Eight years ago, my youngest daughter, who’s now 30 years old, asked me to write a book for her. It was in the middle of winter and dusk had just turned to darkness as I landed at the Dayton, Ohio, international airport. Hours before, I was at our home in New Hampshire. Two weeks prior to this, she and I had driven from home to Cincinnati, Ohio, so she could find a job and be close to her best friend.
It was now time to drive back across the often snowy and icy tundra of I-90. After asking me how my flight was, the next words that flowed from her lips were, “Dad, I need you to write a book for me. I want it to be filled with all you know about business, real estate, investing, finance, relationships, home improvement, politics, etc. I don’t want to slog through life making the same mistakes you made and the book will be a shortcut to success and happiness. Oh, and I also want it filled with our family history and all of the stories about you growing up that you shared many nights at the dinner table when I was growing up.”…