The Aging Adventurer Mission:

Mission Statement:

To provide a central hub of wisdom, encouragement, and inspiration for men nearing—or already in—their retirement years. My goal is to help you design and live your most fulfilling next chapter by focusing on the Three P’s: Planning, Preparation, and Prevention.

I was born on December 12, 1964, in Richland, Washington. My Grandpa Bud was a fly fisherman, a traditional archery deer hunter, and a wingshooter. My father, along with various uncles and cousins, were all hunters and fishermen as well.

When I was in the fourth grade, we moved to an asparagus farm where I spent countless hours exploring the fields, gravel pits, and wild blackberry patches near our home. That’s where I hunted pheasants and quail. I shot ducks along the irrigation ditches and the banks of the Columbia River.

Looking back now, I realize how fortunate I was. I could step off the school bus, grab my shell vest and shotgun, call for Fred—my half-English Setter, half-Australian Shepherd bird dog—and hunt until dark. More often than not, I came home with game in the pockets of my vest.

When I finally learned to drive my old 1947 Willys Jeep, the boundaries of my world expanded—and so did the adventures. I fished and duck hunted with my friend Brett; it was all we could think about and talk about. I caught my first trout on a fly at age seven, shot my first waterfowl and upland birds at fourteen, and took a three-point mule deer buck at sixteen.

I don’t remember having many worries back then—just making enough money for gas and shells. It was quite a time in my life, and the memories of those days still live strong in me today, at age sixty.

Building a Life in Idaho

In 1998, our family moved to Coeur d’Alene, Idaho — prime country for an outdoorsman. It felt like coming home to the kind of life I’d always imagined. We bowhunted elk in the Idaho Panhandle, the Washington Cascades, Oregon, and even New Mexico. I spent countless hours fly-fishing famous trout waters and hunting ducks on rivers and lakes across the region.

Golf had been quietly playing in the background since 1984, but, like most of my interests, it eventually became an obsession. When my sons were old enough to play, it turned into something more — a shared experience that still binds us today. The golf courses of northern Idaho were the perfect places for us to grow in the game and in life together.

Those ten years in Idaho were a magical time — a fresh start in a corner of the world that would leave a deep, lasting mark on all of us.

There are countless other chapters and subchapters of adventures that have taken place over a lifetime spent afield. I’ll do my best to capture the best of those memories in future posts. For now, let’s jump forward.

Retirement & The Preserve

In 2009, my wife, our oldest son and his wife, and our only grandchild moved from North Idaho to the Kansas City area to pursue a career opportunity. Our younger son and his wife remained in North Idaho.

Twelve years later, I retired at the age of 55. With my career behind me, my wife and I faced a difficult decision about our future. Part of our family—and three grandchildren—were now in Kansas, while our younger son and his wife, whom we had seen only occasionally over the past decade, were still in Idaho.

The choice wasn’t easy. I’ve always loved the outdoors, and I missed the mountains, the clear running waters, and that distinct satisfaction that comes from living close to the wild places you love.

It was fair to say that while my heart was in Kansas, I had left my soul in Idaho. The pull of the mountains had me firmly in its grip.

Losing (and Finding) Purpose

The first three years of being free—retired from the daily grind of work—were both exciting and difficult. We purchased forty acres of whitetail hunting land with a pond, a creek, and a small stretch of cultivated crop ground. We had decided that Kansas would be our retirement headquarters, and the dream of building The Preserve was set in motion.

It took three and a half years from start to finish to build our home, shop, and barn. I had traded one kind of stress for another, but I believed that once the house was complete, it would be smooth sailing. I couldn’t have known what was coming.

The pandemic brought a wave of uncertainty. The world was changing, and all I wanted was to get on with being retired. Yet even with no real obligations beyond myself and my family, I found myself struggling.

I had spent my entire adult life working toward this point, and as the projects wound down, I felt lost—and deeply unhappy. From the outside, anyone looking in would probably wonder, What’s your problem? You have it all. And the truth is, I did—and still do.

But something was missing. Through my own reading and searching for someone—some wise old sage—who had been through what I was feeling, I discovered that more than sixty percent of men experience some level of depression in the early years of retirement.

I couldn’t quite put my finger on why I felt the way I did, but I knew it had something to do with purpose—how to use my gifts and talents—and with having a clear path forward. I needed something to look forward to.

A New Mission

In recent years, we’ve been fortunate to divide our time—spending part of the year back in Idaho, reconnecting with the place and people we love, and the rest at The Preserve, enjoying the treasures Kansas has to offer.

Now that the fog has lifted and I’ve had time for deep reflection, I feel inspired to help others through this complex and often confusing transition into retirement.

Though we are all different in many ways, there are certain truths we share. When I was searching for guidance, I found it difficult to discover resources that were authentic, practical, and genuinely insightful.

That searching has brought me here. My purpose now is to help men like me find their way—to create a fulfilling, adventurous, and meaningful final act of life.

Let the adventure begin.

JM