Coming Alongside

The Navy has a term called “coming alongside.” It means bringing one vessel alongside another so people, supplies, mail, fuel, or information can be exchanged safely.

What many people don’t realize is that coming alongside is never done casually. It requires intention. Both vessels must carefully match speed and course. Trust matters. Communication matters. The goal is simple: create a brief opportunity to exchange something valuable before each ship continues on its own journey. I’ve often thought of Project Candor in much the same way.

Every guest who joins me is navigating waters I have never traveled. They have weathered different storms, visited different ports, celebrated different victories, and faced different challenges.

For an hour or so, our paths cross. We come alongside one another. We exchange stories, lessons, wisdom, laughter, and sometimes a few hard-earned truths. Then we continue our separate voyages carrying something we didn’t have before the conversation began.

My role is simply to provide a place where that exchange can happen.

Life Has a Way of Rewriting Plans

If there is one theme that seems to appear again and again on Project Candor, it is this: very few people end up where they originally expected to be.

As children, many of us imagine a straight line between where we are and where we hope to go. We choose a destination, chart a course, and assume that determination and hard work will get us there.

Then life happens.

• A door opens that we never expected.
• A door closes that we desperately wanted to walk through.
• An opportunity appears.
• A diagnosis arrives.
• A relationship begins.
• A relationship ends.
• A move, a loss, a mentor, a chance encounter, a phone call, or a single decision changes the direction of the voyage.

Sometimes the change happens in a moment. More often, it happens so gradually that we don’t recognize it until years later. Looking back, however, we can often see connections that were invisible while we were living them.

That’s one of the reasons I love hearing people’s stories.

The Stories I Didn’t Expect

One of the greatest joys of hosting Project Candor is that I never know where a conversation will lead.

I’ve spoken with a man who became a quadriplegic and built a remarkable life anyway. I’ve met a woman who sang her way through cancer. I’ve talked with a scholar whose pursuit of a doctorate unexpectedly led him into the world of espionage training. I’ve met people who climbed Mount Everest, walked the Appalachian Trail, became championship fishermen, owned the rights to the Rosa Parks story, and even made one of life’s biggest decisions with a spreadsheet.

Those stories are fascinating on the surface. They’re certainly great conversation starters.

However, the accomplishments themselves are rarely the most interesting part.

• What fascinates me is everything underneath.
• What kept someone moving forward when the path disappeared?
• What gave them courage when they were afraid?
• What did they learn about themselves that they couldn’t have learned any other way?
• How did their understanding of success change over time?
• What would they tell the younger version of themselves standing at the beginning of the journey?

Those are the stories that stay in my heart and mind long after the microphones are turned off.

More Laughter Than Tears

People often assume that meaningful stories must be heavy stories. Sometimes they are. Yet many of my favorite moments have involved laughter. I’ve heard stories about unexpected adventures, family traditions, travel mishaps, chance encounters, lifelong dreams, and moments that still make people smile decades later. Those stories matter too.

A life is not measured only by its hardships. It is also measured by friendships, memories, experiences, acts of kindness, moments of courage, and the people who share the journey with us.

Certainly, challenges shape us. However, joy shapes us as well. The conversations around the Project Candor table often include both.

Why I Keep Asking Questions

People sometimes ask what kind of guests I am looking for. The truth is, I’m not looking for a particular type of person. I’m looking for stories. More specifically, I’m looking for people who are willing to reflect honestly on the experiences that shaped them. The title on a business card isn’t what interests me. The turning points do. The detours do. The lessons do. The moments when life refused to follow the original map do.

Every guest brings a perspective I don’t have and wisdom I haven’t earned. As a result, every conversation teaches me something new. I get to collect souvenirs from places I’ve never been.

Around the Project Candor Table

For an hour or so, we gather around the table and explore a journey together. Then we share that story with listeners who may discover a piece of their own life reflected in someone else’s experience. Perhaps they find encouragement. Perhaps they find perspective. Perhaps they simply realize they are not the only person whose plans have been rewritten along the way.

Life has a way of changing our trajectory. The route changes. The destination evolves. The voyage surprises us.

Yet if Project Candor has taught me anything, it is that some of the most meaningful chapters of our lives are often the ones we never planned to write.

That’s Project Candor.

Ordinary People. Unexpected Stories.