It’s no secret, like a lot of people, I’m in a transitional phase right now.

 

And the other day after finally launching my website, I found myself filled with nervous energy.

 

So, I did what I often do in that situation, I “organize” my apartment.

The target this time - my bedding.

 

It’s summer and time to swap my duvets for lighter blankets, but when I went to put them in a chest in the hallway, a long-wobbly leg finally gave way and broke off.

 

Now this chest has been a little wonky for years - but today battling a little anxiety and with time on my hands, I was going to repair it - properly. Which meant starting by emptying it.

 

The chest has two small drawers at the bottom, and I thought I knew what was in them. One contained random office supplies. But the other contained something else entirely.

 

I realized I hadn’t opened a drawer - I had opened a time capsule.

 

As I reached in and started pulling things out, I immediately knew what I was looking at.

 

“Oh! This is where all this is!”

 

I scooped it up and laid it all out to take a closer look.

 

Production books. Call sheets. Pitch decks. Creative briefs. Style guides. Notepads. Meeting notes.

 

And not from just one era - NBC. Bravo. Oxygen. Wendy.

 

The better part of my career now spread across my bed.

 

I was reconnected with a notebook from my early days at Wendy - "T Bell" written on the front in marker. Looking through the pages, I realized it was from the very first days when I started my journey there, and the notes inside were from the first off-site meeting I attended. Reading the thoughts back now, I could see myself learning the brand in real time.

 

I found production books from campaigns that eventually came to life. I found strategy documents, scripts, graphic examples, and reminders of projects I hadn't thought about in years - or maybe forgot altogether. So much work from so many talented people I had been lucky enough to team up with through the years.

 

Then, two things stopped me.

 

The first was given to me by my first mentor (and the person who gave me my start in this business). It was a small yellow notebook.  I remember getting it all those years ago.

 

The pages were all blank, but the cover wasn’t.

On it just three words - CREATE. EVERY DAY.

 

Flipping through and seeing all my random handwritten ideas now – some nothing, some that had become major pieces of my portfolio – I was filled with emotion.

 

“Hi, old friend”.

 

And the second thing that got me was my Wendy clipboard.

I had carried that clipboard on set and around the office almost every day for six years. Scripts. Promo copy. Notes. Grids. Rundowns. It was with me through countless shoots, launches, meetings, and moments that sometimes felt monotonous - and sometimes monumental.

 

Standing there holding it again, I wondered, “Why the hell did I keep all of this?!”

 

Then it hit me.

 

At the time, I never knew what I would eventually DO with any of it.

But I knew one thing - I knew it had VALUE.

 

That's the part that struck me. I could feel it – literally – in my hands.
Not some word document or video file or jpeg in a cloud.

 

Most of these artifacts survived multiple moves. They traveled from Los Angeles to New York. They occupied valuable closet and drawer space in apartments where every square inch mattered. I paid New York City rent to store this stuff!

 

And yet I never threw it away.

 

Not because I had a plan.

Not because I knew I’d be building a website one day.

Not because I imagined writing blogs about any of it.

 

I kept it because some part of me believed these things MATTERED - long before I understood WHY.

 

Nothing groundbreaking here, I know. We all have keepsakes. We all have a shelf, a box, a drawer. But here’s what I’d offer.

 

Over the past month building my website, I've spent a lot of time looking back at my career. I've revisited decades of past campaigns, photos, projects, and lessons.

 

And I’ve remembered and discovered so much.

 

But what I didn't expect is this - that forgotten drawer reminded me of something that’s maybe sometimes easy to forget.

 

Value isn't always obvious in the moment.

 

Sometimes we recognize it before we understand it.

Sometimes we carry it with us for years before we know what it's for.

And sometimes the things we preserve end up telling us something about ourselves that we always knew.

 

The stories weren't in the drawer. The PROOF was.

 

Proof that the experiences mattered.

Proof that the lessons mattered.

Proof that the stories were always there waiting to be told.

 

These are my REAL memories, now holding value for me here in the REAL world.
And with so much going on in the world right now, it just feels right to share them.

 

So - I’m starting with this story.

The story of a broken leg on a chest that held way more value than I knew.

 

Because at least for me - sometimes when life closes a door, it opens a drawer.