, Minnesota, carried me around the world, and reminded me that sometimes the longest journeys lead us back to where our story first began.
Over the last several months, I've poured every chapter of my heart into it.
The victories.
The mistakes.
The regrets.
The lessons.
It no longer belongs only to me.
People from around the world have read it, but I especially hope one shy kid whether they're growing up in Westonka or somewhere halfway around the world finds the courage to use their voice, choose love over hate, or simply say hello.
Because if this story helps even one person find that courage...
Then every difficult chapter was worth it.
Today, I finally feel like I've told my whole story.
There isn't anything left to hide.
Now I simply get to live whatever comes next.
I'd be lying if I said my heart never thinks about the girl who quietly found a place in it twenty years ago.
Sometimes it still does.
Not with anger.
Not with resentment.
Only with gratitude.
She unknowingly taught me one of the greatest lessons of my life.
You can't force people.
You can't force love.
You can't force timing.
The most meaningful chapters are the ones that unfold naturally.
I hope she's doing well.
I hope life has been kind to her.
And I hope she knows that our conversations changed me more than she'll probably ever realize.
As for the future...
I leave that to fate.
Maybe one day I'll meet a woman who wants to sit across the dinner table and simply ask,
"So... tell me your story."
I'll smile.
Maybe I'll tell her about Australia.
About Germany.
About castles and trains.
About the freezing night in Washington that changed everything.
Maybe, somewhere in the middle of that conversation, I'll quietly slide a hand-signed letter from the President across the table.
Not because a letter is what matters.
But because it's proof that an ordinary person can live an extraordinary story by choosing courage when fear feels easier.
And if she smiles...
I hope it isn't because of the places I've been.
I hope it isn't because a journey eventually found its way into the National Archives.
I hope it isn't because my story is now helping inspire future students through the Westonka School District.
I hope it's because she'll see something far more important.
A shy kid from Mound, Minnesota, who finally found his voice.
Someone who learned that love isn't about holding on.
It's about growing.
It's about forgiveness.
It's about choosing hope when bitterness would be easier.
Maybe that's what Photograph has meant to me all along.
Not wishing I could go back and take the photographs that never happened...
But being grateful that I finally found the courage to create the ones that did.
If there's one thing I hope the next generation takes away from my story, it's this:
Don't wait twenty years to say hello.
Tell people you care about them.
Take the trip.
Say yes to the opportunity.
Love people while you have the chance.
Because you never know which ordinary day will become the photograph that changes your life forever.
Whether you're walking the halls of Westonka Middle School, Westonka High School, or growing up somewhere else in the world, courage has a way of changing lives in ways you could never imagine.
As for me...
My story has finally been told.
The rest belongs to tomorrow.
I'll keep my heart open.
I'll keep exploring.
I'll keep loving out loud.
And I'll keep believing that the greatest photographs of our lives aren't always the ones we planned...
They're the ones we never saw coming.
BONUS — TONIGHT, “PHOTOGRAPH” BECAME REAL
When I originally wrote this page, seeing Ed Sheeran live was still a couple of weeks away.
Tonight, August 15, 2026, at U.S. Bank Stadium in Minneapolis, I finally heard him sing “Photograph.”
And just as I expected, it stopped me in my tracks.
As thousands of us sang along, I held up my phone and recorded the moment. But my mind wasn't really on the video I was making.
I was thinking about the photographs that never existed.
The school dance I was too shy to ask her to.
The first date that never happened.
The pictures two kids from Mound, Minnesota, might have taken together if one painfully shy boy had simply found the courage to walk up to a pretty girl at Grandview Middle School or Mound Westonka High School and say hello.
I'll never know what would have happened.
Years later, she told me I should have talked to her when we were kids.
She was right.
Tonight, hearing “Photograph” live, I let myself wonder about that for a moment. Not because I want to rewrite the past, but because some unanswered questions stay quietly tucked inside your heart.
Then I realized the beautiful irony of what was happening.
While I was thinking about all those photographs that were never taken, I was creating a new one.
I was standing inside U.S. Bank Stadium, singing Ed Sheeran's “Photograph” with thousands of people, living another chapter that the shy kid from Mound never could have imagined.
I've learned that life doesn't give us the photographs we missed.
It gives us opportunities to create new ones.
I can't go back and tell that kid to take the chance.
But I can honor him by never again being so afraid of what might happen that I forget to live what is happening.
So yes, tonight I thought about what could have been.
But when the song ended, my heart wasn't stuck twenty years in the past.
It was grateful for tonight—and hopeful for all the photographs that haven't been taken yet.
Maybe the most beautiful one is still waiting for me. ❤️
The Joker and the Queen
If Photograph is the story of the moments that never happened...
Then The Joker and the Queen is the story of everything those moments taught me.
For a long time, I thought love was simply caring enough.
Life showed me it asks for something even greater.
Patience.
Respect.
Trust.
The willingness to let another person choose their own path.
If I could tell her one thing after all these years, it would simply be this.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry I didn't understand that sometimes the kindest thing you can give another person is space.
I'm sorry I came on too strong.
Back then, my heart was sincere, but it still had so much to learn.
You once told me something I'll never forget.
"You should've talked to me when we were kids."
You were right.
Maybe that's why the photograph above has always lived in my heart.
It isn't a memory.
It's the childhood I always wished we had shared.
A shy boy sitting beside a pretty little girl in middle school band, too afraid to say hello.
There was always one little detail I could never forget.
My birthday is November 16.
Yours is November 23.
Just seven days apart.
One week.
It's funny how something so small stayed with me for all these years.
Somehow, those seven days always felt smaller than the distance my own fear created between us.
You stole my heart long before I ever found the courage to tell you.
And even after all these years...
Even after life carried us in different directions...
Even after our paths crossed again and then drifted apart...
I never forgot the pretty little girl who sat beside me.
Not because I was holding on to the past.
But because some people quietly become part of your story before they ever realize it.
When we finally talked years later, you told me you loved hearing my stories.
I don't know if you ever realized what those words meant to me.
For someone who spent so much of his life wondering whether anyone cared what was in his heart, they became something I carried with me around the world.
Thank you.
Not just for the conversation.
But for the lesson.
You unknowingly helped me become someone who finally understands that the greatest relationships can never be forced.
They grow.
Quietly.
Naturally.
In their own time.
That's why this song means so much to me.
In many ways, I do feel like the joker.
Not because I think less of myself.
But because I know how much I still had to learn.
And every queen deserves to be treated like one—with patience, respect, kindness, and the freedom to choose her own story.
If fate ever allows our paths to cross again someday, it won't be because I'm trying to rewrite ours.
I'd simply love the chance to hear about the life you've lived and, maybe, share mine.
If that day never comes...
That's okay too.
Because life has taught me to leave tomorrow in the hands of fate.
Maybe one day another woman will simply smile and ask,
"So... tell me your story."
If that happens, I'll gladly open the book.
Not because of the places I've been.
Not because of a letter from the President.
Not because my journey found its way into the National Archives.
But because every chapter—both the joyful ones and the painful ones—helped shape the person I've become.
Until then...
I'll keep my heart open.
I'll keep exploring.
I'll keep loving out loud.
And I'll keep believing that the greatest stories aren't the ones we force into existence...
They're the ones that unfold when two people choose to walk toward each other.
The rest...
I leave to fate.
