05/24/2026
WHAT THIS WEEK TAUGHT ME
What this week taught me is the Orioles are a damn mess right now.
Lost.
Flat.
No spark.
No fundamentals.
Defense that would’ve gotten you benched in Little League.
And it’s boring as hell — which is the worst sin in baseball.
What this week taught me is that Washington, D.C. can stand there with a straight face and tell us everything is fine… while gas is $4.51 and rates are 6.75%.
You can’t lie to people who live in the real world.
You can’t “everything’s great” your way out of a grocery bill.
And in my world, it’s simple:
where housing goes, everything else follows.
People feel the truth long before politicians admit it.
What this week taught me is that Baltimore leadership wants to dump a billion dollars into a convention center — like that’s the magic trick — while teen wilding, dirt‑bike chaos, boarded‑up storefronts, and hotel exits sit there like nobody notices.
I walk through this city every day.
I see the real Baltimore — the one behind the speeches.
The one behind the ribbon cuttings.
The one where families are trying to hold the line with everything they’ve got.
We keep hearing about safety.
We just don’t feel it.
What this week taught me is that Maryland weather is still drunk — 95 one day, 59 and rain the next — and Memorial Day weekend with a house full of family and no beach is a spiritual endurance test.
And what this week REALLY taught me is that I’m still human as hell.
I broke my intermittent fasting like a clown — smashed a sausage‑egg McMuffin because I couldn’t resist, then inhaled yogurt with toppings after 9 PM like I’d blacked out in front of the fridge.
And yeah… I felt like a turd afterward.
Not because of the food — but because discipline is hard, and sometimes the smallest slip hits harder than the big ones.
It’s humbling.
It’s annoying.
It’s real.
But this week also taught me something better.
It taught me the joy of celebrating my grandson’s first birthday — that deep brown‑eyed stare that hits me right in the soul and reminds me what actually matters.
It taught me that no matter how hard I try to control everything, I control nothing.
It taught me that my job is simple:
be a light, make a difference, give hope.
And it reminded me of this:
Homes matter because the people inside them matter.
Neighborhoods matter because the families inside them matter.
This city matters because the souls inside it matter.
That’s why I fight for it.
That’s why I care.
That’s why I stay.
At the end of the day, nothing matters but my faith and my family.
Give me those, and I’m good.
I covet love.
I’m grateful for grace.
And I’m still here — imperfect, hungry, stubborn, blessed — trying to leave Baltimore a little better than I found it.
