From Story to Stage

I didn’t really know what I was doing.

But on a quiet weekday morning, I walked into the Indigo at Yonge and Bloor — no appointment, no plan, just a hopeful heart and a copy of my book in hand. I had Googled how book signings worked and came up with... not much. So I figured: why not ask?

I spoke to the General Manager and shared our story — a family who packed up and took a sabbatical around the world, not to escape life but to walk more fully into it. I told her about the lessons we learned, the cultures we connected with, the gift of time together, and the book I wrote to capture it all.

Her eyes lit up.

And just like that, our first official book signing was born. Not just me at a table with a stack of books — but the whole family, stories in hand, ready to share.

On the day of the signing, the weather played its usual March tricks: gusting wind, subway closures, freezing rain. But inside that bookstore, something special unfolded. Over the course of a few hours, we connected with people from all walks of life. Kasia and Ayana helped retell stories from the road — the highs, the lows, the weird foods — and proudly showcased their handmade LEGO flags representing each country we’d visited.

(And yes — there are still a few signed copies of Around the World in Family Days available at Indigo’s flagship store at Yonge & Bloor if you're in Toronto. Grab one while they last!)

Watching the girls speak with such confidence, watching people of all ages light up listening to them — that was the real reward.

We’ve come a long way since those trail days.

A year ago, we were hiking the Hooker Valley Trail in New Zealand, Mt. Cook towering ahead, the girls skipping along the path without a care in the world. I still remember that moment vividly — the fresh air, the sense of awe, the peace. That photo, the one of the girls mid-stride on that breathtaking path, is now the cover of my book.

That image felt symbolic — a picture of movement, of possibility, of walking toward something without needing to know exactly where it would lead.

I had no idea then that I’d one day be standing on a stage, microphone in hand, and telling the story behind that very photo.

But a few weeks later, I found myself doing just that.

The moment I stepped onto the Speaker Slam stage, the lights were blinding and my heart was racing — in the best way. That quiet inner nudge whispered: you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

I reminded myself to pause before I spoke. Not out of stagecraft, but presence. You only get to tell this story for the first time once. Take it in. Breathe it in.

I stood on that taped “X” and thought of the mentors, friends, family members — even strangers — whose words had carried me here. The silence felt thick. Even the guy who had been glued to his phone suddenly looked up and locked eyes with me. Okay, I thought. I’ve got him. Let’s go.

The talk itself flew by. When the applause came, I reminded myself again: pause. Feel it. Absorb it. These moments don’t repeat.

Then — they called my name.

First place.

Winner of the Speaker Slam competition for the “No Risk, No Reward” theme.

I sat there in stunned silence, the kind that comes when life nudges you and says, See? You’re on the right path.

If you’re curious, you can watch that moment — and the full performance — here. (Yes, I took a breath. Yes, I felt the lump in my throat. And yes — the guy with the phone? He stayed with me the whole way through.)

The next morning, still riding the high, I walked into my daughters’ room with the medal around my neck.

My youngest, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes, blinked and said, “Daddy… you won?”

“Yes, honey. I won first place at last night’s Speaker Slam.”

She looked at the medal closely. “Is it real gold?”

“No, sweetheart. But it’s worth all its weight in gold to me.”

And then came one of those full-body hugs — the kind that wraps around your entire heart and doesn’t let go.

I walked into my older daughter’s room next. She took one look, smirked (as only a pre-teen can), and said, “Good job, Daddy.” A proud hug followed. And just like that — I was done. Full heart. Medal secured.

I used to think the destination was the reward. Now I know it’s the walk. It’s the unexpected detours. It’s the windy bookstore mornings and the surprise stage wins. It’s the silence before the applause and the hugs that come after.

Because the truth is — what started as a trip became a book. What started as a book became a stage. And now, what started as a medal is becoming something much more:

The journey’s far from over. And I’m all in.