I never thought I'd end up in Baton Rouge.

That changed in March 2021 when my work brought me to the Capital Region. At the time, it felt like the career-defining reset I'd been chasing since losing my job five years earlier. A chance to refocus. To move forward.  

Taking the job was the easy part.

The hard part was the three-to-four-day weekly commute from Mandeville for 15 months while our daughter finished junior high. If you've ever attempted to drive I-12 during a rainstorm or sat on I-10 watching your life tick by in brake lights, then you understand. It wasn't just miles — it was commitment with a heavy side of delusion and hundreds of cups of coffee.

But somewhere between those dark early mornings and long drives home, something unexpected happened: Baton Rouge started to grow on me. Not in a "well, I guess this is fine" way. In a real way.

WHEN BTR BECAME HOME

In 2022, Ashleigh and I made it official and moved to Zachary. And that's when everything clicked.

Our family has genuinely thrived here. Ashleigh’s career has taken off. Our daughter Addison graduates summa cum laude from Zachary High in May. Our son Jackson starts there as a freshman in August. Watching them find their footing, build real friendships, and want to go to school has been one of the more quietly stunning parts of this whole adventure. Every parent hopes for it. Most of us brace for the alternative.

For me, Baton Rouge didn't just become home. It became community — which sounds like something you'd see on a welcome sign, but I mean it in the least cheesy way possible.

FINDING MY PEOPLE

This past year, I've served as President of both the Baton Rouge Ragin' Cajun Club and the PRSA Baton Rouge Chapter. Those roles connected me to people who challenge you, call you out when you need it, and show up when it matters. Additionally, I teach at the LSU Manship School of Mass Communication. My goal is simple: give students real-world tools and some honest, occasionally uncomfortable perspective on the communications field. It's a full-circle moment, sharing lessons I learned the hard way with people who hopefully won't have to.

Then there's Leadership Baton Rouge (Class of 2026). A few months in and it's already changed how I see this region — not just as someone who lives and works here, but as someone who's starting to understand the people and systems quietly moving it forward.  

That kind of shift doesn't happen often.

Here's the thing: this isn't the Baton Rouge I thought I knew.

I went to high school in Houma, college in Lafayette, and bounced from Waco, Texas, to Miami, Florida, and Atlanta, Georgia, before landing back in Louisiana in 2016. The version of Baton Rouge I carried around in my head for years was outdated and incomplete.

It's full of motivated young professionals, mid-career leaders, and genuine changemake rs who aren't waiting around for someone else to fix things. It has a food scene our family has completely fallen into. The "where should we go tonight?" conversation used to be a chore. Here, it's a highlight.

And the talent? It's real. In more ways than I expected, it rivals — and in some cases exceeds — what I saw in much larger cities.  

IT REALLY COULD GET BETTER IN BTR

Baton Rouge is a hub of underrated talent doing remarkable things. I don't think it'll stay under the radar much longer.

One of the most personally meaningful things I've been part of is helping restart the Baton Rouge Ragin' Cajun Club. Bringing that community back has been more than a leadership opportunity. There is still much more work to be done, but I hope it will reinvigorate people and create something that sticks around.

For the last seven years, I have been a vocal advocate for mental health by raising more than $12,000 for NAMI Southeast Louisiana. It may not seem like much, but it gives me a purpose. I hope I can continue to making an impact in the Greater Baton Rouge area.

When I step back and look at all the places I've called home — Waco, Miami, Atlanta, and several zip codes in between — Baton Rouge stands apart. Not because it's perfect. But because it's real, and because it gave our family something that's surprisingly hard to find: stability, opportunity, and a genuine sense of belonging.

I didn't plan on Baton Rouge.

But it's where I belong. That's the best kind of ending — the one you didn't see coming.