“Since when is life about happiness? It should be about impact.”
That line from Daniel Ek, the founder of Spotify, hit me square between the eyes when I heard it on a podcast recently. Happiness is the thing most of us chase. I did. We all want it, and we spend a lifetime trying to define it—success, money, family, travel, security, or just peace of mind. But Ek’s point kept turning over in my head: maybe the better target isn’t happiness at all. Could the better target be impact?
Looking back, the first 20 years of my life weren’t about either one. They were about fun. Or at least what I thought was fun. That path didn’t end well. At 21, I entered recovery for alcohol and drug addiction, and life turned in a different direction. The fun had been over a long time by that time, anyway. Sobriety gave me a chance, but it didn’t instantly give me purpose. For the next couple of decades, I chased financial success—spending more than I had, mistaking consumption for contribution. I came from a family with very little money, but I grew up surrounded by people who had plenty. That mix was rocket fuel for selfish consumerism in the years to come. If I’m honest, my 20s and 30s were self-centered years. From 40 to 50, things shifted. Kids were born. I prioritized my family, at the expense of my businesses. No regrets there. Raising kids isn’t a footnote—it’s the work. When I turned 50, my wife and I took our 10-year-old son and 14-year-old daughter on a six-month trip across Europe. That experience changed us all, and for me, it deepened my spiritual foundation. Still, I’d have to admit I was either decent at family or decent at business—never both at the same time. Some people seem to juggle that balance with ease. I wasn’t one of them. By the time both of my kids finished college and stepped into their own career paths a few years ago, something shifted again. My responsibility as a parent didn’t vanish, but the day-to-day weight eased. That’s when I went through a sort of professional renaissance. I found myself more passionate about my work than ever—restaurants, travel, writing. I’ve been in the restaurant business since I was 19, but I don’t think I’ve ever given it as much energy, focus, and heart as I do today (and I was working 90-hour weeks in the early days). Somewhere in those years between being a young dad and watching my kids leave the nest, impact entered the conversation. Not as a concept I chased, but almost by accident. Extra Table, the nonprofit I founded, started with one phone call. I picked up, said yes, and what came from that has grown far beyond me—an organization that sends hundreds of thousands of pounds of food to over 60 agencies across Mississippi every month, at no cost to those agencies. I can’t claim credit. That was a God thing. I was just the vessel. But it opened my eyes to something bigger: giving is better than receiving- a new concept to my thinking at the time. For the first 45 years of my life, I was mostly focused on receiving. Since then, I’ve learned the joy in giving. Impact, it turns out, can be addictive. With Extra Table running strong, I co-founded The Hattiesburg Hundred to support local law enforcement families in crisis. A little later, I helped get the Midtown Merchants Association off the ground to work on murals, parks, and neighborhood projects, including a dog park now in the works. And with my friend Anthony Thaxton, I co-founded the Institute for Southern Storytelling at Mississippi College, where we try to share Mississippi’s story with the wider world. None of these things happened because of me alone—they’ve all taken groups of people willing to pitch in and push forward. None of it was mapped out in advance. It organically unfolded because I finally stepped outside myself. But let me be clear—I’ve had selfish motives over the years, too. Ultimately, respect matters to me. I want the respect of my wife and kids more than anything. I want them to see my life as more than just a series of restaurants, travel, books, and columns. I want them to see it as impact. It’s only lately that I’ve started to recognize that word for what it is. Impact isn’t something I set out to chase. I didn’t even have a name for it until now. But looking back, that’s what the work has really been about— doing what I can to make life a little better for the people around me. It’s hard to even write this. Talking about impact risks sounding boastful, and that’s the last thing I want. The truth is, I don’t have it all figured out. It just took me longer than it should have to see what really matters, and if putting these words down helps someone else see it sooner than I did, then it’s worth saying. There’s a quote from Richard Branson that sticks with me: “Every business, at its heart, is simply trying to make people’s lives better.” A restaurant isn’t just about food. It’s an experience. A trip isn’t just about sightseeing. It’s memories. At our best, what we do is create moments that make life better for other people. That’s impact, too. For most of my life, I took the easy road instead of the better road. Society probably labeled me a “success” even when I wasn’t one. I was never a good student, but I’ve become a decent producer. I’ve learned it’s not about consuming. It’s about producing. It’s about impact. These days, I spend close to four months a year working overseas. My job takes me there, but so does curiosity. When I’m home, I want to make the most of my time—with family, with my team. I’ve narrowed my focus to a few essentials: my faith, who I spend time with (family and friends), what I eat, how I move (exercise), and how well I sleep. Add faith, food, career and fun to that list, and that’s where I need to be. So, happiness or impact? For me, impact comes first, and happiness follows. Happiness rooted in self-seeking and consumption is shallow—I know, because I spent decades in that mindset. But happiness that grows out of making a difference has a way of staying put. That’s a lesson I wish I’d learned sooner. If there’s anything I hope my kids take from my life, it’s this: don’t spend your days chasing happiness. Chase impact. Try to make life a little better for the people around you—through your work, your family, your community. The happiness will come, but it will come as a byproduct of something bigger than yourself. Looking back, the things that matter most aren’t what I gained for myself, but the moments I was able to make even a small impact in someone else’s life. I’m grateful to have learned that, better late than never. At least in my own story, happiness follows impact. Onward.
