Welcome back to the table, thanks so much for being here. If you’re new here, the newsletter is divided into “courses,” each featuring its own food for thought. The appetizer comes in the form of a quote or a poem, something to set the tone. The main will almost always be a short story. The desserts are ideas and questions. The to-go box features a work of art I stumbled upon in the wild, likely thanks to a friend. Enjoy!

appetizer.
some obligatory annual reflection.

This year brought some of the highest highs and lowest lows of my life. I lived adventures I’d long dreamt of and found profound connections in corners of the world that once felt insurmountably foreign. Removed from them now, they feel like missing pieces of myself. Just as pangs of homesickness struck when me on the other side of the world, waves of nostalgia now break on the beaches of my heart for those faraway places, for those friends and lovers I held and laughed with there, and for the dreams we dreamt and lived together.

To borrow an exchange from The French Dispatch’s final vignette between two ex-pats:
Nescaffier: “Searching for something missing, missing something left behind.”
Roebuck: “Maybe with good luck, we'll find what eluded us in the places we once called home.”

There’s an irony to it of course. “I want to be outside of my comfort zone again,” I said at the start of this chapter to those I left behind, traveling to far-off places, navigating a world that spoke a different language, trekking all manner of landscapes, finding love and brotherhood in the eyes and hearts of strangers. As it turns out, the most uncomfortable place of them all was my own mind.

Against that backdrop of global gallivanting, it feels silly to speak of low moments. But amongst the memorable meals and sunset-soaked mountains, the lows were there too. And for whatever I’ve learned away from the world I knew before, I’ve been forced to learn a whole lot more about my inner world.

I don’t know that I’ll ever master being fully present and content where I am in the world. But in reflecting on this year, especially on these last few months since returning from my travels and beginning to search for work and community and meaning in the U.S. again, I’ve had to reconcile with where I am in my inner world. And even though it feels like I am only just beginning to get a handle on that, I’d call that growth.

So when I reflect on this year, the temptation is to focus on strolling the Spanish countryside, swimming in Colombian waterfalls, or looking into the eyes of someone who has known you for moments, and yet sees the profound truth of who you are – who you are capable of becoming. But in this annual reflection, I will also include the times when the only eyes I knew were my own, looking back at me through the mirror, wielding the word should as one might wield a whip.

The lows are lessons. There are lessons in all of it. And I don’t know what more I could ask for than the opportunity to learn from this life that I am so fortunate to live.

So, here’s to another year of learning gone, and to the one to come. I’m quite ready to build on all of these lessons. In the end, I think the lows are just highs in the making.

main.
best of lists & such.

Best of the year lists (albums, films, books, etc.) are equally as impossible to construct as they are to resist attempting. What is that about us as humans that takes such pleasure in reflective categorization? Even the writings that spurred the first entries of this newsletter were rooted in list-making around my favorite reads. Whatever the case, I’ll attempt a few lists here for some of the artworks that impressed themselves most upon me this year.

Albums are a category I’m going to skip this year. Cop out? Probably. But my listening habits this year mostly pulled me into music released in just about any year other than this one, with some exceptions.

Instead, I’ve compiled a playlist of the songs that made 2023. This haphazard list of 327 songs is likely unrelatable to just about everyone else, but that’s ok, they just happen to be the 327 songs that, at one time or another (or multiple times) most profoundly soundtracked my year. Feel free to put it on in the background as you read on, and for god’s sake, shuffle it. Usually I put playlists in a specific order, but this beast proved too daunting.

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Books I’ve read this year that I loved, in no particular order:

• Mr. Loverman. The protagonist is the most loveable old flirt, reminded me a lot of Oupi, my mom’s dad.
• Open Veins of Latin America. Essential reading for any American.
• 4000 Weeks (still in progress but damn). In the world of productivity books trying to “solve the problem of time”, this is a breath of fresh air.
• Tortilla Flats. Short, sweet, Steinbeck at his unpretending storyteller best.
• Just Kids. The artist inside me was pining for New York something wicked with this one.
• The Omnivores Dilemma. Maybe a bit dated now, but essential reading all the same. One of three Michael Pollan books I read this year, all of which I loved.
• Utopia for Realists. Read this book.
• The Bone Clocks. David Mitchell might be old news at this point, but damn this was a relentlessly fun read.
• The Anthropocene Reviewed. A year of two late to this one too, but John Greene can do more than YA fiction. I love how his optimism shines through the obscurities of the modern age.

Films I loved that came out this year or close to it, in no particular order:

• The Holdovers. Go watch this while it’s still the holidays. As good as any Christmas time, coming-of-age, or 70s nostalgia film gets.
• The Boy and The Heron. I need a rewatch to really appreciate the story, and while it’s redundant to  stack any more praise on Miyazaki, it yet another film from a master at the  seemingly unwavering peak of his powers.
• The Whale. Feels a long time ago now that I watched a subtitled version of this in the Medellin Modern Art Museum cinema, but the effect it had one me is top of mind when I remember the movies I saw this year.
• The Bear. Obviously.
• Eight Mountains. Already waxed poetic on this one. Watch it.

To-do list (because I’ve come to realize I’ve watched very few films this year, and there’s more media made in a day than one could experience in a lifetime these days, but it’s worth starting somewhere):

• Past Lives. I already know how I feel about this one. I’m waiting for when I’m ready to feel that way again.
• The Taste of Things. Remind me to plan for a night at the local french bistro immediately following.
• All Dirt Roads Taste of Salt. Looks gorgeous. Looks challenging.
• The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar and the other Wes Anderson shorts. How I’ve not watched those yet is as much a mystery to me as anyone else.

dessert.
interesting + interested.

Alongside my friend Peter, I’ve started a project called interesting + interested. I’ll likely be sharing more about the story and the things that inspired it in a future family dinner edition, but in short it’s a platform for creating and sharing intimate musical performances with songwriters and musicians in and around Nashville. It’s been bringing me a ton of joy and I’d love for y’all to follow along if you feel so inclined.

Follow on Instagram

Subscribe on Youtube

Follow on Tiktok

to-go box.

It’s my mom’s 60th birthday tomorrow, and I’m writing this now on the 30th with the intention to get this sent out and get to the important work of enjoying the company of family and friends. So I’m not going to do much context giving here, and just leave you with a few quotes that have been helping me along lately. Enjoy, Happy New Year, and Happy Birthday Mom :)

“Start before you’re ready.”

from the podcast the twenties guide on spotify.

“The purpose of life is to enjoy the passage of time.”

can’t remember how this one came to me, probably tiktok.

“Laughter. An essential ingredient for survival. And we laughed a lot.”

Patti Smith, Just Kids.

If you’re looking for an additional soundtrack to pair with this newsletter, check out my In Rotation playlist for y'all to explore if you're on the hunt for some new tunes. Give it a listen here.

That’s it for this edition of the Family Dinner Newsletter. Of course, the best part of a shared meal is the conversation, so I would love to hear any thoughts, feedback, or recommendations any “course” may have brought to mind.  You can share those by replying to the newsletter email. If you haven't subscribed yet, do so below, and feel free to respond to the welcome email with any thoughts!