After 1,000 years, the Holy Roman Empire quietly came to its official end on Aug. 6, 1806, as Emperor Francis II of Austria laid down his imperial crown following Napoleon’s three successive military victories.

Management lessons don’t always come from business books or leadership seminars.

Sometimes they come from 2,000 years ago, carved into stone, flowing through aqueducts, or buried beneath the streets of Rome.

The Roman Empire didn’t thrive because of inspiration alone — it thrived because of systems, discipline, and a relentless focus on execution.

And today’s managers, especially those leading lean teams, can learn a lot from how Rome got things done.

Take Rome’s gravity‑fed sewer system, the Cloaca Maxima. It wasn’t glamorous. It wasn’t celebrated. But it worked because thousands of workers handled the unglamorous tasks that kept the city functioning.

That’s delegation at its purest form. Modern managers often hand off a tedious assignment and say, “You can get this done today, right?”

Rome reminds us that delegation requires clarity, support, and accountability — not wishful thinking. The sewer flowed downhill because every worker knew exactly what “done” meant.

Roman legions offer another insight: discipline through defined roles.

Every soldier — from centurion to scout — knew their responsibilities. Ambiguity was dangerous.

Today, ambiguity still kills execution. When three team members assume “someone else” owns customer onboarding, the result mirrors a legion without formation: confusion, delay, and frustration.

Rome teaches us that clarity is kindness.

Then there’s infrastructure. Rome built roads before monuments.

They invested in what made everything else possible. In today’s world, leaders chase flashy AI initiatives while ignoring broken workflows.

But success still depends on the basics — clean data, clear communication, and predictable handoffs. Build your “roads” first.

Measurement mattered too. Rome’s census wasn’t just counting people; it was the backbone of resource allocation.

Today, managers who skip metrics end up managing opinions instead of reality. Rome understood that you can’t improve what you don’t measure.

Just the fact that something is measured tells the organization it’s important!

And while Rome celebrated heroic generals, its greatest achievements came from systems that didn’t require heroics. Aqueducts delivered water continuously without human intervention.

Modern teams often celebrate all‑nighters instead of asking why the system failed in the first place. Rome’s lesson: build processes that prevent emergencies.

The time for a postmortem is after the crisis, before celebrating those who careen from disaster to disaster.

Transparency mattered in the Roman Forum, where laws and debates were public.

Today, employees deserve the same clarity — especially during reorganizations or strategic shifts. Silence breeds anxiety; transparency builds trust.

Sharing the path forward, detailing the next several steps — and consequences as others react — builds consensus and keeps the team engaged and moving forward with confidence while minimizing dissent.

If some just can’t get on board, perhaps it’s time they leave, rather than slow the team by sharing dissent or lackadaisical work habits.

Similarly, those closest to the problem — keeping the sewers flowing — often know the bottlenecks better than those viewing from afar.

Finally, Rome’s stability during the Pax Romana created space for innovation.

Teams today need the same stability — predictable rhythms, clear priorities, and confidence that the ground won’t shift beneath them every quarter.

Celebrate creativity that refreshes the culture with new ideas, dreams and goals. Growth nourishes the souls of all.

Rome wasn’t perfect. But its management principles — delegation, clarity, measurement, systems, transparency, and stability — still apply. Nor was Rome built in a day, but every day should make progress forward on the plan.

The empire reminds us that great teams aren’t built on inspiration alone.

They’re built on structure, trust, and the willingness to handle the unglamorous work that keeps everything flowing.

So, when your boss asks, “Can you get it done today?” celebrate the opportunity to excel and lean into the job.

By the way, the Cloaca Maxima started around 600 BCE, is still in use today functioning as part of Rome’s drainage infrastructure carrying rainwater and runoff into the Tiber River.

Systems beget longevity, enabling tomorrow’s choices and actions.

Jack Browne is a community activist and former technology executive who believes in the power of connection, service, and lifelong learning.

Life is hard. And when life is hard, education becomes more than a pathway. It becomes a lifeline.

UNESCO puts it plainly: education equips people with the knowledge, skills, and confidence to participate fully in society and make informed choices about their lives and communities.

That’s not theory. That’s reality. And I saw that reality up close on July 23rd at the graduation ceremony for 78 students in the newly renamed Dr. Blaine Purcell Road to College Summer Program.

MSU hosted the camp and the ceremony, giving students entering grades six through 12 a chance to experience a university environment. For six weeks, these middle and high school students tackled advanced math, strengthened their English skills, and practiced SAT content — not because someone told them they had to, but because they chose to invest in their future.

Their families invested too. Parents filled the Sikes Center with a potluck dinner, pride, and the kind of joy that comes from watching your child take a step you may never have had the chance to take yourself.

WFISD Superintendent Dr. Donnie Lee spoke at the ceremony, sharing his own winding Road to College — a story that reminds us how uneven the starting line can be. Born to a 16‑year‑old mother, he attended 11 schools, always the new kid. His mother married eight times. He spent two years homeless. He failed twice. Teachers mocked him. Most gave up on him.

But one adult didn’t.

At 17, his first stepfather reached out and asked him to spend the summer working with him. That simple invitation changed everything. In a home with three other kids his age, Donnie found structure, discipline, and someone willing to invest in him as a parent.

He stayed. He finished high school — “62nd in a class of 62,” he joked — because a math teacher, Mr. McCloskey, cared enough to ask why he wasn’t doing his homework, because a counselor, Mr. Moser, explained Free Application for Student Aid and scholarships, and because adults stepped in and showed him what was possible.

From there, Lee earned scholarships to junior college, then graduated from Stephen F. Austin University with a teaching degree. He noted that the 13 years it takes to earn a high school diploma is longer and harder than the years required for the degrees that follow.

And he’s right. The first mountain is often the steepest.

After sharing his story, Dr. Lee joined Gonzalo Robles, founder of Café con Leché, who developed and runs this summer camp, now in its 13th year. More than 300 WFISD students — fifth through twelfth grade — participate in the broader Road to College program during the school year.

They and their parents receive training and coaching in the discipline, focus, and practical steps needed to secure scholarships while preparing for college.

Not every student finishes the full program. But every student leaves with experiences, skills, and confidence that reshape their future.

This year, the program was renamed in honor of the late Purcell, a long‑time supporter whose contributions helped build the scholarship fund that continues to open doors for students who might otherwise see college as out of reach.

Education matters even more today as the world accelerates around us. Knowledge now doubles roughly every 12 hours.

We’re only a quarter of the way into this century of the information economy, and the pace isn’t slowing. Lifelong learning isn’t optional. It’s essential.

Preparing our children for the challenges ahead isn’t just a family responsibility. It’s a community responsibility. It’s a global responsibility. When we invest in their future, we invest in ours.

The winding path to your future may not be straight, smooth, or predictable. But with education — and with adults willing to show up — that path leads students somewhere worth going.

Whether you’re winning customers, donors, or community support, success compounds when communication is crisp and commitments are honored.

A dream is a powerful starting point, but dreams need nurturers — people who support, adapt, and evolve the idea as reality unfolds.

Most people aren’t asking for perfection. They’re asking for partnership. Give them that, and they’ll reach for the stars without fear of criticism, rebuke, or dismissal.

Jack Browne is a community activist and former technology executive who believes in the power of connection, service, and lifelong learning.

P.S. Stephen F. Austin University has two resonating memories for me.

First my grandfather was one of the first 24 professors at Stephen F. Austin University as it was formed. His mother born right before the Civil War called teachers and other able bodied men to service, never knew how to read or write. This inspired him to leverage his WW I military service benefits to become a teacher.

Between my junior and senior year of high school, I attended a summer six week session at Stephen F. Austin, taking pre-caculus and English. It was an awakening to the higher expectations of college classes as well as a muturing experience.

Dreams don’t become reality because they’re brilliant.

They become reality because people commit to the work, the handoffs, and the accountability that turn an idea into a living, breathing enterprise.

Every great idea starts the same way: a spark, a conversation, a circle of trusted voices who say, “You’ve got something here.” That early validation feels electric. It feels like lift‑off.

You gather your founding team — your A players, the ones who finish each other’s sentences and see around corners. They’re aligned, energized, ready to build.

Then comes the next dozen hires, the doers who turn vision into execution. Development, marketing, sales, operations — each group owning a piece of the dream and pushing it forward.

That’s when reality shows up — not the glamorous part, but the part that separates contenders from pretenders.

Execution isn’t just about doing your job; it’s about serving your internal customer with the same urgency you show your external one. Young teams struggle with this.

They assume alignment instead of building it. They hope communication will happen instead of ensuring it.

A friend recently shared a moment that captured this perfectly. His team needed support from another group to hit a critical metric. He reached out.

The reply came back: “I’ll look into it.”

And then—silence.

The result was 24 hours of lost momentum, 24 hours of opportunity cost and 24 hours of a team stuck in place.

In tech, where customers have endless choices and competitors call your clients daily, “I’ll look into it” is never enough.

The standard I learned — and taught — is simple: give a date for a date. You may not know the solution yet, but you can commit to when you’ll know. “I’ll look into it and give you a date for a solution by Tuesday.”

That’s accountability. That’s respect. That’s how teams win.

Opportunity cost is the silent killer of execution. We all get the same twenty‑four hours. Spend them on the wrong priority, or fail to give a committed response, and the moment is gone. The play breaks down.

Imagine Dak Prescott in Week 7 against Washington. With four and a half minutes left in the first quarter, he calls the play: “CeeDee, go deep. I’ll hit you.”

Now imagine CeeDee Lamb replying, “I’ll look into it.”

The stadium would groan. Instead, he breaks open, signals he’s ready, and turns a 74‑yard touchdown into momentum, confidence, and belief as the Cowboys grow their lead throughout the game.

Teams win because they trust each other to run the play. Predictable execution creates repeatable success. Repeatable success builds resilience. Resilience overcomes odds.

Day one of any new team feels overwhelming.

You’ve got talent, ambition, and opportunity — but not yet trust. A shared playbook, practiced handoffs, and repetition build that trust.

Whether you’re winning customers, donors, or community support, success compounds when communication is crisp and commitments are honored.

A dream is a powerful starting point, but dreams need nurturers — people who support, adapt, and evolve the idea as reality unfolds.

Most people aren’t asking for perfection. They’re asking for partnership. Give them that, and they’ll reach for the stars without fear of criticism, rebuke, or dismissal.

Jack Browne is a community activist and former technology executive who believes in the power of connection, service, and lifelong learning.

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We are social creatures. Most of us were raised to respect others, use good manners, and treat people the way we would like to be treated.

The Golden Rule is simple: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

Yet in today’s fast-paced world, that principle is often replaced by urgency, convenience, and self-interest. We see it in small ways every day: cutting in line, rushing past people, or treating interactions as transactions rather than relationships.

Service offers an antidote.

When we serve others, we gain a better understanding of their challenges. That understanding makes us more compassionate, effective, and connected to our communities.

Recently, Wichita Falls Code Enforcement issued a call for volunteers to help mow yards for elderly, disabled, and low-income residents. Some homeowners have received warnings for high grass but lack the physical ability or financial resources to maintain their properties. A few hours of volunteer work can help a neighbor avoid fines while improving the appearance of an entire neighborhood.

That is service in action.

I was reminded of another side of service when a friend ordered a foam chair online. The chair arrived compressed in layers of plastic packaging. After unwrapping it, she discovered it never fully expanded into the chair she had ordered.

Getting help proved even more frustrating than opening the package. Multiple calls, extended hold times, and repeated explanations led nowhere. Finally, she reached a customer service manager who listened carefully and worked to understand what had gone wrong.

The company refunded her money, but the experience had already cost too much time and frustration. The refund solved the transaction. The service failure lost a customer.

Businesses often focus heavily on acquiring customers, but keeping them depends on something much simpler: making people feel valued.

Research has consistently shown that customers often leave not because of product failures, but because they feel ignored, unappreciated, or poorly treated. Products matter. Pricing matters. But relationships matter more.

During my career in sales and marketing, I learned that service is a covenant between provider and customer. It is an understanding that when someone places trust in us, we have an obligation to honor that trust.

The same principle applies beyond business.

This week, while volunteering at the North Texas Pantry, we were distributing food during a particularly hot morning. Near the end of the distribution period, one client repeatedly asked for items that had already run out. After several requests, I responded with visible frustration.

His reaction stopped me in my tracks.

Though I was tired and trying to help, I had failed to treat him with the patience and respect I expected from others. I apologized and explained that arriving earlier would provide more choices in the future.

The exchange reminded me that service is not measured by what we give. It is measured by how we make people feel.

Whether we are raising children, mentoring employees, helping neighbors, serving customers, or volunteering in our communities, the goal is the same: to make a positive difference.

And that begins with recognizing the humanity in the person standing in front of us. This means meeting the client where they are, rather than expecting them to act as you prefer.

Respect first. Service second. Impact follows.

Jack Browne is a community activist and former technology executive who believes in the power of connection, service, and lifelong learning.

Contrary to the belief that America’s best days are behind us, I remain deeply optimistic about the future awaiting my children, grandchildren, and generations yet to come. History reminds us that progress is rarely linear yet consistently forward.

I was born in the 1950s, when polio, measles, and other diseases shaped daily life. In school, we practiced fire drills and ducked under desks for nuclear threats. Fear existed, but so did resilience.

A friend slightly older recalls growing up in Wichita Falls with weeds pushing through cracked wooden floors, heating with a wood stove, and winter walks to an outhouse. These were real conditions, not distant stories.

My father moved to Dallas to pursue aviation in the mid-1950’s, taking a materials engineering role building A7 aircraft for Vietnam at 6,000 dollars a year. His parents had grown up in the Ozarks in two room homes without plumbing. My grandfather served in World War I, used an early GI bill, and became a one of the first 24 teachers at Stephen F. Austin University.

Family stories reveal grit. Bonnie and Clyde once stole my grandparents Model T. During the Depression, my father raised a pet chicken. One day it became dinner, and he never ate chicken again.

My career spanned more than 45 years across engineering and technology marketing. I worked with leading companies worldwide, helping bring microprocessors to market. I traveled over seven million miles, visited more than 20 countries, and built lasting global relationships.

These experiences showed how fortunate Americans are. In parts of Europe, families approached buying appliances with the caution Americans used for cars, while homes often felt unattainable.

The twentieth century economy was driven by oil and manufacturing, strengthened during World War II. The Cold War accelerated innovation, and the space race helped create semiconductors and personal computing.

Today, we are firmly in the information age. Artificial intelligence is reaching most Americans through smartphones and expanding globally.

Investment levels are enormous, with hundreds of billions flowing into data centers, representing roughly 2% of GDP. History shows this scale is familiar, as railroad expansion once exceeded 5% of GDP.

The transformation today is digital. People use AI to build websites, analyze data, and accelerate discoveries. Earlier generations relied on slide rules to achieve similar breakthroughs.

A smartphone now exceeds the computing power of Apollo systems that reached the moon.

Companies already see results. By 2025, JPMorgan deployed AI tools to over 200,000 employees, generating significant value across operations and decision making.

Virginia leads in data centers, with Texas close behind. Texas grid is guided by ERCOT, enabling faster decisions than multi state systems that require consensus of other states and federal agencies.

State leaders are balancing growth with responsibility, ensuring expansion does not burden residents or strain water resources as Governor Abbott published guidelines earlier this June.

In Wichita Falls, planned data centers represent major investment. From a 7.5 billion dollar tax base, growth in the tax base can fund projects that drive renewal, improve infrastructure, and create jobs without raising taxes.

Beyond infrastructure growth, new jobs bring economic momentum. Once ranked eleventh largest city in Texas, Wichita Falls now ranks in the forties. The future remains full of opportunity. Like our community, America needs skilled people ready to learn and adapt.

As President Kennedy said, “Ask what you can do for your country.” Artificial intelligence is this century’s defining race.

The opportunity ahead is not automatic, and it will require discipline, investment, and a commitment to education and workforce development.

Communities must align schools, local leaders, and employers to prepare people for technical roles that did not exist a decade ago. Skills in data, cybersecurity, infrastructure, and advanced manufacturing will define the next generation of jobs.

At the same time, character, curiosity, and accountability remain timeless advantages. Technology changes, but human drive still determines outcomes. If we stay focused on building talent and strengthening communities, places like Wichita Falls can participate fully in this new economy rather than watching from the sidelines.

The path forward is within reach, and it is worth the effort.

With thoughtful leadership, public private partnership, and a willingness to act, progress can accelerate.

Each generation has faced uncertainty yet chosen to move forward. Ours is no different. The tools are stronger, the reach is broader, and the potential is greater.

What matters now is execution and belief in what comes next. Let us move with purpose, invest with confidence, and build a future worthy of those who follow us all.

America’s best days are not behind us. They are still unfolding.

Jack Browne is a community activist and former technology executive who believes in the power of connection, service, and lifelong learning.

“Don’t mess with Texas” is more than a state-wide message. It is a standard we can choose to live by locally as well.

Each day I walk the street leading from my home into a neighboring area, and each day I pick up what others leave. Bottle caps, cigarette packs, and fast-food bags show up again and again.

By week’s end, I fill three trash bags with litter someone else decided was not worth carrying a little farther. That pattern tells us something about habit, expectation, and what we tolerate.

When something repeats often enough, it stops surprising us and starts defining us. Litter is not just trash; it signals how we treat shared space. It reveals whether we see our streets as an extension of home or a place where responsibility ends once the window rolls up. The distance between tossing and carrying something home is small, but the mindset gap is wide.

One choice assumes someone else will handle it; the other claims ownership. I saw that difference on Sunday. While mowing, a pickup hauling tree trimmings turned into the alley and backed toward a bend. The driver started dumping the load into brush along a city easement.

I called the nonemergency line, shared the plate and description, and waited. An officer arrived withing 15 minutes, but the driver was gone. The system worked, yet timing limited the outcome.

Moments like that can frustrate, but they also reveal opportunity. Reporting matters, and details matter more. Photos, plates, and clear descriptions improve results, but enforcement alone cannot outpace a culture that accepts littering.

If behavior feels normal, it continues. Texas faced this decades ago. In 1986, leaders launched a campaign to reduce roadside waste and clean up highways. It worked because it connected pride with responsibility. People protect what they believe belongs to them.

Wichita Falls can apply that idea now. Real change requires a message that is local, visible, and repeated. Leaders, business owners, teachers, and neighbors all reinforce expectations. When people see pride in action, behavior shifts over time. Culture forms through repetition, and visible examples create pressure to follow.

Making the right choice easier also matters. Residents hauling debris have a proper destination at the transfer station on Lawrence Road, available to those who pay for city trash services. Clear information about location and hours reduces excuses. Pairing access with simple reporting tools gives residents practical ways to respond. Consistent use strengthens accountability.

Community cleanups build momentum. When people show up, others notice. Small wins, like a cleaner block, signal progress. Over time, those signals reshape expectations across neighborhoods. This comes down to ownership. Clean streets do not happen by accident or because a few people carry the burden.

They happen when individuals decide their place matters. That means carrying trash longer, using proper facilities, and speaking up when something is wrong. Pride is not a slogan; it is a pattern of behavior. When practiced consistently, others notice and follow. Culture shifts when ordinary routines change, when drivers keep trash in the car, when contractors secure their loads, and when neighbors engage respectfully.

Encouraging that shift requires reminder and reinforcement. Signs, campaigns, and consistent messaging keep the issue visible. Recognition matters too, because people respond to positive feedback.

Schools, civic groups, and workplaces can promote shared responsibility. Over time, participation grows and the norm strengthens. Accountability remains essential, but it works best alongside ownership. Reporting violations documents problems, and follow-up reinforces standards. Together, these actions produce a cleaner, safer, more respected community. That outcome is achievable if enough people act.

Each small decision contributes to something larger, shaping how Wichita Falls looks and feels. In the end, pride becomes visible through daily action, not words alone. Together, we define the standard.

Start with a simple step: keep a litter bag in your car and use it every day. Small habits scale when they are shared and repeated across a city. One neighbor modeling care influences another, and that example compounds over time. Conversations also matter. A quick, respectful reminder can reset expectations without creating conflict.

The goal is not perfection, but progress sustained through consistency. When standards are clear and visible, more people choose to meet them.

That is how communities improve, one decision at a time. Keep going, keep modeling, and keep expecting better from ourselves and each other. The result is momentum that sustains itself, where pride becomes the default and neglect stands out as the exception — not the norm anymore — in our community.

Jack Browne is a community activist and former technology executive who believes in the power of connection, service, and lifelong learning.

As we celebrate the two hundred fiftieth anniversary of our country this weekend, it is worth pausing to give thanks and recognize that we live in an extraordinary nation. The United States remains an ongoing experiment built on respect for citizens, their rights, and their dreams.

For all its imperfections, it continues to offer opportunity at a scale unmatched elsewhere. Nearly all of us can trace our lineage to other countries, to ancestors who decided their hopes could become reality here. They arrived with belief, effort, and a willingness to trade comfort for possibility.

Around the world, people still look to America as a proving ground for capitalism, unalienable rights, and the idea that your starting point does not have to define your finish. That attention is both a compliment and a responsibility.

Experiments only succeed when participants stay engaged, learn from failure, and commit to improvement. Citizenship is not passive. If you truly value something—your family, your freedom, your homeland—you should be willing to protect it, work for it, and at times sacrifice for it.

Ask any parent what they would do to protect their children and you quickly understand the core of this ideal. Love creates responsibility, and responsibility demands action.

Sacrifice, however, is never free. It introduces stress, tradeoffs, and the constant pressure of competing priorities. There is rarely enough time or energy to do everything that feels important for yourself, your family, your community, and your country. Left unmanaged, those conflicts can pull us off balance and erode the very values we are trying to defend.

The good news is that balance is a skill, and like most skills it can be improved with the right tools and habits. Managing time, focus, and progress is not about perfection; it is about intentional choices.

When my grandsons from Tokyo visited for a month with my daughter, she used a simple time wheel to guide their days. Screen time, outdoor play, learning, and rest were intentionally balanced. The structure did not limit their freedom; it enhanced their enjoyment by ensuring no single activity crowded out the others.

I apply the same principle in my own life by organizing around four practical quadrants:

• Friends and family,

• House and home,

• Health and wellbeing,

• Work and study.

This framework creates clarity about what deserves attention now versus what can wait. It helps me focus on what is necessary, urgent, and important, while keeping the stress of other people’s priorities from knocking me off balance.

Balance does not mean equal time; it means appropriate investment based on values. This approach matters because the freedoms we celebrate were not handed to us fully formed. They were earned through effort, debate, and sacrifice by people who believed in something larger than themselves.

Honoring that legacy is not just about ceremonies or words. It is about living in a way that sustains opportunity for those who come next. That means showing up for our families, contributing to our communities, caring for our health, and continuing to learn so we remain capable and useful.

Preparing the next generation for greatness requires more than telling them they are lucky. It requires modeling discipline, gratitude, and resilience. The way we handle stress, disagreement, and disappointment teaches far more than lectures ever will.

Thoughts that help me manage life’s ups and downs often come from Jim Jackson’s Daily Awakenings, shared by a friend. Simple reminders like, “Offer everyone you meet cheerfulness, respect, and appreciation,” and, “When you are angry, substitute gratitude,” sound basic, yet they are powerful practices.

Milestones invite reflection, but they also call for recommitment. Democracy, opportunity, and freedom are not self-sustaining systems; they depend on daily choices made quietly by millions of people.

Voting matters, but so does listening. Laws matter, but so does character.

Progress comes less from outrage and more from persistence, competence, and a willingness to cooperate without surrendering principle.

When we manage our own lives well, we reduce noise and increase contribution. When we treat others with dignity, even in disagreement, we strengthen the fabric that holds diverse people together.

As we mark this milestone birthday, remember that America’s strength has always come from ordinary people making intentional choices in their own lives.

Keep your balance. Make a difference where you stand. Invest in others. Do the unglamorous work of responsibility with a grateful heart.

In doing so, you honor those whose sacrifices gave us a starting point far richer than many enjoy, and you help ensure opportunity remains alive for generations still to come.

Happy birthday, America.

Jack Browne is a community activist and former technology executive who believes in the power of connection, service, and lifelong learning.

NASCAR two-time Cup Series champion Kyle Busch passed away May 21 as severe pneumonia progressed into sepsis. Last week’s Coca-Cola 600 became a place of remembrance, not just competition, as peers paused to honor a driver who refused to coast.

Dale Earnhardt Jr. narrated a video tribute that traced Busch’s improbable start at 16 in the Craftsman Truck Series and the relentless arc of a 22-year pursuit of excellence.

It ended with Busch explaining why winning races never gets old: “because you never know when the last one is.”

That sentence lingers because it applies far beyond a racetrack. Busch hated to lose, not out of spite, but out of respect for the opportunity. He wanted to be considered among the greatest, and he worked toward that goal every single day.

The lesson is not about trophies; it is about standards. Showing up prepared, competing honestly, and emptying the tank regardless of conditions is a character choice.

Earlier this week I spoke with a father wrestling with expectations for his children. He said he wants them to do their best. If an A is within reach, pursue it. If a C is the best they can do, accept it, provided the effort was real.

That wisdom mirrors Busch’s ethic. Results matter, but integrity in the attempt matters more. Effort is the one thing we can always control.

Six years ago, the world changed as cumulative COVID-19 deaths reached 100,000. Overnight we scattered into isolation, meeting on screens and learning to live apart. Social media filled the gaps, clustering us into like-minded groups curated by algorithms. When disagreement felt uncomfortable, we unfollowed others. Community became convenient — not courageous.

The consequences show up everywhere. We are more tribal, keeping company with those who think like us and avoiding the rest.

Returning to offices sparked rebellion as if the basic covenant of employment had vanished. Inflation pinched, resentment grew, and anxiety followed as automation and artificial intelligence threatened familiar roles.

Standards slipped as fairness became subjective and obligations felt optional.

Busch’s legacy offers a counterweight. Tenacity is not stubbornness; it is service to the moment. It is respecting teammates, competitors, and fans enough to give them your best. That mindset belongs in families, workplaces, and neighborhoods.

Being present, prepared, and accountable is how trust is rebuilt.

Service extends beyond our own circles. In trying times, communities depend on nonprofits that stand in the gap, feeding families, tutoring children, caring for seniors, and restoring hope. Supporting them with time, talent, and treasure is not charity; it is stewardship.

When we volunteer skills, mentor generously, or give consistently, we strengthen the social fabric frayed by distance and division.

The question is personal. How are you doing?

Are you modeling the discipline and grace your children and peers need? Excellence is contagious. So is apathy. Choosing the former requires daily decisions to listen across differences, to work with purpose, and to contribute beyond ourselves.

We can be better as a people if we remember why effort matters. Life, like racing, is uncertain. The green flag drops without warning, and the checkered flag arrives too soon. Do the work. Serve others. Race every lap like it could be the last.

Work is one of the primary places character is practiced. A fair day’s pay for a fair day’s work is not nostalgia; it is a promise that cuts both ways.

Employers owe clarity, safety, and respect. Workers owe effort, honesty, and accountability. When either side breaks the covenant, cynicism spreads. Rebuilding it starts with small, visible acts: arriving on time, preparing for meetings, coaching instead of complaining, and measuring success by outcomes that help customers and colleagues alike.

In a world anxious about replacement by machines, the most durable skills remain human ones — judgment, empathy, reliability, and the willingness to learn. Communities thrive when those skills are shared, especially with organizations doing hard work in hard places.

Donate hours to a food pantry, offer expertise to a shelter’s board, sponsor a student, or fund a scholarship. These investments multiply, restoring dignity and opportunity where they are needed most.

Leadership is rarely loud. It is consistent.

It shows up on ordinary days, chooses collaboration over contempt, and treats differences as data, not threats. When we practice that posture, workplaces heal, families steady, and neighbors rediscover common ground worth protecting together.

Standards matter, especially right now.

On a quiet night after a long day, a father tightens a loose bike chain, steps back, and smiles as his child rides off steady and confident.

Jack Browne is a community activist and former technology executive who believes in the power of connection, service, and lifelong learning.

Two is one, one is none is not just a Navy SEAL slogan. It is a discipline of responsibility tied directly to success. When we bet everything on a single assumption, tool, or hero, we accept fragility.

A plan without a backup is not confident execution; it is hope dressed up as strategy. Resilience is built intentionally by people who assume something will eventually break and prepare accordingly.

With more than a thousand nonprofits operating in communities like Wichita Falls, the difference between struggling and thriving is rarely passion. It is process.

The most effective organizations build repeatable systems for client engagement, volunteer development, and stewardship. They plan for turnover, document what works, and refuse to rely on one person, one grant, or one good year.

Real resilience comes from options, redundancy, and the humility to admit that people get sick, markets turn, donors change priorities, and good intentions collide with reality. If you don’t play, you don’t win. But if you play with only one card, you lose the moment it bends. Sustainable service requires depth, not dependence.

Most worthwhile work is never finished. We crave the box checked and the banner unfurled. Yet nearly every meaningful job has a maintenance phase that demands patience long after the applause fades. Teaching skills, building confidence, and restoring dignity are not one-time events. They require reinforcement and application.

Passing skills to clients and inviting them to serve as sponsors, mentors, or coaches turns lessons into action.

Service cements learning. It creates lasting experiences that hold during hard seasons and shine as examples for others still searching for hope. The student becomes the teacher, and the community grows stronger.

Communities, teams, and careers resemble gardens more than monuments. Weeds grow back. Seasons change. New plants must be integrated as needs evolve. Ignore the tending and entropy takes over. Embrace it and growth compounds quietly. Healthy nonprofits budget for maintenance, not just expansion.

The earth spins, the sun rises and sets, and still many of us get trapped in the trivial. We chase perfect instead of continual progress, polishing edges no one will notice while missing chances to help someone standing right beside us.

Perfect is the enemy of the good because good ships, serves, and learns. In uncertain times, motion guided by values beats hesitation justified by spreadsheets.

KISS — Keep It Simple Stupid — is not an insult; it is mercy. The best processes use the fewest steps necessary to create value. Complexity often hides confusion and slows service.

Simple systems are easier to explain, easier to fix, and easier to hand off. They free energy for what matters: serving clients, supporting volunteers, and extending help beyond organizational walls.

Saying don’t make it so is really saying don’t make it about you. Keep your eye on the ball is advice about focus, not tunnel vision.

Focus on outcomes — not theatrics. Focus on people — not just metrics. Focus on service — not self. When nonprofits stretch limited resources to meet growing needs, clarity becomes oxygen. Time volunteered with intention, talent applied with humility, and treasure given consistently stabilize lives when the ground feels unsteady. Small, steady contributions outperform grand gestures that burn out.

If frogs had wings, their butts wouldn’t hit the ground. Wishing away constraints is comforting, but dealing with them is productive. Constraints force creativity, invite collaboration, and remind us we need one another. Empathy starts with understanding.

Plutarch observed that we profit even from those who talk badly if we know how to listen. In community work, that means hearing frustration as data, not disrespect. Resistance often masks fear, and fear softens when met with dignity. Leaders who listen build trust. Communities that listen build capacity.

Service is where these ideas leave theory and become practice. In trying times, people do not need saviors; they need neighbors. They need someone to show up on time, do what was promised, and stay when it gets repetitive. Time is presence. Talent is competence shared without ego. Treasure is fuel applied transparently.

When communities coordinate time, talent, and treasure, nonprofits stop lurching from crisis to crisis and start building capacity. Backups matter. Cross train volunteers. Document processes. Share leadership.

The work is rarely glamorous and always human. Yet the compounding effect is profound. A meal served becomes trust. A repaired roof becomes dignity. A tutoring hour becomes confidence.

I once watched a volunteer replace a burned-out lightbulb at a shelter; no one noticed, but the hallway stayed bright all night.

Jack Browne is a community activist and former technology executive who believes in the power of connection, service, and lifelong learning.

Problem solving demands creativity — moving boundaries to open our eyes to better options.

Many times, we believe the best solution is obvious — a straight-line continuation of past success. We know the actions to take, the challenges to overcome, and we focus on powering through obstacles we’ve beaten before. That mindset feels safe, efficient, and responsible.

It is also limiting, because it assumes the future must look like the past.

Last month the North Texas Food Pantry lost a valuable resource when another driver collided with the van used to transport food from partners at the Wichita Falls Area Food Bank and Sam’s Club to their facility on Tyler Street, where volunteers sort, stage, and prepare food for delivery to roughly 2,000 people each month.

Through grants and donations, some funds were available for a replacement vehicle. After weeks of waiting, the other driver’s insurance company finalized payment for totaling the pantry’s van.

The obstacles to this new vehicle solution multiplied quickly. There was a strong desire to “trade up” to a box truck, which increased the required funding. There was also concern about where to safely store a new vehicle, informed by past incidents of break-ins and vandalism as the old van sat in the parking lot when not in use.

As the projected investment grew, the board became cautious. Committing most of the available funds to a vehicle would leave little margin for repairs, emergencies, or surprises that inevitably appear in nonprofit operations.

In the meantime, temporary arrangements were made with the Wichita Falls Area Food Bank to deliver food directly to the North Texas Food Pantry.

The absence of the pantry owned vehicle felt risky at first, but the system worked. Recognizing nothing is permanent this solution works for the time being.

Volunteers adjusted. Processes shifted. Clients continued receiving food. What began as a stopgap slowly became part of the normal workflow.

This raised an uncomfortable question. Was the purchase of another vehicle truly the only path forward? The WFAFB already provides regular deliveries to many of its ninety partner agencies.

Instead of draining contingency funds to purchase a new vehicle, the pantry can use funds once earmarked for fuel, maintenance, insurance, and storage of a pantry owned vehicle leveraging the partnership with WFAFB — but without the added stress of protecting an unattended pantry vehicle.

During my most recent volunteer shift, the results were clear. While food options narrowed slightly, the mission remained intact.

Food arrives on the days of client deliveries. Volunteers sort and prepare deliveries during the two hours before client service on Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday mornings. From 9-11 a.m., families pick up food to extend what they have for the coming month. Life continues.

Creativity in problem solving is not about reckless risk.

It is about questioning assumptions before committing scarce resources. Sometimes the best move is not advancing harder down a familiar road but stepping off it.

For leaders, especially in mission-driven organizations, this experience offers a quiet lesson. Constraints can sharpen thinking rather than suffocate it.

When pride, habit, or precedent define the solution too early, innovation rarely survives. By slowing decisions, inviting partners into the problem, and honoring the core mission above ownership or optics, organizations often discover options hiding in plain sight.

In closing, I also note that in the face of rising fuel costs, more families are using the resources of food pantries in our area as well as across the nation.

If you can help with your time, talent or treasure others will appreciate you.

Jack Browne is a community activist and former technology executive who believes in the power of connection, service, and lifelong learning.

Have others disappointed you in their situational ethics?

Imagine you are U.S. President Ronald Reagan negotiating reductions in nuclear weapons with another head of state whose thinking and values differ dramatically in the 1980s. Reagan found himself in this position as the Cold War pitted Western capitalistic ethics and values against the socialistic communist culture of the USSR which dissolved in 1991.

One expert briefing Reagan, scholar Suzanne Massie, advised him that Russians like to talk in proverbs, teaching him the phrase “doveryai, no proveryai,” meaning trust but verify.

Reagan often repeated the phrase publicly to emphasize the extensive verification procedures that would allow both sides to monitor compliance during the signing of the Intermediate-Range Nuclear Forces Treaty alongside Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev.

Negotiations often force us to balance progress with principle. We want closure and momentum, yet every compromise tests our boundaries. Situational ethics creep in when convenience overrides discipline.

Last summer, while searching for a new tenant for a rental property, I faced two choices. One applicant had the cash deposit. Another had great credit but would not move in for a month. Hungry for cash flow, I compromised.

By the second month, rent arrived via CashApp. If I wanted same-day access to the funds, a fee applied. Grumbling at more friction just to pay my own bills, I accepted that compromise too.

Two months later, the tenant asked to split rent into twice-monthly payments. You can see the train wreck coming. Last month no rent arrived. When evicted the tenant left furniture, food, clothing, and dishes. I arranged a roll-off, cleared the property, and began preparing for someone new.

The experience reminded me why rules matter — rent is due on the fifth, else late fees accrue, with nonpayment triggering eviction by the fifteenth. Operating this way creates predictability, protects cash flow, and reduces emotional decision-making.

These stories are not rare. In 2000, Enron appeared to be the golden child of energy. Built as a diversified power trader, the company found and exploited a regulatory gap in California. Power generated in state and power imported from outside were governed differently. Enron shifted electricity on paper to out-of-state entities and sold it back at inflated prices.

Margins surged. Wall Street applauded. The innovation was financial, not operational.

When scrutiny arrived, the illusion collapsed. By 2001, Enron followed earlier cautionary tales like Miniscribe, whose executives in 1985 shipped boxes filled with bricks rather than hard disks to fake inventory.

Closer to home, we face similar dilemmas. Do we hand cash to someone on the street hoping it buys food, knowing it may not?

Or do we donate through organizations designed to address root causes? Faith Mission urges the latter, arguing compassion paired with structure leads to better outcomes.

Trust failures also emerge in polished offices.

Many Wichita Falls investors once selected a financial advisor admired for visibility and community involvement — only to discover betrayal as over one-million dollars of client funds disappeared.

Seeing the image of success compromised oversight.

Boards, whether nonprofit or corporate, face the same tension. The pressure to fill leadership roles quickly can shortcut reference checks and validation. I have served on boards where optimism replaced verification, and organizations paid dearly when reality contradicted résumés.

Retail businesses illustrate another lesson. Service quality has become a defense against theft. Secured merchandise and attentive associates walking products to registers reduce shrinkage while improving customer experience.

Verification here is procedural, not personal. However personal service in implementing these processes inspires customers to return.

Nonprofits invite similar diligence. Tools like CharityNavigator and CharityWatch allow donors to confirm impact and stewardship. Trust grows stronger when paired with evidence.

Doveryai, no proveryai. Those three words are neither cynical nor cold. They recognize human fallibility while preserving cooperation.

Verification protects relationships by setting clear expectations and consequences. Verification doesn’t mean abandoning standards.

It means extending opportunity responsibly. Whether negotiating nations, managing property, donating, or hiring, leadership asks us to align goodwill with structure. Trust opens doors. Verification keeps them from slamming.

When both travel together, progress becomes sustainable. Without that balance, disappointment replaces momentum. With it, we protect ourselves while still believing in what others can become.

Consider who you see when someone approaches you for trust. A victim? Or a test of your leadership, your compassion, and your willingness to verify before believing.

Those extra moments of reflection are where character is revealed. Leadership is rarely about grand gestures, but about small decisions repeated consistently.

The discipline to pause, ask, and confirm signals respect for others and for oneself. In the long run, that discipline builds credibility, resilience, and a community worthy of our trust, our resources, and our shared future.

Doveryai, no proveryai.

Jack Browne is a community activist and former technology executive who believes in the power of connection, service, and lifelong learning.

Caption: Who do you see? Someone down on their luck or looking for their next gullible victim.

Will you lead?

That question sits quietly under every big decision we make. Leaders show the way to the future — not by predicting it perfectly but by deciding which future they are willing to work toward.

There are many futures possible. Some are expansive and inclusive, creating opportunity for many. Others concentrate gains for a few.

Vision is choice, and leadership begins the moment someone decides which future is worth building.

Some leaders are born with unusual confidence or charisma, but most learn the skills required to shape a vision of a better way, product, or experience and then invite others into that picture.

The core skill is not authority. It is clarity. People follow what they understand and what resonates with their own hopes. When a leader names a destination clearly, momentum begins to form almost on its own.

Storytelling is the bridge between vision and action. Stories translate abstract ideas into something people can feel.

Think about Disney’s entertainment parks drawing millions of visitors year after year. Families return because those parks deliver consistent, safe, joyful experiences that connect generations. Parents remember how they felt as children and want to recreate that memory with their own kids.

That emotional continuity is not accidental. It is the product of a story about family, imagination, and trust that has been reinforced for decades.

Steve Jobs understood this power deeply. When he founded Apple, his vision centered on simplicity.

Technology did not need more features. It needed better experiences. Devices should work so intuitively that they fade into the background of life.

By removing unnecessary decisions, Apple reduced the mental effort required of users and expanded who could confidently use technology. Ease of use became a strategic advantage — not a compromise.

Jobs also demonstrated that leadership does not require inventing everything yourself.

He gathered ideas, explored emerging concepts, and synthesized what he saw into a compelling whole. His visits to Xerox PARC exposed him to the mouse, graphical interfaces, networking, and laser printing.

Apple reimagined those innovations into the Macintosh, introduced in 1984, and changed how people interacted with personal computers. An entire industry pivoted as a result.

That vision showed up in small, human moments. With my 2-year-old toddler tapping icons on a screen without fear or instruction came the proof that complexity had been tamed.

Desktop publishing flourished. Competitors followed with their own graphical systems. A clear vision reshaped expectations for everyone.

Contrast that with another bold vision from automotive executive John DeLorean. After the success of the Pontiac GTO, he imagined an ethical, durable sports car that would look like nothing else on the road.

The DMC-12 featured stainless steel panels, gullwing doors designed for strength, and a rear mounted engine. Built quickly with a lean workforce of 374 people, it reached the market in record time. Then reality intervened. High interest rates, economic recession, and cash constraints overwhelmed the company. Production ended after less than two years.

Yet the DeLorean lives on in cultural memory through “Back to the Future,” where it symbolizes possibility and imagination.

Both Apple and DeLorean reveal the same truth. Vision can inspire extraordinary outcomes, but sustainability determines how long that inspiration can operate in the real world.

Leadership lessons are not confined to global brands. They appear every day in our own communities.

A few letters, like BBQ, can trigger powerful local loyalty when chefs consistently deliver quality and hospitality. Our city leaders are articulating a vision of economic renewal and attracting investment that creates opportunity and growth.

Programs like Café con Leche’s Road to College initiative with WFISD show leadership at a personal scale.

By combining mentoring, academic preparation, service, and responsibility, students are guided toward post-secondary success. Participants are not treated as passive recipients of help, but as emerging leaders expected to support others. The multiplier effect is intentional.

Leadership is practiced through example, empathy, and accountability.

Exposure to role models, practical guidance, and community involvement builds confidence, especially for first generation students. Over time, success is measured not only by individual achievement, but by how many others are lifted along the way.

Leadership rarely announces itself with titles or applause. It shows up in conversations, decisions, and standards people choose to uphold.

Every team, family, classroom, and workplace is shaped by someone setting direction. When clarity replaces noise, trust grows. When behavior matches words, credibility compounds.

The future is not built all at once, but one choice at a time. Those choices send signals about what matters.

Others are always watching, deciding whether this is a vision worth supporting.

That is the quiet power of stepping up before being asked. It is leadership practiced — not declared or deferred until later, someday, or never.

So, dust off your vision of what the future could be. Leadership is an invitation. Step forward and invite others to help make it real.

Jack Browne is a community activist and former technology executive who believes in the power of connection, service, and lifelong learning.

Caption: Road to College Mentors lead tutorials at MSU’s West College of Education and Professional Studies for high school students to achieve their academic goals. Leaders making dreams a reality. Photo provided by Café con Leché

Why Are You Here?

People have wrestled with that question for as long as we have history. Philosophers, theologians, leaders, and everyday citizens have all tried to name it, define it, or outgrow it. Most of us circle back eventually.

In a consumer-driven economy, the default answers are easy. Success becomes square footage. Horsepower. Balance sheets. Titles. Upgrades. Likes. Followers. Validation extracted in public and tallied digitally.

But hearses do not have trailer hitches.

And cemeteries do not have influencer sections.

You cannot take it with you. And long after the toys break and the algorithms move on, what remains is impact. Contribution. The lives you shaped. The moments you showed up when it mattered.

If there is a scoreboard that counts, it is measured in people, not possessions.

Wichita Falls understands this, even when we forget it.

Often referred to as “the city that faith built,” this community has quietly sustained a culture of service for generations. As of last October, 1,173 registered 501(c)(3) nonprofit organizations operated locally, stewarding more than $3 billion in assets and over a billion dollars in annual income. That is not accidental. That reflects values.

This is an ecosystem of service. And everyone in it eventually plays two roles: giver and getter.

Most of us spend parts of life on both sides.

When things go well, we contribute. When life hits hard, we receive. The healthiest communities are honest about that dynamic and design systems that make both roles dignified.

Nonprofit boards sit at the intersection. They are not honorary titles or résumé padding. Boards are where mission becomes execution. They require people willing to wrestle with messy, unsolvable problems, to set priorities under constraints, to raise resources, and to step in when staff capacity meets real human need.

That work changes lives in specific, repeatable ways. Consider just a dozen or so organizations and their mission impact.

Adult Literacy, for example, does not trade in abstractions. Volunteers teach adults how to read forms, write clearly, and build job-ready skills. One learner at a time. The outcome is simple and profound: people gaining independence, credentials, and the ability to provide for their families.

Big Brothers Big Sisters creates life-changing mentorships by matching children with consistent, caring adults. These “Bigs” do not fix everything. They show up. Over time, one relationship builds confidence, accountability, and healthier decision-making during the years that matter most.

Camp Fire empowers young people through inclusive after-school and summer programs that foster belonging and confidence. Children discover strengths they did not know they had through camps, mentoring, and service. Skills learned here carry forward into classrooms, families, and future careers.

CASA, Court Appointed Special Advocates, serves children navigating some of the hardest transitions imaginable. Trained volunteers advocate for abused and neglected youth, ensuring one child’s voice is heard in court and their best interests are protected through consistent presence and observation. Stability does not happen by chance. It is defended.

Faith Mission meets immediate needs while restoring dignity and self-worth. They shelter, feed, and counsel men, women, and families experiencing homelessness, guiding individuals from crisis to stability through coordinated daily support. Faith, discipline, and skills build toward sustainable outcomes. Today, a new capital campaign is expanding capacity and renewing facilities to meet rising demand for homeless men.

Leadership Wichita Falls invests upstream. It develops civic leaders by connecting emerging professionals to real community challenges. Participants learn how to collaborate across sectors and return with the capacity to drive measurable improvements where they live and work.

North Texas Food Pantry fights hunger with efficiency and compassion. Volunteers source, pack, and distribute nutritious food so families can make it through another week without choosing between groceries and utilities. Board members work behind the scenes to secure funding and design solutions that scale impact responsibly.

Scouting builds character, leadership, and resilience through experiential learning. Youth master practical skills, serve others, and grow into responsible adults through shared challenges. The relationships formed often extend for decades, as their alumni network continue to serve and inspire the next generation.

Service organizations like Rotary, Kiwanis, Optimists, and Lions clubs offer structured entry points into community impact. Members engage as doers, leaders, and champions of causes ranging from youth development to recreation and scholarships. They mobilize volunteers, funding, and attention where it is needed most.

Giving is not instinctive. It is a skill. Like any skill, it improves with use.

When exercised deliberately, it compounds. You may help educate the future doctor who cures cancer. Or support the mentor who keeps a young person out of the justice system. Or strengthen the parent who raises a resilient family.

You do not control the outcomes. You do control whether you contribute.

Help someone navigate their path. Invest your time, judgment, and resources thoughtfully. Do your best work in service of others. Step back.

Then watch what grows.

That may be the best answer any of us gets to the question: Why are you here?

Jack Browne is a community activist and former technology executive who believes in the power of connection, service, and lifelong learning.

Two weeks ago, marked the 50-year anniversary of an understated but world changing moment: April 7, 1969, when the first Request for Comments, RFC 1, titled “Host Software,” was published.

That short technical document described how packets of data would move from one computer to another. From that simple idea came ARPANET — Advanced Research Projects Agency Network — and eventually the Internet.

What made the RFC process remarkable was not just the technology, but the philosophy.

The documents were open. Anyone could read them. Anyone could contribute. There was no paywall, no gatekeeper, no requirement to belong to a certain institution. That openness allowed a distributed network of researchers, engineers, and operators to rapidly improve and expand the system together.

More than 8,500 RFCs later, the Internet has grown into the global platform that powers our economy and daily lives.

Work, commerce, communication, learning, and entertainment now ride on infrastructure most of us never think about. We carry supercomputers in our pockets and expect instant access to nearly everything.

Back in 1970, Wichita Falls had a population of 96,265, making it roughly the 10th to 12th largest city in Texas at the time. Today, with about 102,400 residents, the city ranks around 42nd. For decades, many communities like ours watched growth and investment gravitate elsewhere.

That chapter is closing.

By 2030, Wichita Falls will look very different as large-scale internet infrastructure arrives in force.

Planned data centers and a 5,500-acre solar farm project from TotalEnergies Renewables USA in Wichita County are no longer abstract ideas. They are real, permitted, and underway.

The solar project alone will deploy roughly 1.56 million panels with an estimated investment of $830 million. County commissioners recently approved a $1.25 million annual payment in lieu of taxes agreement tied to that development.

On the data center side, the scale is significant. Construction on the first of several projects, the Skybox Power Campus, is expected to begin this year. During peak construction, between 3,500 and 5,000 workers could be on site, building up to ten 150,000 square foot facilities. Over time, the campus could reach three to four million square feet, with initial operations beginning around 2028.

Additional projects are moving forward across the region.

Kings Ranch Data plans two data centers on 33 acres near Riley Road on the city’s northeast side.

A separate 300-megawatt data center with on-site battery storage and solar received rezoning approval in November off Kiel Lane and City View Drive, potentially hosting up to 2.3 million square feet of space.

Just last week, a Planned Unit Development for another data center project north of Airport Drive received Planning and Zoning approval. That site includes nine two story buildings, each 150,000 square feet, and could employ anywhere from 1,000 to 6,000 workers during construction.

This activity is not isolated.

Nearby Wilbarger County already has dirt work underway for a Google data center that will draw power from the TotalEnergies solar farm.

Archer and Young counties are also in discussions related to similar projects and the temporary workforces that accompany them.

With scale comes concern.

At recent Planning and Zoning meetings, city leaders discussed draft ordinances to guide temporary housing for construction workers. The goal is to meet short-term demand while ensuring land is restored when the need passes.

City staff have visited Abilene and other communities to learn both best practices and unintended consequences. The intent is to preserve what residents value while accommodating growth.

Public comments also raised questions about water and electricity.

Developers responded with details that rarely make headlines. Modern data centers use closed-loop cooling systems that require a one-time water charge of roughly 500,000 gallons. That is about the equivalent of ten average Wichita Falls homes using 4,000 gallons per month. Ongoing water use is minimal.

On the power side, Wichita Falls benefits from robust transmission infrastructure built over decades, originally to serve the Oklaunion coal plant and later expanded to integrate wind generation into the Electric Reliability Council of Texas, or ERCOT grid.

ERCOT actively manages large loads and can throttle usage during peak demand to maintain reliability. These facilities are designed to be flexible partners to the grid, not threats to it.

Housing pressure is likely. Based on experiences in Abilene, rents will rise during peak construction periods. That is precisely why proactive planning for temporary housing matters.

The opportunity is substantial. Wichita Falls currently has a tax base of around $8 billion. The Skybox project alone projects up to $12 billion in investment over time. As multiple data center developments come online, the expanded tax base creates alternatives. Roads, utilities, and infrastructure improvements can be funded without increasing taxes on current residents.

Change is uncomfortable. Some people would prefer none at all.

But history shows that communities which opt out of technological shifts tend to stagnate while others move ahead.

These data centers are not just buildings. They are the backbone of artificial intelligence driven services that support everything from healthcare and manufacturing to logistics, education, and national security.

Hosting them positions Wichita Falls as a 21st century contributor to a strong and growing U.S. economy.

The same spirit that made the Internet possible — open participation, shared benefit, and long-term thinking — is now shaping our future.

Recognizing that moment and preparing our workforce, infrastructure, and community to meet it strengthens us while offers opportunities for our citizens.

Jack Browne is a community activist and former technology executive who believes in the power of connection, service, and lifelong learning.

Anyone who has ever coached a team knows how hard it is to get everyone moving in the same direction at the same time.

The lesson you learn early, often the hard way, is that you never win or lose alone. Success is shared. Failure is shared. What matters is whether the team understands that reality before the game starts.

Both of my sons played soccer. My youngest was a goalie, which means every mistake is public. When the other team scored, he took it personally, like a referendum on his own ability.

I kept reminding him — the other team did not beat you — they beat every player on your team.

They advanced the ball past midfield. They created space. They made the final move. The goal might show up in one place on the field, but it was created across the entire system.

That is how teams work. Offense gets the headlines because it scores. Defense keeps you in the game long enough to matter. One without the other collapses.

Watching the NCAA tournament this week brought that lesson back into focus.

A recent Wall Street Journal profile of UConn coach Dan Hurley described a leader obsessed with structure. His teams run deep, detailed playbooks. Each player knows exactly what is expected in every scenario. The repetition is relentless. The goal is not creativity in the moment. The goal is speed and certainty under pressure.

When the plays are internalized, opponents struggle to adapt. They cannot build a defensive plan that holds for forty minutes because the system keeps coming.

Even so, execution still decides outcomes. UConn jumped out early in the title game, then stumbled. Michigan adjusted, held the lead, and finished stronger.

The lesson is not that playbooks guarantee wins. The lesson is that without a playbook, you are relying on improvisation when the stakes are highest.

The same dynamic shows up in competitive industries.

The companies that consistently win are not winging it. They invest in shared language, shared process, and continuous training.

They move faster not because they are smarter in the moment, but because they already agreed on how decisions get made.

I was fortunate to learn this lesson decades ago from my late friend Alan Kelly. In the late 1980s, he taught me how to think about playmaking and the strategy of influence.

He went on to publish his playmaking strategy in a book, The Elements of Influence (with additional writings available from a web search1). Years later, he advised John McCain on strategy during his 2008 presidential run.

Alan believed influence was not a personality trait. It was a system. He defined three phases in any influence effort: assess, condition, and engage. Within those phases, he outlined twenty-four distinct plays that guide how you work with collaborators, compete against alternatives, and help a customer or constituent reach a decision.

Those plays were not abstract theory. They were practical tools. In the assess phase, you test assumptions. In conditioning, you divert attention, frame the problem, or freeze the conversation in a way that aligns people around a shared solution. In the engage phase, you press for action, preempt objections, or provoke momentum.

When the system works, decisions feel natural instead of forced. Everyone understands the game that is being played.

Now bring this down to earth. Think about your business, your nonprofit, or the volunteer work you care about. How do you engage competitors for attention, funding, or support.

Most of us operate with a loose bundle of habits. We do what worked last time. We train new hires from static documents and hope experience fills in the gaps.

Compare that to nonprofit work. You volunteer to lead a fundraiser and suddenly everyone is looking at you for answers.

Often there is no playbook. No record of last year’s sponsors. No list of suppliers. No notes on what worked and what failed.

You are expected to recreate success from memory and goodwill while the clock is already running.

I learned a better approach from another board member years ago. The Junior League of Wichita Falls passes down a set of functional notebooks to the subsequent board.

These contained lessons learned, contacts, timelines, and traps to avoid. That simple practice turned each event into a repeatable system instead of a one-time scramble. Every handoff mattered.

Without that continuity, you end up racing with one or both hands tied behind your back. You burn energy rediscovering what is already known. You miss opportunities to deepen relationships.

And at the end of the event, you forget the most important play of all, closing the loop with gratitude and purpose.

A recent full-page ad from United Supermarkets captured that idea perfectly. Easter greetings. Gratitude. Stores closed for one day so employees can be with their families.

A reminder that when you know who you are and how you operate, even small gestures reinforce trust.

Playbooks are not about control for its own sake. They are about respect for the people who come after you.

Leaving a system behind makes winning together more likely the next time the game is played.

Jack Browne is a community activist and former technology executive who believes in the power of connection, service, and lifelong learning.

There are moments when a single sentence reframes decades of experience.

Late in 2024 I heard John Sharp, then Chancellor of Texas A&M University, say “Everything in the world was produced by God or an engineer.”

That idea has stayed with me because it captures the intersection of belief, discipline, and human effort as well as my life’s work.

Educated as an engineer, I spent my career in semiconductor chips, an industry built on learning curves and relentless improvement.

Every time cumulative shipment volume doubles, costs reliably drop by roughly thirty percent. Two such cycles turn a one-dollar product into fifty cents. With volume increasing across expanding markets, products that once seemed expensive became commonplace.

Volume rewarded learning, and learning rewarded discipline. Over fifty years, the growth of the semiconductor industry rivaled some of the world’s largest enterprises. Chips are everywhere today.

Today artificial intelligence is driving a new surge, with expectations that the market could double again in a couple of years. Growth on that scale does not happen by accident.

The real challenge is creativity, execution, and process. Factories must be filled. Yields must improve. Quality must remain high. Products must arrive on time.

Sustained success depends on renewal and new markets, often requiring that half of revenue comes from products less than three years old. Standing still is not an option.

That same dynamic applies far beyond technology. Businesses, nonprofits, and individuals face the identical requirement for renewal and market expansion.

Without long range thinking and continuous learning, yesterday’s strengths become today’s constraints. Too often mediocrity becomes the default.

Rarely does anyone choose it explicitly. Comfort replaces curiosity. Stability starts to feel like success. Learning slows. Eventually good enough stops being a checkpoint and becomes the destination. Andy Grove, Intel co-founder, captured this threat in his book, “Only the Paranoid Survive.”

Excellence has always been rare because it demands intention. Evolution is unforgiving. Resources are limited. Competition is constant. You either adapt or fall behind. Learn or die is not a slogan. It is a description of how progress actually works.

Decades ago, Tom Peters and Robert Waterman captured this reality with their book, “In Search of Excellence,” emphasizing habits rather than hype. Listen to customers. Trust people closest to the work. Improve systems continuously. These principles were not trendy. They were disciplined.

Clayton Christensen later sharpened the point in his book. “The Innovator’s Dilemma.” Disruption does not arrive through incremental improvement. It appears as step change that is dramatically better, 10 times cheaper, or faster.

When it arrives, markets move quickly, and organizations rooted in legacy thinking struggle to respond. Thomas Friedman expanded the frame even further in “The World Is Flat.” Technology eliminated distance as protection. Geography no longer guarantees relevance. Work, ideas, and services can come from anywhere.

These books define today’s competitive reality for organizations and individuals because ambition is everywhere.

Much of the world is hungry for progress. In places where traditional systems fail, people improvise and adapt. Africa’s mobile banking revolution did not wait for brick buildings or established institutions. It emerged from necessity, cell phones, and creativity. Entire microeconomies formed because people refused to accept the limits placed in front of them enabling commerce via ubiquitous cell phones without local banks.

Momentum builds when progress is allowed. Data centers provide a modern example. During the domestic energy boom in the Permian Basin, natural gas production exceeded pipeline capacity and prices went negative. Waste became opportunity. Servers were placed near gas flaring sites, converting excess energy into computing power. Early designs were rough and inefficient, but engineers kept learning.

Today liquid cooling defines advanced facilities. The concept itself is not new. It existed decades ago. What changed was understanding. Improvements in materials, sensors, and controls transformed an old idea into something far more effective. Old becomes new again through learning — not nostalgia.

The lesson is uncomfortable. Standing still is not neutral. Stability without growth is erosion. Comfort carries a hidden cost.

Excellence requires modeling better behavior for those watching. Our children. Our coworkers. Our communities. It means staying curious when coasting feels easier. It means learning new skills even when old ones still work. Longevity is not the same as relevance.

Excellence does not announce itself. It is built quietly, choice by choice.

Over time, those choices compound into careers, organizations, and communities that remain useful, resilient, and worthy of trust.

Jack Browne is a community activist and former technology executive who believes in the power of connection, service, and lifelong learning.

In 1992, psychologist Richard P. Bentall published a paper in the Journal of Medical Ethics that still feels uncomfortably relevant. His argument was deliberately provocative.

Happiness, he suggested, meets the diagnostic criteria for a psychiatric disorder.

He even proposed a name for it: “major affective disorder, pleasant type.”

At first glance, the idea sounds ridiculous. Happiness is the thing leaders are told to maximize — not pathologize. Entire industries exist to help organizations become happier places to work.

Bentall was not arguing against happiness itself. He was challenging the assumption that happiness is inherently healthy, neutral, or even accurate.

His framing was clinical rather than philosophical.

First, happiness is statistically abnormal. Most people, at any given moment, are not especially happy.

Second, it appears as a discrete cluster of symptoms. Third, those symptoms include cognitive distortions that would raise concerns in almost any other context.

People who report being happy tend to overestimate their control over events. They rate their own abilities unrealistically high. They compare themselves to others in ways that consistently favor their own standing.

The flip side of this is what psychologists call “depressive realism,” the unsettling finding that mildly depressed individuals often assess reality more accurately than their more cheerful counterparts. That point tends to get dismissed as an academic curiosity. It should not be.

Modern work culture treats happiness as an outcome to be engineered.

Leaders are told to drive it. Teams are encouraged to project positivity regardless of circumstances. Organizations invest heavily in perks, programs, and messaging designed to sustain a general sense of cheerfulness.

What Bentall’s paper reminds us of is that sustained happiness is not just rare. It is distorting.

In small doses, optimism is useful. It fuels motivation and helps people act in the absence of complete information. It makes risk tolerable.

But when optimism becomes a default state, it carries costs. Overconfidence reduces sensitivity to risk. Unrealistic self-assessment weakens learning. Biased comparisons slow improvement.

Anyone who has led a team through a missed forecast, a failed launch or a sudden market shift has seen this play out. Excessive positivity delays difficult conversations. It reframes warning signs as temporary noise. It encourages people to explain away evidence rather than grapple with it.

Bentall pushed the argument even further. He noted that happiness can be reliably induced through drugs or electrical brain stimulation, which suggests it reflects abnormal functioning of the central nervous system. That observation strips happiness of its moral status. Happiness is not a virtue. It is a neurological condition.

For leaders, this reframing can be quietly freeing.

You are not failing if your team is not consistently happy.

In complex, fast-moving environments, perpetual happiness should raise questions rather than morale. Healthy teams oscillate. They experience confidence and doubt. They feel tension before breakthroughs. They feel discomfort while learning. Those emotional shifts are signals, not defects.

The new-collar economy depends on adaptability, truth telling, and situational awareness.

None of those are especially pleasant in real time. They require attention, restraint, and the willingness to see constraints and tradeoffs clearly rather than optimistically.

This is where many leadership conversations go wrong. We conflate happiness with engagement, and engagement with effectiveness.

Yet the most effective people are often not the happiest in the moment. They are focused. They are alert. They are realistic about what is possible and what is not.

People can tolerate a great deal of uncertainty when they trust their leaders and believe the work matters.

They struggle much more in environments that insist on positivity while quietly eroding credibility.

Bentall’s paper was partly satirical. Even casual coverage of it points out that it reads as an inversion of diagnostic logic. But like most effective satire, it works because it exposes a real blind spot.

Perhaps the goal of leadership is not to maximize happiness, but to cultivate clarity, meaning, and durable progress.

Happiness may appear as a side effect. It may not. Either way, it should not be the primary signal that things are going well.

The healthiest workplaces are often not the happiest ones. They are the most honest.

You can read Bentall’s original paper here: https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC1376114/pdf/jmedeth00282-0040.pdf

And regardless, those of you who know me know I still choose happiness as a backdrop for living.

Jack Browne is a community activist and former technology executive who believes in the power of connection and service.

Empathy doesn’t arrive fully formed. It is not a switch that flips the moment we decide to be better people, better leaders, or better partners.

It develops the way most meaningful skills do: slowly, unevenly, and often after we have made a few uncomfortable mistakes. Awareness of others is not something we inherit. It is something we practice.

Most of us begin by seeing the world through a single lens: our own.

Early on, we are transactionally focused. What do I gain? What do I risk? What do I expect in return? If the benefit is unclear, we quietly disregard the person, the conversation, or the experience.

Then life intervenes. Sometimes gently. Sometimes with force. A difficult conversation. A lost deal. A relationship that doesn’t unfold the way we imagined. A moment when we realize we were hearing the words but not listening for the meaning.

Those moments are turning points. They shift us from self-focus to other focus, from certainty to curiosity. They introduce the realization that everyone around us carries information we do not yet have.

Greek philosopher Plutarch captured this simply: “Know how to listen and you will profit even from those who talk badly.”

Listening to imperfect communicators teaches us patience, humility, and discernment. It sharpens our ability to understand intent beneath execution.

In professional environments, this kind of listening changes everything. It creates cultures where people feel respected — not managed. Ideas surface earlier. Creativity improves. Innovation becomes a shared responsibility rather than a top-down exercise. Leaders who listen build trust, and trust compounds.

In personal relationships, listening acts as a stabilizer. When we listen to understand rather than to respond, defensiveness drops. Conversations lengthen. Conflict softens. Connection deepens. Emotional safety is not declared; it is demonstrated through attention.

The challenge, of course, is that listening well is harder than ever.

Digital communication strips away tone, expression, and context. Active listening requires effort. It asks us to slow down, notice patterns, and remember what was said without rushing to solve it.

Empathy begins the moment we stop assuming our experience is universal. It grows when we acknowledge that everyone carries a story we cannot see. It matures when we allow another perspective to exist without trying to fix, judge, or compare it to our own.

This is not just emotional intelligence. It is relational intelligence. It affects who we hire, who we follow, who we partner with, and how effectively we solve meaningful problems together.

Choosing the right partner is not about checking boxes. It is about fully seeing another person. Understanding how they navigate the world. What energizes them. What exhausts them. What patterns they repeat under pressure.

Empathy is the bridge that allows two people to meet in the middle without losing themselves. It keeps us from falling in love with potential while ignoring reality.

Awareness helps us choose wisely, whether selecting a partner or emulating a leader. It teaches us to pay attention to behavior, not just words. How do they treat people who offer no advantage? How do they respond to disappointment? Do they listen to understand, or listen to win?

These are not small observations. They are foundational signals.

Empathy does not just help us choose relationships. It helps us sustain them. It softens reactions. It creates space between stimulus and response. It reframes relationships as collaborations rather than competitions.

When empathy is present, conflict becomes a conversation. When it is absent, conversation becomes conflict.

Ironically, empathy grows fastest when we turn inward. When we recognize our blind spots. When we admit we do not always get it right. Humility creates room for connection.

In a world that rewards speed, empathy asks us to pause. In a culture that celebrates independence, awareness asks us to pay attention.

And in an era where technology can imitate almost anything, genuine human understanding remains irreplaceable.

So here is the invitation. Practice seeing people clearly. Practice listening without rehearsing your reply. Practice noticing the moments others overlook.

These practices will not make you perfect. They will, however, make you present. Over time, presence becomes consistency, and consistency becomes the quiet signal others come to trust most.

The right people will not just appreciate that effort. They will meet you there.

Because empathy is not only how we understand others. It is how we recognize those who understand us over the long run.

Jack Browne is a community activist and former technology executive who believes in the power of connection and service.

Photo Caption: Empathy grows when working on problems that help others grow. Southwest Rotary Club of Wichita Falls partners with Road to College to sell flag subscriptions that fund grants for organizations, and Road to College inspires students to lead, serve and attend college. Flag subscriptions are available at https://southwestrotary.com/page/flag-program-sw-rotary-of-wichita-falls

At 71, I’m in my eighth decade of life, and when I look back, I see a long stretch of ups, downs, and the occasional train wreck. I’ve gathered friends across every era of my life, and my family, thankfully, is doing well — better than many.

I tend to my health while navigating the changes that come with age. I focus on what matters: the people I love, the communities I belong to, the unfinished purposes, the joy of learning anew, and the privilege of serving others.

Death and taxes, as the saying goes, don’t negotiate, no matter how prepared or unprepared we are.

I recently lost a dear friend, and though grief has its own rhythm, I also felt relief that his suffering from bone cancer came to an end. His faith carried him with a certainty that brought comfort to those around him, and I choose to believe he stepped into the joy he had long anticipated.

I am appreciative of the health care professionals who stand beside families in those last days, offering dignity, steadiness, and compassion when everything feels fragile. Their work reminds me that even when we can’t control outcomes, we can still influence how someone experiences their final moments, and that matters more than we often admit.

I’ve learned over the years that life rarely slows down just because we wish it would.

Things happen around us constantly — unexpected events, shifting plans, surprises that land without warning. Some people drift with the current, doing what needs to be done to get through the day, but I’ve always believed that each of us can shape our path more than we think.

Choices matter. How we act on those choices matters. The sacrifices we make to keep our focus on what is important, rather than what simply feels urgent, become the defining lines of our days.

I’ve been tutoring a master of business administration student this semester in organizational behavior, and the conversations remind me how much I’ve seen, tried, failed at, and figured out along the way. Having managed large teams, I understand how psychology, structure, intention, and humility come together to shape meaningful leadership.

We’ve been exploring decision making, and every session takes me back to moments when I had to choose quickly, cautiously, or creatively. Maslow once said that if all you have is a hammer, every problem looks like a nail, and I’ve watched that play out more times than I can count.

Emotions flare, first impressions mislead, and people cling to familiar tools even when the situation demands something different. Sometimes the sheer number of possible solutions overwhelms even the most capable minds, and the discomfort of uncertainty pushes people into premature decisions.

Others double down on failing strategies because they can’t let go of sunk costs.

Today’s workforce is rich with diverse skills, and I’ve seen the magic that happens when one group generates solutions while another evaluates them. It’s a simple shift that prevents tunnel vision and opens the door to genuinely better options.

When solving problems our minds can trap us into seeing only what we expect. Dunker’s classic candle test is a perfect example, well explained in Dan Pink, the “Candle Problem” at

Given a candle, matches and box of tacks, your problem is to stick the candle to the wall. Most people don’t realize the box holding the tacks is part of the solution.

As in life, we get so locked into an assumed purpose that we miss the possibility sitting right in our hands. We hurry to prove competence. Quick solutions are often praised more than thoughtful ones, even when they cost us more in the long run.

NASA’s Lunar Trailblazer mission to find and map water on the Moon is a painful reminder. Brilliant people, working under pressure, missed a flaw in the solar panel orientation software, and the spacecraft was lost within a day. One small oversight became a total mission failure as the panels pointed away from the sun.

Emotions come to mind as my arthritis acts up or when feeling the warmth of another sunrise with both reminding me, I’m still alive and have choices today.

Every day is another amazing chance to look closer, pause longer, and consider the day’s problems as opportunities I might have missed before.

Jack Browne is a community activist and former technology executive who believes in the power of connection and service.

Peter Drucker’s famous line — “Culture eats strategy for breakfast” — has been repeated so often we sometimes forget the weight behind it. But Drucker didn’t arrive at that insight casually.

He spent a lifetime observing how people work, what motivates them, and why some organizations thrive while others stall out even with the best plans in hand.

Born in Austria in 1909, shaped by the turbulence of pre‑war Europe, influenced by economic thinkers like John Maynard Keynes, and eventually landing as a teacher and consultant in the United States, Drucker became known and recognized — accurately — as the man who invented modern management before his death in 2005.

His work resonated deeply with Japanese manufacturers who, in the middle of the twentieth century, were hungry to improve how they used their resources, how they developed people, and how they built products with long‑term value.

Those companies listened carefully to Drucker’s emphasis on effectiveness over efficiency, on strengths over weaknesses, and on responsibility to customers and communities. As Japan’s export strength grew through the 1970s and 1980s, American leaders began taking Drucker’s ideas seriously, too.

Some of his best lines still guide us today.

· “Management is doing things right; leadership is doing the right things.”

· “If you want something new, you have to stop doing something old.”

· “What gets measured gets improved.”

· And the one that lands the hardest in turbulent times: “Managers cannot assume that tomorrow will be an extension of today.”

Drucker saw clearly that organizations get into trouble when they optimize processes that never should have existed in the first place, or when they keep trying to solve problems instead of identifying opportunities.

He understood that people — not spreadsheets — determine outcomes. And he predicted the rise of the “knowledge worker,” someone whose primary job is to learn continuously. In his view, standing still meant falling behind.

You can see his ideas play out in communities trying hard to grow.

Many cities reinvent their strategies every election cycle — new plans, new slogans, new committees. But culture doesn’t shift just because the strategy-of-the-year changes.

If the underlying mindset remains “that’s not how we do it here,” even the most exciting plans will fail to take root. New leaders arrive full of energy and leave exhausted when the status quo pushes back harder than the strategy can pull forward.

The ideas weren’t bad. The culture simply won.

You see the same pattern in families. Parenting has changed dramatically in the last few decades.

Many parents today feel pressure to be their child’s friend, to avoid conflict, or to keep life easy and entertaining.

Yet children who miss school several days a week, coast academically, and approach learning primarily as a chance to socialize are entering a world shaped by artificial intelligence, rapid job change, and continual self‑education.

If they haven’t been challenged to build discipline, curiosity, and resilience, how will they adapt?

Culture shows up in small habits: whether families read together, whether adults model learning, whether children see mistakes as something to hide or something to grow from.

Even handwriting — something as simple and human as putting pen to paper — has become rare enough that some parents now use cursive as a secret code their children can’t interpret.

What happens a generation from now when families inherit boxes of handwritten letters and journals but need AI just to decode them?

Nonprofits wrestle with these same cultural dynamics.

A board might craft a brilliant strategic plan filled with metrics, timelines, and bold goals. But if the culture inside the organization or with their volunteers resists accountability, fears transparency, or avoids difficult conversations, that plan will gather dust.

A nonprofit can raise money for new programs, but if staff burnout is normalized or innovation is discouraged, the organization will struggle to deliver impact.

Many nonprofits eventually discover that the real work isn’t rewriting the mission statement — it’s rewriting the habits, expectations, and unspoken rules that shape how people show up every day. And often, when the culture shifts even slightly toward clarity, trust, and shared ownership, momentum suddenly appears.

Parenting offers a helpful parallel here: in both settings, people rise or fall to the expectations around them.

A household with consistent routines, a sense of purpose, and adults who model the behavior they want to see will almost always outperform a household that relies on last‑minute fixes and shifting rules.

Likewise, organizations that cultivate curiosity, responsibility, and candor tend to outperform those that chase every new idea without addressing how people actually behave.

At the core, Drucker’s lessons remind us that our time is finite and precious. We don’t get to run life twice.

So, the question becomes: are we spending our time doing things right — or doing the right things? Are we choosing effectiveness, or just motion? Are we building cultures that help people grow, or ones that quietly hold them in place?

I choose to be open, to share ideas, to learn alongside others, and to recognize that success has many parents — but failure often belongs to only a few.

That’s why culture matters. It’s the soil everything grows from. Strategy is important. But culture determines whether that strategy ever becomes real.

Jack Browne is a community activist and former technology executive who believes in the power of connection and service.

Photo Caption: Renovation continues for Memorial Auditorium, originally constructed in 1927. The City’s goal is to move into the newly remodeled space by late this spring with the first City Council meeting scheduled there in June. Utility operations moved already as residents can pay water bills at 1300 7^th St. Photo Jack Browne Times Record News