Last week, I wrote about New York’s new mayor and the optimism that came from the city's youth; that rose-colored belief that the world can be rewritten if you just care hard enough. But this week, a counterpoint found me… in the form of Warren Buffett’s annual Thanksgiving letter.

Reading it, I was transported back to one of my very first jobs: working in the kitchen of a retirement home. My job was to serve meals. Some to residents eating in a communal dining room, others to those confined to their rooms, trays in hand like a hospital aide with ambition.

I didn’t realize it then, but that job shaped the way I see people, all people. Every resident had a story: love, loss, war, reinvention. Some remembered the details; others didn’t. But all of them had lived through something. I was a kid with no real life experience, just showing up, smiling, and trying to do right by them.

And somehow, they seemed to like me. Maybe it was because I listened. Maybe it was because youth has a kind of hopefulness that reminds older people what it feels like to still be becoming (see above: NYC mayor-elect).

This week, reading Warren’s words, I could almost hear those voices again. The same kind of steady wisdom that only comes from living long enough to know what truly matters.

In his letter, Warren writes:

I love this line. Because isn’t that the truth?

We spend so much of our lives trying to earn what, in many ways, began as luck. I didn’t inherit money or a family business, but I did inherit opportunity, a healthy body, an American passport, and a fair shot at possibility. That’s a pretty long straw.

I forget that sometimes, especially in moments like now, when I’m rebuilding, reinventing, trying to figure out what’s next professionally. But gratitude has a way of recalibrating ambition.

As Warren reminds us: being born into a place where dreams are even possible is luck in itself.

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Then came the reminder I didn’t know I needed:

It hit like truth often does - softly, but undeniably. Cue the existential pause.

For those who’ve been with me on this journey, you know this newsletter began after a complete plane engine failure mid-air over mid-Atlantic on a flight home from Spain. My husband and I genuinely thought that was it. (Spoiler: it wasn’t.)

Ever since, I’ve carried this deep awareness that we’re all one banana peel away from the unthinkable. Survival itself is a statistical miracle. Every day, you get another chance to make something of the luck you’ve been granted.

So when Warren talks about escaping banana peels, I get it. Some of us walk around thinking we’re in control, when really, we’re just trying not to slip.

One line in particular reshaped the way I’ve been thinking about time lately:

Biology doesn’t negotiate. Gravity always wins. So does Botox… at least for 4 - 6 months. And boy does it make you feel like a million bucks in the face of Father Time, but I digress.

Maybe that’s why lately I’ve been so aware of time. Aware of how fast my daughter is growing, how quickly I lose patience, and how loudly I pray she keeps her curiosity longer than I did.

We’re in the thick of the terrible twos. The era of throwing, hitting, and spitting (triple threat, if you ask me). But as exhausting as it is, Warren’s words reminded me: Father Time may win, but Fatherhood changes how you play the game.

If I can teach my daughter anything, let it be kindness. Everything else is just bonus points.

I think about that a lot, especially in this city where success is measured in square footage and titles.

Warren reminds us that greatness isn’t about accumulation. It’s about contribution.

When I was 18, the people who shaped me most weren’t CEOs. They were residents in a retirement home who told me stories, cracked jokes, and reminded me that worth isn’t earned… it’s innate.

That one line could end 90% of LinkedIn humblebrags.

And it made me pause. Because I know I talk about myself here a lot - it’s my newsletter, after all - but in all seriousness, who am I?

I am as much you, and you are as much anyone else. Whatever professional path we’re on, whatever our financial success, whatever city we call home… aren’t we all worthy?

Is this it? You’re worthy because you were born. Because you’re here.

Is this it? That being alive makes worthiness your birthright.

Take it from me - do as I say, not as I do - because that realization, that you alone are enough, is a lesson I’m still learning to fully believe.

That one lingered. 

Because honestly, I’m not sure who my heroes are right now. Maybe that’s part of this whole reinvention thing - realizing that hero worship eventually gives way to humility.

Last week, I wrote about Martha Stewart and her constant reinvention. This week, Warren Buffett reminded me that heroism might look less like disruption and more like steadiness; the quiet consistency of showing up, doing good work, and keeping your humanity intact.

Maybe my heroes are evolving too.

So here’s what I’m taking from this week - from Warren, from memory, from a two-year-old who throws her cup when she doesn’t get her way:
Luck is the starting point, not the destination. Wisdom is what you earn when you keep showing up. And kindness is the legacy.

Maybe that’s the real reinvention: not a new job, or city, or title, but a new understanding of what’s worth chasing.

Honor the past, flirt with the future, and wink at the present… it’s all borrowed time anyway.

This is why I write Is This It? - a weekly look at the messy intersection of midlife ambition, identity, and the search for real fulfillment. We’re all carrying something. But if you’re here reading this, odds are you already drew the long straw. So pause, take stock, and let that luck do what it’s meant to do: give you the courage to keep going.

The weekly section where I will call out a fraction: something that felt like progress this week (like a fraction forward) and a fiction: something that turned out to be a distraction or illusion. 

🎯 Fraction: Beehiiv, the platform I use to publish this newsletter, held its winter release this week… and it’s clear they’re in their reinvention era. New tools, new features, same scrappy energy. It’s inspiring to build something small inside a platform that’s growing right alongside me.

🎭 Fiction: The rumored $2,000 tariff rebate check making its way across social media. If you do the math, the numbers don’t add up (not even in Monopoly money). $220B collected in receipts, 163 million taxpayers in 2024… c’mon people, we’re smarter than this! In other words, don’t plan your holiday shopping around it.. 

A quick round-up of clips, headlines or stories, and cultural crumbs that made me pause and ask… is this it?

🪙 The End of an Era (and of Pennies)
The U.S. Mint has officially stopped producing new pennies. After more than a century of jingling in pockets and couch cushions, the one-cent coin finally lost its worth. A reminder that even value - literal or otherwise - changes with time.

🧠 F*ing Amazing!
Doctors on two continents performed the first transatlantic thrombectomy, a breakthrough that could redefine emergency medicine. Sometimes, progress doesn’t just happen -  it shouts in joy and disbelief.

🌊 From Kelp to Kitchen: The Next Green Revolution
A UConn startup is using kelp to extend the shelf life of food and maybe the planet, too. Proof that reinvention often comes from the most unexpected places

🚗 Tesla Who?
Waymo’s self-driving cars are officially cruising on freeways in LA, San Francisco, and Phoenix. Whether that’s progress or a sign we’ve officially surrendered to the machines is still TBD.

💰 From Skims to Billions
Kim Kardashian’s Skims just hit a $5 billion valuation after a fresh funding round led by Goldman Sachs. A reminder that reinvention pays  - sometimes quite literally.

We’re all just figuring it out - balancing gratitude with ambition, humility with hustle, and hoping luck doesn’t run out before the next chapter begins.

If this one hit home, share it with someone who’s in their own messy middle. The reminder to keep going never expires.

Until next Friday,

Chris

P.S. If you’re curious, you can read Warren Buffett’s full Thanksgiving letter here… it’s worth your coffee break.