On Collecting

I just spent the weekend in California at Monterey Car Week, surrounded by gleaming chrome and the world’s most passionate car collectors. Car Week is full of collectors gazing lovingly at engines and chassis, frames and lines. It’s an amazing place for people-watching, classic car racing, and soaking in the natural beauty of California’s Monterey peninsula. And yes, I do love classic cars. I have one myself, and I’m always bidding on a certain other (IFKYK!).

But I’m not really a car collector. I’m a different kind of collector.

The things I gather aren’t the kind you display on a lawn or feature in glossy magazines, but they matter more to me than most collections. Like any true collector, I prize rarity — not in cars or motorcycles, but in moments and connections that can’t be replicated.

The middle and high school friends I still text daily, about both the inane and the profound. The nonprofit leader whose vision still makes my heart race years after I first heard it — and every time I share their story. My extended family, some of whom I was able to see and celebrate with twice this summer. My cookbooks, filled with scribbled notes in the margins to remind myself of the little adjustments that make a recipe sing.

And just like cars, these treasures need care. They’re maintained with attention, taken out for “drives” in the form of catch-up calls, handwritten notes, or introductions that bring new stories into the fold. I hold their histories, remember where they came from, and imagine the journeys still ahead. The value isn’t in owning them — it’s in tending them, sharing them, and letting them inspire the next great find. It is in remembering them when times are hard.

That’s what motivates me.

How do I hear and hold these stories? Who should be connected to whom? How can I help someone realize their passions through philanthropy? How can we create new memories — new collections of opportunity — that make hearts sing and the world shine just a little more brightly?

So, what do you collect? I’d love to hear. And I’d love to explore how we can build together what may be your most prized possession: your good name.

In friendship,

P.S. We knew when we saw this car on the lawn that it would be the Pebble Beach concours winner — and it was. Beautiful, unique, memorable.