To my future kid

To my future kid,

Writing this feels a little strange, especially as a 26-year-old still figuring out life. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that life is often weird and cringy—and that’s okay. What’s awkward to some is interesting to others. I’ve embraced that, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Your dad (that’s me) is at a turning point in his life, embarking on a journey to create a film. I have no idea how I got here, and to be honest, I’m both scared and excited. By the time you read this, maybe I’ve succeeded, and you’ve already seen Dolphin Dude. Or maybe the film didn’t work out, and it remains just a dream. Either way, I’m putting myself out there and seeing what happens. As we launch our crowdfunding campaign in a few days, I want to tell you why I’m doing this.

I grew up as an insecure kid who often felt unheard. Even as a climate advocate in my early twenties, I faced resistance. People were (and still are, as I write this) in denial about climate change, and it’s a divisive topic. That’s when I decided I needed to make caring cool—because it felt like the only way to get people to listen.

Over time, this mission has become a core part of who I am. Whether it’s through working out or getting tattooed, I’ve pushed back against the idea that compassion is a sign of weakness or something only for the overly sensitive. Instead, I’ve shown that compassion is a source of strength—it's driven by passion, creativity, and the power to unite people for a greater cause. 

I want you to know that I’m trying. One of the main reasons I’m doing all of this is because I feel a responsibility to you. I don’t want you to ask, “What did you do to make the world better?” and my answer be, “Nothing.” I don’t want to be a bystander while our planet is ravaged by climate change, war, and injustice. I want you to know that I tried, and I hope that in some way, I’ve succeeded.

When I was in ninth grade, I did an exercise that asked, “What do you want your kids to know when you’re on your deathbed?” My answer was, “that I made a difference.” It felt like a strong response at the time, but looking back, I realize it was vague. Why did I want to make a difference? Honestly, I think I just wanted to be “that guy”—the selfless, altruistic person that everyone admired. But as I’ve grown, I’ve learned that it’s not about what others think of me. What truly matters is something your grandfather taught me: “Work hard and be kind.” It’s really that simple. Be kind to people and to the planet.

In the end, I’m just trying to make a difference—not for recognition, but because it’s the right thing to do, for you and for the world you'll inherit.

Love,

Dad