Sixty years.
That seems like the kind of moment when a person is supposed to stop, look back over the miles, and try to make sense of how the whole story unfolded.
And when I do that, I realize how many of the best chapters of my own story somehow intersect with yours.
It started simply enough — a call from the dorm. At the time I had no idea that dialing that number would lead to decades of conversations, ideas, questionable business concepts, and the kind of friendship that quietly shapes the direction of a life.
Not long after that we found ourselves studying markets the old way — paper charts, pencils, and the firm belief that if we stared at them long enough the world would eventually reveal its patterns. Somewhere in those early days we were also completely certain gold was headed to $1000 by Y2K.
Which, at the time, felt like the most obvious conclusion imaginable.
But markets were never really the whole story.
What I remember most were the ideas.
Like the Soul Assignment Store — a concept so wonderfully absurd it was never meant to be real. A place where people could sell their soul for cash. Not because anyone should… but because the very idea of it said something funny and true about the world.
Those were the kinds of conversations that made the hours disappear.
Because what always mattered most wasn’t the specific idea. It was the curiosity behind it. The way you’ve always been wired to look at systems — markets, behavior, incentives — and ask how they really work.
And of course there was always the thought that someday you’d capture some of it on film. Turning complicated things into stories people could understand — especially trading, which has always felt like one of those strange worlds that deserves a good documentary.
Then there were the quieter nights.
Sitting on the patio at Gabby's, letting the evening drift along while conversation wandered wherever it wanted to go.
Through all of it, you’ve been a mentor, a sounding board, and a co-conspirator in more ideas than we should probably document. But more than anything, you’ve been a true friend — the kind who shows up, thinks deeply, and somehow makes life more interesting simply by being part of it.
Somewhere along the way you also agreed to be Vaughn’s godfather, which says a lot about the trust and respect I’ve always had for you.
And tonight, somewhere out there, I suspect Mark Edwardson is also raising a glass to you — probably after mysteriously reappearing in your life again like one of those recurring characters who wanders back into the story every few years.
Which somehow feels appropriate.
Because if life is measured in ideas, stories, laughter, and the people who keep showing up along the way, then I’d say you’re doing this sixty-years thing pretty well.
So today I just want to say thank you — for the friendship, the ideas, the adventures, and the many chapters we’ve written together.
Happy 60th, my friend.
And the best part is… I’m pretty sure we’re not done yet.
After all the charts and trades, it turns out the best one I ever made was the time invested in friendship.
There’s also a song written for you:
A Trader Looks at Sixty