A Letter From 54-Year-Old Me to 44-Year-Old Me

It’s easy to remember what I was doing exactly one year ago today, or at least preparing for.

This week marks one year since my military retirement ceremony after 23 years of service.

In some ways it feels like 365 days ago, and in other ways it feels like yesterday.

A lot of reflection has happened during that time.

Over 130+ episodes of Passing The Torch, there are three questions I’ve asked guests again and again:

◼ What message would you give to your younger self?

◼ What letter would you write to your younger self?

◼ What would need to happen over the next 10 years for you to consider them a success?

Recently, I decided to take a different approach.

Instead of writing to my younger self, I wrote a letter to my present-day self …but from the perspective of me at age 54. Here’s what I wrote:

A Letter From 54-Year-Old Me to 44-Year-Old Me

Martin,

I’m writing to you from ten years in the future.

At 44, you had just stepped away from 23 years of military service.

Some days felt strange, like stepping off a moving train while the world kept moving.

You made the right decision.

You never forgot Dad dying at 51. Losing him at 11 taught you something most people don’t learn until much later: Time is not guaranteed.

The military gave you purpose, structure, and mission. At 44, you chose something different. You chose time.

Time with Lora.

Time with Haley and Bowen while they still wanted to sit beside you.

Time to travel.

Time to build something that was truly yours.

I’m grateful you did because from where I stand now at 54, I can tell you the things you worried about weren’t what mattered most.

Not the downloads, follower counts, or algorithms.

What mattered were the conversations.

The people you genuinely listened to.

The family trips that became stories still told years later.

Somewhere along the way, Passing The Torch became more than a podcast. It became a collection of stories and lessons that would have disappeared if you hadn’t pressed record.

You chased curiosity and built a life around conversations and connections.

The moments that stayed with me weren’t the big ones. They were the quiet ones.

Coffee with Lora somewhere unfamiliar.

Watching Haley and Bowen grow into adults.

Long walks after conversations that changed your perspective.

Those relationships are the real legacy.

That was the real wealth.

Writing this reminded me how easy it is to spend life chasing metrics while missing moments.

I don’t have the next 10 years figured out, but I do know this: I want to be fully present for them.

Also, stay authentic and keep asking questions. It's your gift and superpower. 

- Martin, Age 54