I didn't set out to become a financial advisor.

I grew up on a family farm in Michigan, which meant freedom and responsibility in equal measure. My cousins and I built forts from scrap lumber and collected bottles for comic book money. We also woke up in the middle of the night when the cows got out. We did the unpleasant jobs because that was the work that needed doing. I learned early that independence isn't just about doing what you want — it's about doing what needs to be done.

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Almost 20 years on the road

After college I spent almost two decades as a recording and touring audio engineer. It was exactly the kind of career that doesn't come with a financial roadmap.

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One early lesson came from feast-and-famine income. You come home from a long tour with a healthy bank balance and you feel like you've earned something — because you have. So you buy records, treat your friends, enjoy yourself. Then you check your account a few weeks later and realize the cushion isn't what it was. Learning to set money aside when I was flush, in ways that were simple enough to actually stick to, changed everything.

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Another lesson came from a mistake. I was tour managing and putting travel expenses on credit cards to collect the rewards points. Smart, right? Except the reimbursements came months later, the interest fees started adding up, and I'd extended myself further than I could cover. The rewards weren't worth it. Lesson: always keep more cash available than you think you need.

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The most surprising lesson was investing itself. I'd put it off for years because it seemed complicated — the kind of thing that required expertise I didn't have. When I finally started, I discovered it was far more approachable than I'd expected.

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That gap between how scary something looks from the outside and how manageable it turns out to be once you engage with it — I've seen it over and over, in my own life and in my clients'.

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Why I do this

In late 2018, a trusted friend — a successful producer I'd worked with for years — suggested I consider becoming a CPA, but the tax prep part didn't appeal to me and the underlying insight mattered more: people living unconventional lives needed financial guidance from someone who actually understood their world, and the conventional industry wasn't particularly interested in serving them.

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I'd seen it firsthand. The mainstream firms and commission-based advisors prioritized clients who already had substantial assets. The musician making the most money they've ever made — but who doesn't have a big retirement account — just isn't worth their time. To me, that person is exactly who I want to help.

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Joining a big, established firm would have been the easier path. But I would have answered to someone else's priorities and served someone else's ideal client. So I got licensed in spring 2019, earned my CFP® designation in late 2022, and built something on my own terms.

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What the numbers can't capture

One of my early clients was a recently divorced single mom — ambitious, capable, but navigating a genuinely vulnerable moment in her life. The conversations that mattered most weren't about investments and numbers. They were about life. About what starting over actually feels like. About the practical, sometimes uncomfortable questions that come with rebuilding a life — how priorities shift, what actually matters now, and how financial decisions fit into that. She needed someone who wouldn't flinch at the hard stuff — and who was genuinely more curious about her life than about her account balance.

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She's still a client today. What started as financial planning has grown into a long-term investment management relationship built on years of accumulated trust. That's what I'm here to build with every client.