🌍 First Glimpse of the Middle East In early October 2000, Nate and I traveled to Bahrain. Back then, the base was tiny—basically a glorified parking lot with a fence—and guarded by Marines who looked like they were waiting to charge a hill and for someone to yell “Fix bayonets!” even though the tallest thing in sight was a palm tree. The whole place felt like a forward operating 7-Eleven convenience store: small, efficient, and staffed by people who took their jobs very seri

⚠️ Warning: This post contains unfiltered ADHD energy… proceed accordingly. As accurate now as it was a thousand years ago, men in the military have often missed the births of their children—sometimes one, sometimes several. I wasn’t any different, though my circumstances were… unique. I was unmarried, young, and convinced that one night of passion had just sentenced me to a lifetime of misery. My mom had warned me for years: “Travis, don’t let a night of passion lead to a li

From Then to Now: The Journey Starts Here It still blows my mind when I look at that side‑by‑side photo—wide‑eyed, brand‑new Sailor on the left, and the older, saltier version of me on the right. Nearly 26 years separate those two faces . Even crazier? The place where my Navy career began—Sicily, Italy—would also be the place where it ended. But this chapter isn’t about the finish line. This is about the starting gun. The moment everything kicked off. The beginning of a journ

My sister Toni once said,  “If Mom gets bored, she gets pissed—and it’s everyone’s fault.” Turns out, this isn’t just sibling shade. It’s a widely accepted truth among Mom’s inner circle. One afternoon on Mom and Super Dave’s expansive back patio, Toni casually dropped this observation. The Aperol Spritzes were flowing—courtesy of Dave, who was mixing drinks like a seasoned resort bartender—and within seconds, Mom’s girlfriends burst into laughter. Not one of them disagreed.

Remember when CrossFit exploded and suddenly everyone had that one friend who wouldn’t shut up about it? Like they were training for the Olympics in lunges and burpees? Annoying, right? Or maybe… You were that annoying person. Well, Pickleball is my mom’s CrossFit. She talks about it constantly. And honestly, I’m thrilled she’s found something active to dive into during her golden years—70-something and still swinging. She’s got all the gear: visor, paddle, wristbands, and he

I’m jumping off the map here—because I had an idea. A blog about my mom. Not just any blog, but one that captures her most hilarious, unfiltered moments. She has no idea I’m planning to “interview” her, but I’m determined to document her stories in full detail—from daily quirks to spontaneous trips down memory lane. Take, for example, the recent phone call. The Garage Wall Incident “Dave’s mad at me,” Mom said casually. “Apparently, I put a hole in the garage wall.” “Well, Mo

🌵  From Dust to Underwater Mines: How Las Cruces Pushed Me Into the Navy It was my senior year of high school in Las Cruces, New Mexico— The City of Crosses... and Crossed Signals , where even tumbleweeds get bored. My future looked about as bright as the sun during a thunderstorm. Let’s be real: I wasn’t, nor am I today, what you’d call a scholar. I lacked discipline, direction, and any real motivation beyond socializing with my friends and simply getting through the daily

The Infamous Trio and the Dozen That Followed Entering high school, I found my crew: Matt “Joker” McWilliams and Tim Davis   — three wild cards from Las Cruces who met through two-a-day football workouts. We were driven, headstrong, and bonded by a respect for each other and a shared instinct for mischief. Over the next four years, our trio would grow into a dozen — friends who shaped my teenage years with everything from mountain ambushes to Mexico nights. Matt was all pers

🌀Teenage Love, Cringe, and the Chaos of Growing Up I can't speak for everyone about their teenage years, but let’s be honest: no nostalgic stroll down memory lane is complete without cringing at the greatest hits of hormonal hijinks —first loves, failed flirtations, and dramatic episodes so embarrassing they deserve a viewer discretion warning. Unless you were born looking like an Abercrombie model or a lifeguard sculpted directly from Zeus’s biceps, odds are your teenage ye

From cutting class to show choir, my high school years were saved by music, mentors, and a little chaos. Diagnosed with dyslexia, I struggled—until three women believed in me, choir rewired my brain, and humor masked the fear. Shoutout to Cody, show choir, and the village that got me through. Stick around—this story’s just warming up.

🤔  Blood vs Family? I heard something recently that hit me straight in the heart: “One of the most important relationships you’ll ever have is with your siblings. They’ve been there from the beginning — and they’ll be there long after your parents are gone.” I don’t remember where I heard it. Wish I could credit it properly. But it made me look at Toni and Karl  differently. Toni and I were robbed of a shared childhood with Karl, but when I met him at 14, I claimed him as m

Unwelcome Shadows — A Family Tested Like many kids growing up in the 80s and 90s, divorce spread like the flu  — fast, disorienting, and everywhere. One minute you had a family unit, and the next you were dialing your best friend Cody on the only phone in the house: a wall-mounted rotary. It took ten minutes to crank out a phone number, and if you messed it up mid-dial? Hang up, start over. I still remember the moment I told Cody my parents were splitting. Funny thing — he’d

I’m not going in any particular order here — just peeling back the layers of my childhood and teen years growing up in New Mexico, one dusty memory at a time. Still figuring out this whole blog thing. But stories like this one beg to be told. One of my earliest hunting trips was with Grandpa William “Bill” Beach  and Uncle John , chasing mule deer in and around Cook’s Peak . We camped out for nearly a week, horses in tow, packed with food, gear… and snoring that could wake th

Born breech on 9/11/80, raised in dusty New Mexico by two unforgettable parents—one a musical, faith-filled wild man, the other a firecracker educator with diva energy. This blog is my story: full of chaos, love, and grit. From Navy life to writer life, I’m unpacking it all—loud, honest, and a little weird. Stick around. The good stuff’s just getting started.

Don’t be surprised if you find a halfway-decent storyteller with the grammar of a pirate and the flair of a road-trip philosopher. I won’t pretend to be polished. I'm dropping the hammer, driving fast, and taking chances. What I do know — after over two decades in the Navy — is that success doesn’t come from perfection. It stems from practice, repetition, and the determination to learn from failures.