Happy New Year, Wake Forest.
It is January 1, 2026. We have officially entered a monumental year. As we march toward July 4th, the United States will turn 250 years old.
I didn’t spend last night watching the ball drop in a crowded bar or at a loud party. I spent it sitting with my grandfather, Harold.
Grandpa Harold turns 100 this August. When he was born, the United States was just 150 years old. Last night, as we waited for the new year, he opened up to me about the century he has lived.
He talked about the battle to liberate Luzon from the Japanese in World War II, and what it was like to go ashore in Japan as part of the post-war occupation. He spoke not with the brashness of someone trying to prove a point, but with the quiet reflection of a man who knows the cost of freedom.
But the most remarkable part of Harold’s life isn’t the war; it’s what he did when he came home. He moved to Greensboro and didn’t just live there—he built it. When the veterans of his generation needed a place to gather, they didn’t wait for someone else to do it. The founding members of the American Legion Post in Guilford College met in the basement of the house Harold still lives in today.
For 80 years, he has been a pillar of his community. He is a lifelong Episcopalian who has served his church faithfully since returning from the Pacific theater. He is a true Southern Gentleman—kind, loving, empathetic, fair, and generous. He believes in the American Way: truth, justice, and equality for all.
Sitting there with him, I realized that our lives intertwine across the ages. I am a 12th-generation American; he is the bridge to our modern history. I served in Iraq; he served in the Pacific. And when I look at him, I see the blueprint.
The Duty I Owe
Why do I write Wake Forest Matters? Why do I—as the sole founder, editor, and writer of this publication—spend my time digging through public records and sitting in town meetings?
I do it because of men like Harold.
Harold lives in Greensboro, but the lesson of his life applies right here in Wake Forest. He taught me that stewardship is a verb. It means you show up. You volunteer. You give back. You love one another.
I started this blog the day after the 2nd Annual Wake Forest Pride Festival because I saw a violation of everything my grandfather represents. We had a family-friendly street festival, a celebration of neighbors. And then we had the outsiders.
Agitators rolled into our town, coordinated by a secret network, with one dark purpose: to film our families.They didn’t come to talk; they came to harass, shame, and exploit our neighbors for “content.” They tried to turn our joy into a weapon.
I looked at that behavior—bullying families, stalking children, sowing division—and I measured it against the life Harold has lived. It didn’t measure up.
I said then, and I say now: Not in my town.
The Pillars of Our Democracy
As we move into 2026, I am doubling down on the values that actually build a community. There is no newsroom here. It is just me, the public records, and the truth.
Justice and Transparency: If it’s happening on the taxpayer’s dime, you deserve to see it.
Duty and Ethics: I hold myself to a standard, just as Harold has for a century.
Values and Morals: Not the performative kind, but the kind that treats every neighbor with dignity.
The Courage to Be Wrong
One thing my grandfather taught me is that wisdom isn’t about knowing everything; it’s about having the grace to learn.
We have to trust each other again. And to rebuild that trust, I have to be honest with you.
I am not going to be perfect. There will be times when I get it wrong. And when that happens—when it is called to my attention or I discover it myself—I will not double down. I will retract. I will correct. And I will apologize for the confusion.
This isn’t about being perfect; it’s about creating the space for us to admit that we don’t all know everything. We must have the grace to let people grow.
No Room for Theatrics
Because I respect the history men like my grandfather made, I have zero patience for people who treat politics like a game.
I have no time for the ideologues who want to burn down institutions for attention, and I have no use for the culture warriors who would rather chase purity tests than solve actual problems.
Extreme ideology is a mental prison. If you are here to shout slogans and ignore reality, you’re in the wrong place.
Be a Villager
This platform is for the Villagers.
To be a Villager is to look at a man like Harold—a man who founded a Legion Post in his basement and served his neighbors for eight decades—and try to emulate that spirit here in Wake Forest.
We are building a Wake Forest FOR ALL. That means a town where a family can attend a street festival without being stalked by political operatives. That means a town where our leaders are transparent. That means a town where we look out for each other.
Get onboard. Stay curious. Do the work.
Defend the Forest.
