A place of wonder

Deep inside each of us is a childhood sanctuary, a place where imagination ran wild, where adventures unfolded without limits.

For me, that place was an old barn on my family’s land in Louisiana.

Built in the late 1800s by my great-grandfather, the man I was named after.

The barn was so much more than just a structure.

It was a pirate ship, the Millennium Falcon, a tank, an aircraft carrier.

It endured floods, hurricanes, and, somehow, me, probably its biggest threat of all.

As I ease into Q2 of 2025, I reflect on a solid start to the year.

I stayed busy, built some cool things, and put a little money in my pocket.

Nothing monumental, but what I built, I built well.

Strangely, the further down this construction path I go, the closer to home I feel,  as if I’m being guided somehow.

I just understand construction; it speaks to me.

In the 1800s, the construction language of South Louisiana was French.

Today, it’s Spanish. Lucky for me, I speak both.

I probably could have gotten into construction much sooner, but there were lessons I had to learn first.

The Oil & Gas industry taught me plenty—especially what it means to be a casualty of rightsizing.

I still carry the scars of 2017, but time is slowly healing them.

My great-grandfather built a barn that has stood for three centuries.

Maybe it's my turn to build, here’s no telling what I might be.

I sit here typing while my crew builds a storage building.

I try to remember what it felt like to dream with open eyes, to believe, without question, that an old barn could become the Millennium Falcon.

Maybe that’s the point of this story.

To remind you, go back to that place of imagination.

The place where you couldn't fail.

The place where anything was possible.

And maybe, when you wake up tomorrow, you’ll find yourself building something that lasts for generations.