YOU PROBABLY WOULDN'T GUESS MY STORY.
If you only knew me through my work,
you'd probably assume you already knew
my story.
You'd see a marketing strategist.
A business owner.
Someone who talks about clarity,
systems, and growth.
Those things are true,
but they're the result—
not the beginning.
This page isn't here to convince you
I'm qualified.
The rest of my website can do that.
This page exists for a different reason:
if we're going to build something
together,
I think it's fair that you know the
person you'll be building with.
I WAS RAISED BY
CONTRADICTIONS.
I grew up in a world where love and chaos
existed at the same table.
There were difficult choices,
broken people, and consequences
that came early.
I learned to pay attention because not paying
attention had a cost.
But that wasn't the whole story.
The same childhood that exposed me to
hardship also surrounded me with family,
loyalty, laughter, food, and people who
loved me deeply.
My family taught me respect and duty
long before anyone taught me business.
Looking back, I don't think either world
explains who I became.
It was the tension between them
that did.
RESPONSIBILITY
CAME BEFORE
IDENTITY.
Long before I knew what career I wanted,
responsibility had already found me.
As a teenager I stepped into situations
that simply needed someone to
carry weight.
At the time it never felt heroic.
It felt normal.
Years later a close friend told me
he admired the way I handled
those years.
My answer surprised even me:
I never thought of it that way.
I was simply doing what needed
to be done.
That mindset has stayed with me
ever since.
OWNERSHIP
STARTED EARLY.
Long before Under The Tree existed,
ownership was already shaping the
way I saw the world.
Baseball was my first experience
with it.
I wasn’t just another kid on a team.
I was a pitcher, a leader, and someone
people counted on.
I trained relentlessly, competed at a
high level, and learned what it meant
to carry responsibility when the
outcome depended on you.
Everyone around me believed
baseball would be my future.
So did I.
Around that same time,
I built my first real business.
It was a cannabis business during a
very different era.
By the time I graduated high school,
I was supporting myself, buying my
own cars, managing real money, and
learning lessons about markets,
customers, logistics, and
responsibility that no classroom
could have taught me.
For a young man,
it felt like freedom.
It also carried more risk than I fully
understood at the time.
Ownership, however, isn’t only
measured by success.
It’s measured by what happens
when things don’t go your way.
Eventually I went to jail for that
business.
Years later I watched the same
industry become legal.
That experience reinforced
something I’ve carried with me
ever since:
If you’re going to claim ownership
when things go well, you have to
accept it when they don’t.
Success and consequences belong
to the same person.
PLANS CHANGE.
PRINCIPLES DON'T.
By my early twenties, both of the futures
I thought I understood had changed.
Baseball was no longer an option
after my injury.
Cannabis, despite its success, was
no longer something I wanted to
build my life around.
One path had been taken away.
The other had become too uncertain
to trust as a long-term future.
For a while, school was the backup plan.
Business was still the plan.
But as I continued my education,
something slowly shifted.
What began as a practical decision
became a new direction.
I committed to earning a degree
in physics while continuing to work,
survive, and build a future
for myself.
Looking back, I didn’t abandon the
principles that had gotten me this far—
I carried them into a different arena.
The discipline that baseball demanded.
The ownership that business required.
The resilience that adversity
taught me.
Those didn’t disappear when
my plans changed.
They became the foundation
for everything that came next.
UNDERSTANDING
COMES FIRST.
The biggest thing I took from my
education wasn’t a degree.
It was a perspective I could apply
to anything I focused on.
Physics taught me to think in
relationships and energy.
Engineering taught me to test
assumptions and build systems.
Years of technical work taught me
how to separate signal from noise.
I stopped looking for quick answers
and started looking for the information
that actually changes a decision.
Two supervisors noticed that
long before I did.
One admitted he was initially concerned
because I didn’t jump into the work
as quickly as everyone else.
I spent more time observing,
asking questions, and understanding
the system first.
Later, he told me that once I understood
it, I no longer needed much direction.
My process had looked slower from
the outside, but it produced
independence.
Another manager described me as
an “untapped resource.”
We weren’t even discussing work.
He had simply realized there was
far more beneath the surface than
he’d first assumed.
Those experiences helped me
understand something about myself.
I need to interrogate a problem
until I understand it well enough
to make a decision I can
stand behind.
That process has taught me that
the quality of a decision is usually
limited by the quality of your
understanding.
That’s still how I work today.
Whether I’m analyzing advertising
campaigns, building systems,
or helping a founder make a difficult
business decision,
I’m looking for the relationships
other people haven’t connected yet.
One time a client believed one of
her advertising campaigns was
underperforming.
Once we examined the data together,
the picture changed completely.
The campaign was already profitable—
we just needed to connect the
right metrics to see it.
That changed the conversation from
“Should we stop spending?” to
“Where should we invest more?”
That’s what understanding produces.
Not more information.
Confidence in decisions
and actions.
UNDER THE TREE
WASN'T INVENTED.
After engineering, sales, technical work,
and years of learning, something
finally became obvious.
I wasn’t trying to invent a business.
I was trying to build one that reflected
the person I’d already spent decades
becoming.
Every chapter of my life had taught
me something different—
Family taught me responsibility.
Entrepreneurship taught me ownership.
Physics & Engineering taught me perspective and precision .
Business taught me how to help people
make better decisions.
Under The Tree became the place
where those lessons could finally
exist together.
It wasn’t a reinvention.
It was an integration.
WHAT IT'S LIKE
TO BUILD WITH ME.
Most people think they’re hiring me
for marketing.
Over time, they realize they’re really
hiring me to help them make
better decisions.
One client had to tell me her advertising
budget had been cut.
What started as a conversation
about campaigns quickly became
a conversation about pressure,
priorities, and how to move forward.
Before we finished, she told me
it simply felt good to have someone
to think through those decisions with.
At the end of the day,
I’m simply trying to help
in a meaningful way.
Everything else—the marketing,
the strategy, the systems,
the business—is just the vehicle.
I do what I say I’m going to do.
I tell the truth,
even when it’s uncomfortable.
I reduce friction where I can,
create clarity where I can’t,
and try to make difficult work
easier to carry.
IF WE
WORK
TOGETHER.
Everything you've read here explains
why I built Under The Tree
the way I did.
Not around trends.
Not around an agency model.
Around the way I naturally think,
work, and build relationships.
If you're looking for someone
who values honesty,
responsibility,
thoughtful collaboration,
and long-term trust
as much as results,
then I think we'll probably
work well together.