This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Samantha Miller, the CEO and cofounder of Cadence OTC. It has been edited for length and clarity.
As the CEO and cofounder of a company that wants to improve access to contraception, I’m more comfortable talking about sex than most people — including my kids and husband.
Today, my son is 21, and my daughters are 25 and 27, but I started talking about sex with them early.
That helped me convey my messages about the importance of contraception and the idea that sexual wellness is part of overall health. But it didn’t make things less awkward. Talking with my son was particularly tricky. He was even more uncomfortable than my daughters. Despite my openness, he never brought the topic up with me.
I decided I wasn’t going to force him to talk about sex, but I was going to ask him to listen. There were some things that I needed to share with him, including the importance of emergency contraception and the ways that women’s sexual pleasure was different from his own.
My son thought it was funny that I gave him emergency contraceptives
I wanted to emphasize to my son that contraception isn’t only a woman’s responsibility. We discussed the importance of condoms, but also that condoms fail 10% to 15% of the time. In those cases, I told him, it made sense for him to have emergency contraception on hand.
The author (second from left) and her family are comfortable talking about sex.
Courtesy of Samantha Miller
When he went off to college two years ago, I made sure to send him with emergency contraception, just in case. The product will last a few years, so you only have to buy it once. If there’s ever a question about whether the sex was safe — like not being able to find the condom after intercourse — I wanted him to have the pill available.
He thought it was a bit funny and got a kick out of telling his friends that he had the emergency contraception. I told him that being responsible in this way is a great way to impress the ladies.
Last year, one of his friends unintentionally got a woman pregnant and was thrust into fatherhood before he planned. Seeing what his friend has gone through has been a crash course in the importance of taking accountability for contraception.
I taught my son to think about his partner’s pleasure
The topic that made my son cringe the most was discussing female pleasure. The topic didn’t bother me at all; I had a lot of wisdom to share. But I kept the conversation pretty high-level because he was uncomfortable.
Still, I wanted to plant the seed that female pleasure is different from what my son experiences as a male. It’s more complex, requires more explanation, and doesn’t happen reliably with intercourse the way male pleasure does.
I didn’t need to say much; we didn’t talk about anatomy. But I emphasized that female pleasure is important, and something my son needs to check in with his partners about.
I wish the adults in my life had talked more candidly about sex
I never talked with the adults in my life about sex. Honestly, things would have gone better for me if I had. Talking with older adults can help young people develop a maturity around sex, and I wish I’d had that guidance when I was younger.
Having a safe, pleasurable sex life is part of overall health. The more we can talk about that, the more empowered we’ll feel.
Although my kids are adults now, I still talk with all of them about sex. While it isn’t always the most comfortable, I’m glad we can have those conversations.
I love showing my kids the world and learning alongside them. It’s one of my greatest joys as a parent, and the ability to do so is a privilege I don’t take for granted. So far, I’ve taken my children to 26 countries across six continents.
Over time, traveling with my kids has changed the way I parent, whether we’re at home or thousands of miles away. Here are six ways traveling has influenced the way I parent.
I realize how little my kids actually need
I used to be obsessed with getting my children the right type of toys to promote learning and development. I wondered if they had enough layers for playing in the snow and the best shoes for climbing at the playground. Through traveling, I saw firsthand how little children really need to be happy and thrive.
In Marrakesh, my son played soccer in the winding streets of the ancient medina with kids wearing worn, off-brand Crocs. They barely stayed on their feet, but the game went on, full of laughter. In India, I saw children in threadbare clothing happily playing with no special toys required.
I realized that, despite my incredible fortune to be able to get my children nearly whatever I wanted, they would be fine with the basics. I now know that my entire family is better off free from the pressures of always chasing more things and wanting more.
I’m not as hung up on what my children eat
Travel often involves unexpected cultural differences that require my family to adapt on the fly — especially when it comes to food. For breakfast in South Korea, we found ourselves with bowls of soup rather than cereal. In Egypt, we ate spaghetti mixed with lentils, rice, and chickpeas instead of meatballs. In Japan, our pizza came topped with honey.
Traveling has taught me that many of the food rules I once accepted as gospel are really arbitrary cultural practices. I no longer care if my children want grilled cheese for breakfast. If they want to experiment in the kitchen and mix items that don’t seem to go together, like putting jelly on samosas, I let them try it. I still care about nutrition, but I’m a lot less hung up on what they eat and when.
The author says that traveling internationally with her children helped her realize that her kids need fewer things to be content.
Courtesy of Jamie Davis Smith.
I’m more flexible with my children
I used to be hung up on strict bedtimes and mealtimes. While traveling, I witnessed parents around the world following very different rules than I did.
In Europe, I saw children out to dinner at 10:00 at night with even later bedtimes. These children were happy and thriving. I realized that the sky wouldn’t fall if I allowed my kids to stay up past their bedtime or if we didn’t eat lunch exactly at noon. Letting go of strict schedules has been incredibly freeing.
More on traveling with kids
I handle stress better
When it comes to travel, changes in plans are par for the course. Trains get canceled. Attractions may be sold out. Kids still get sick, even far from home. Traveling with my children has forced me to keep a level head as I navigate these challenges.
At home, I put these lessons into practice. If I have to deal with a last-minute change in plans because my son gets the flu or a playdate is called off, it’s no longer a big deal. When I am on the verge of panic, I remember the time I discovered the train I had planned on taking out of Venice wasn’t running. It could have been a catastrophe, but with some creative thinking, I got us to our next destination on time.
Once, I was told (incorrectly) that my son needed emergency surgery in Jamaica. I had to make sure he was well cared for in a country with a vastly different medical system than the one I am used to. He recovered in a couple of days with minimal intervention. Having the experience of navigating complex issues in countries where I don’t speak the language and must deal with cultural and administrative differences makes everyday problems easier to handle.
The author says that she’s learned to let traditional schedules go and embrace being in the moment.
Courtesy of Jamie Davis Smith.
I make more time for fun with my children
My role as a parent is often purely managerial. I drive my children to various activities and pick them up from school. I make their doctor’s appointments and feed them dinner.
When we travel, many of these responsibilities vanish. My children and I spend more time having fun and enjoying each other’s company. We play endless rounds of Uno and laugh at inside jokes. It can be challenging to find time to create joy amid the relentless pressures of everyday life. However, traveling has shown me that doing so is essential to building a strong, lasting relationship with them. It also helps provide moments of respite from the daily grind.
I look for new experiences closer to home
If it were up to me, I would travel full-time. However, I need to work, and my children need to attend school, so that’s not feasible. Instead, I look for more interesting experiences closer to home. I’ve learned that it’s possible to experience something new and joyful just about anywhere.
Even when I can’t travel, I try to act like a tourist in my hometown. I seek out new hikes, museum exhibits, plays, and events every month. This keeps life interesting, even when work and school schedules keep us closer to home.
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Raising kids across 3 countries — the US, Australia, Switzerland — changed how I approach parenting.
It opened my eyes to how different cultures empower children to reach their full potential.
My kids learned early independence in Switzerland and the power of preparation in Australia.
Parenting my children across Australia, Switzerland, and the US showed me how deeply culture shapes the way we raise our children.
In Australia, I didn’t fully recognize how much my parenting was influenced by my suburban Sydney lifestyle until we moved abroad.
When my family moved to Switzerland, I noticed the way the Swiss promote child autonomy, empowering their kids from a young age — and when I adopted that mindset, my children thrived.
After moving to the United States, I learned a different parenting lesson about the true value of community and strong support networks, which strengthened my children’s sense of belonging.
Each country offered unique perspectives on parenting, but they taught me the same thing: Raising children isn’t about choosing one philosophy.
Instead, it’s about treating my experiences as a “cultural buffet,” trying new methods, keeping what works, and leaving the rest behind.
In Switzerland, independence is promoted from an early age.
In Switzerland, independence is a big deal for kids. Naomi Tsvirko
When I first moved to Switzerland from Australia, I was stunned to see 5-year-olds in high-visibility vests walking to school alone, without adult supervision.
When I asked my Swiss neighbor about this, she shrugged and said, “Children can do amazing things when you let them.”
I started to give my children more responsibility and even let them walk to the local park and bakery without me. I realized they were ready, and they loved the freedom.
Living there also taught me the importance of letting children be a little uncomfortable.
We no longer hesitate to play in the rain or a bit of snow. Naomi Tsvirko
I remember dropping my kids off at a school playground early one rainy morning in Switzerland. The teacher stood outside, wearing her raincoat, calmly watching the children play in the rain.
In Australia, rainy days were usually spent indoors, but in Switzerland, life continues outdoors in almost any weather.
At first, my son looked up at me, unsure whether to join in. His teacher encouraged him to play, and before long, he was running around like everyone else.
That was when I really understood that common saying: “There’s no such thing as bad weather, only ill-prepared people.” Swiss parents approach tough situations not by avoiding discomfort, but by preparing children to handle it.
Australia showed me it’s important to prepare children for the road rather than trying to control it.
My kids learned a lot in Australia. Naomi Tsvirko
In Australia, helicopter parenting is widely frowned upon. When I worked as a teacher, I quickly learned that parents who hovered over their children didn’t just limit independence, they undermined confidence.
One of the hardest parts of parenting has been learning to step back and let my children take age-appropriate risks, trusting that they can handle them.
That parenting lesson was cemented when my 3-year-old daughter identified a venomous redback spider in our bathroom. She closed the door and informed me right away.
Her preschool had taught her how to recognize dangerous Australian spiders and what to do when they encountered them. It wasn’t fear-mongering, but survival training — a reminder that we can’t control the road ahead, but we can prepare our children to navigate it.
I also learned that being laid-back can help kids build confidence.
Australians can seem laid-back, but that’s not the same as apathy. Naomi Tsvirko
Australians are laid-back by nature, but that doesn’t translate to apathy when it comes to parenting.
We care deeply for our children, but we’re also aware that even subtle parental anxiety can be picked up by them.
When my son was 2 years old, he started swimming lessons. His teacher gently asked me not to sit too close to the pool as she noticed that he kept looking at my face before trying anything new.
She was right. I seemed nervous, and he was even hesitant to put his head underwater.
I realized that I had to control my reactions when my children faced new challenges, otherwise my anxiety would become theirs, turning curiosity into fear instead of confidence.
Our time in the US has shown me how much competition builds confidence.
My kids have gotten more comfortable with competing in sports. Naomi Tsvirko
For many years, I avoided entering my children in competitions because I didn’t want them to feel pressured to be the best at something.
However, after moving to the United States, my perspective shifted. Doing well in a competitive environment built my kids’ confidence, and losing helped build resilience.
My two older children first learned to play ice hockey in Switzerland, but it wasn’t until we moved to the US that they were exposed to higher-level competition. I’m grateful for their hockey coaches who mentored them and challenged my own assumptions about competition along the way.
Later, my daughter was able to represent our country at an international level. What surprised me the most wasn’t the achievement itself, but how much confidence she gained simply from being comfortable with competition.
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Faye Bradley was born and raised in Hong Kong with a Chinese mom.
When she first started seeing “Chinamaxxing” on social media, she felt a surprising sense of pride.
Even though these habits are trending now, they’ve been part of her life for years.
When I first saw “Chinamaxxing” on my feed, I was surprised by how happy it made me.
The viral trend — where people share Chinese lifestyle hacks, from wearing red for luck during Lunar New Year to banning outdoor shoes indoors — felt like watching the world embrace the culture I grew up with.
Around the same time, another phrase was everywhere: “You met me at a very Chinese time in my life.” The line went viral after Hong Kong-born stand-up comedian Jimmy O Yang posted a video of himself singing the well-known Chinese song “Yi Jian Mei” on Instagram in November, with those words splashed across the screen. The clip has since drawn more than 6.5 million views.
It was around the same time that New Jersey TikTok creator Sherry Zhu started sharing wellness tips with her “Chinese baddies.”
Summers in Hong Kong get hot, but Bradley’s mom always discouraged cold water. Proivded by Faye Bradley
Growing up in Hong Kong, I followed these habits long before they had a name. My mom talked constantly about balance: hot versus cold foods, drying your hair before bed, and the little miracles of White Flower Oil.
Watching the internet embrace these traditions made me reflect. Some explanations oversimplify centuries-old practices — feng shui isn’t just moving your desk, and traditional Chinese medicine (TCM) isn’t just a trendy tea. But the curiosity feels genuine.
Here are four simple things my mom taught me years ago that I still swear by.
1. The herbal ointment is a cure-all
Bradley’s mom would use White Flower Oil for aches, pains, and motion sickness; she now does the same. Provided by Faye Bradley
Growing up, my mom would reach for a tiny bottle of White Flower Oil, a concentrated ointment, whenever my brother or I complained about tummy aches.
A dab of the concentrated herbal ointment — that has a sharp smell that combines menthol, eucalyptus, and a hint of lavender — on my belly, temples, or behind my ears, and relief would follow almost instantly.
Today, I carry a small bottle whenever I travel and keep one at my bedside.
It’s also a staple for motion sickness, muscle aches, or even mild stomach pain.
2. Start every morning with a hot cup of water
Hot water helps her with digestion and circulation. Provided by Faye Bradley
My mom had firm rules about drinks. Hong Kong summers are stifling — often 90 degrees Fahrenheit and humid — yet anything cold in the morning was discouraged.
In TCM, hot water is believed to support digestion and circulation, while cold drinks can “shock” the body and disrupt internal balance.
Switching to hot water first thing in the morning may sound trivial, but it transformed my mornings. My energy feels steadier, my stomach calmer, and I start the day feeling grounded instead of jolted awake.
I used to brush off her advice, but after seeing my friends do the same, I began incorporating it into my routine in my late teens.
To think she was right all along.
3. Never go to bed with wet hair
She avoid going to sleep with wet hair. Provided by Faye Bradley
“You’ll get sick!” my mom would yell every time I tried to crawl into bed with damp hair.
I used to roll my eyes, but now, decades later, I have to admit she was right. Sleeping with wet hair often leaves me stiff, chilled, and inexplicably irritable — not just uncomfortable, but subtly disruptive to my body’s rhythm and sleep quality.
For me, blow-drying signals closure: a pause at the end of the day and a small act of respect for my body. By keeping warm and dry before bed, I wake up more rested, my muscles looser, and my mind calmer.
4. Don’t underestimate the rice cooker
Rick cookers can do more than make rice. Provided by Faye Bradley
I remember heading off to university in the UK and asking my future British flatmates in a group chat whether anyone was bringing a rice cooker. “What’s that?” they replied. “We just boil rice in a pan.” I was stunned. When I moved in, I quickly realized I couldn’t live without one. It makes the rice taste better.
And my rice cooker isn’t just for rice. My mom taught me it’s perfect for complete meals: chicken, vegetables, and rice all in one pot. The magic isn’t just convenience — steaming keeps food tender, flavorful, and healthy, locking in nutrients while reducing oil. It’s practical, too, with fewer pots to scrub.
It’s heartening to see these traditions embraced more widely. For me, they’ve always been simple acts of care; practical, grounding habits shaped by generations before us.
My grandma and I spent most of our lives apart, yet she taught me a deeper way to live.
I grew up in California, while my Grandma Jackie lived in Minnesota. We saw each other only on special occasions — summer visits, my high-school graduation, and a few holidays.
Because of the distance, I got to know her through stories from my parents. Most of what I knew about my grandma came from tales of her days fishing, playing slots, and trying her luck at Pokeno.
These stories, mixed in with my own memories of her wide smile and the taste of her one-of-a-kind sweet-potato pie, cemented my connection to her. Yet when she passed away at 99, I felt guilty for not being closer to her.
During my grieving, I reflected on our relationship that flourished despite the time and miles between us. Through our scattered time together, Grandma Jackie gave me three lessons that shape how I live today.
Love doesn’t need many words
Although my grandma didn’t always say much, I knew she loved me.
Kiersten Brown
My grandma wasn’t much of a talker — oftentimes, she could communicate more with a smile than with words.
Whenever I visited her, her brown eyes would light up, and in her raspy voice, she would say, “Well, hi sweetie, how ya doing?”
After a few minutes of pleasantries, the conversation would end. Then we would sit together and watch “Wheel of Fortune.” Occasionally, I’d glance at her, and she’d shoot me a smile.
The same pattern played out during her yearly birthday calls, which lasted three minutes, at best. She would sing “Happy Birthday,” ask how I was doing, and end with, “Well, I’ll holla at you later.”
Interactions felt more like small talk with a coworker than chats with a loved one, and these brief interactions made me question our connection. Short conversations made me feel like we weren’t close because we didn’t have much say.
Yet one day after my grandma’s passing I was talking with my aunt who revealed that love is measured in time spend together.
My aunt mentioned that Grandma Jackie often asked about me and prayed for me nightly. Although we didn’t speak often and saw each other less, she was always thinking of me.
This insight made me realize that silence was more of a way of being than a reflection of our relationship. I realize now that not having much to say was a choice rooted in acceptance and love — she was content with simply having me around.
Because of her, I now focus more on appreciating someone’s presence rather than filling space with chatter.
It’s never too late to change how you live and chase life — no matter the circumstances
My grandma had an unwavering will to live and really took charge of her health at the age of 80 when the doctor’s told her that her she might not have much time left.
She quit smoking, cold turkey. She enrolled in exercise programs, walked daily laps around the house, took supplements, and focused on eating more fruits and vegetables.
More than fearing death, I believe my grandma enjoyed life too much not to fight for it. She had always been someone who loved spending time with her friends, enjoyed traveling within her own state, and considered everyone she met a friend.
When I visited my family a year ago, my grandma attended nearly every event. If she saw someone getting ready to leave, she’d ask, “Where we going?” and expected us to bring her with us. It didn’t matter whether we went to the park or out to eat; she made sure to tag along.
Every day I’m reminded that circumstances don’t have to dictate how I live, and her strength has inspired me to live life to the fullest.
Never stop doing what you enjoy
My grandma tried to spend time with friends and family as much as she could.
Kiersten Brown
As a music lover, she danced whenever her favorite songs came on. When she became less mobile, she would still rock her hips and sway in her chair.
She loved visiting casinos, never focusing on hitting big wins, but rather finding pleasure in simply playing. During her last few years of life, she attended virtual and in-person family bingo every Friday night. When she craved cake and ice cream, she would have some — in moderation, of course.
As time goes on and I grow older, I’m committed to following my grandma’s example. I will be dancing, hiking, and hanging out with friends for as long as I’m alive.
I’d say my grandma reached 99 for two reasons: good genes and complete dedication to living her life the best way she could. Because of her, I live with more purpose and intention.
In 2023, my dad called to tell me he’d dropped down to four days a week at work.
He’d had a long career as an insurance underwriter, though it didn’t define him. At one point, he even left the profession to become a plasterer for a decade to better balance out his schedule. Still, it served him well enough.
“You really are getting old, then,” I joked. Dad laughed — he was only in his 50s.
We talked about his retirement and how he planned to wind down gradually over the next few years, before pulling the trigger and paying a full-time job’s worth of attention to the golf course.
That step was the first, and last dad took toward retiring. A year later, he told me he had cancer.
His diagnosis marked the beginning of a period in which I spent every day with him. He had been exceptionally fit, competing in triathlons, marathons, and Ironman races, but went from Hyrox to hospice care in just eight weeks.
Then on June 19, 2024, at the age of 56, Dad’s oesophageal cancer snatched away his future, and any prospect of a retirement.
I later realized our conversations during his illness were a textbook of the values by which he had lived his life. I’d heard him talk along similar lines in the past, but it wasn’t until I was lucky enough to spend each day for two months with him as his peer that I was able to distill them into three lessons.
Now, at the age of 32, these guide me in my career and life, and frame the way I think about retirement.
Live as if you might never make it
Dad while doing the Tour De Mont Blanc.
Callum Macauley-Murdoch
It may sound a morbid start, but I see this principle as both pragmatic and a call to action.
I see it as pragmatic because, of course, it is true: You might very well not make it to your retirement. And thinking about death in this way can help you take important practical steps, like ensuring you have an updated will and, at the very least, start thinking about granting powers of attorney.
And I see it as a call to action because, when loss helps you understand that life is precarious, it shines a light on how we often live without confronting the inevitability of death.
With that understanding, a more fulfilling life can emerge years earlier than it might otherwise have; one that, perhaps, you dreamed might come in retirement.
This principle led my dad to travel widely, a habit he passed to me. I’m due to visit New Zealand soon, the place he unknowingly took his final big trip. It also led him to take up the sports that piqued his interest over the years, and achieve a genuine sense of contentment.
It took me a lesson in the brutality of life, and the illuminating chaos of grief, to truly understand the importance of living it.
Build a life that gives you choices
Dad finishing an Ironman in Wales.
Callum Macauley-Murdoch
One of the pitfalls of the first lesson is that, if taken literally, it could lead to financial ruin.
If it were a certainty I’d never make it to retirement, I’d spend everything I had now. However, in a classic catch-22, living life like I’d never make it there would delay my retirement in perpetuity.
So instead, I keep an eye on the future and try to resist the urge to part with all my money in exchange for experiences now, so that I can have some freedom of choice when I retire.
For Dad, working hard and getting an education meant having choices, and that influenced many of my decisions in life, including the one to pursue a career in corporate law.
In the end, that didn’t align with the life I wanted, but the experience gave me the skills and financial backing to choose a different legal career for myself.
Because of my job and savings I’ve built up from it, I had choices when Dad died. I was able to pause, reassess my life, and temporarily step away from my busy career.
During that time, I thought about how he used to ask me about work and I’d sometimes tell him how I wished I could just retire now to travel the world and write. He’d remind me I had a long way to go.
But now, those passions I always thought I’d save for later, like planning a trip to New Zealand or getting my master’s in creative writing, have become present pursuits.
Soon enough, though, I’ll pick up some legal work again. Why? Because unless I write a bestselling novel by the end of the year, I still want choices in retirement, should I make it there.
Find the adventure in everything
My dad on a hike at Arthur’s Pass in New Zealand.
Callum Macauley-Murdoch
Dad took a keen interest in all aspects of life, and didn’t take much of it seriously — because of that, not in spite of it, he was still successful in much of what he did.
This lesson applies to every aspect of life, including retirement, which I’m viewing as simply another opportunity to experience a new pocket of life.
It even applies to terminal illness. When my dad was nearing the end of his life, he said something in an attempt to comfort me, which has ended up being the most transformative lesson of the three.
“Life is one series of adventures. This is just another one.”
That impacted me profoundly, and taught me to seek joy even in life’s darkest corners.
These days, I view my retirement, career, and life much differently
Dad and I at my wedding.
Callum Macauley-Murdoch
Losing Dad changed how I think about my life, career, and the very concept of retirement.
Most of all, it prompted me to stop deferring what I truly wanted to my final years while still setting myself up to have choices in the future.
Now that I’m taking incremental steps towards something I’d be happy to do well into my old age, the dream of retirement crosses my mind less often.
Jake Paul was a firebrand YouTuber. Then he was an NFT merchant, and a betting site operator. Now, Paul is a professional boxer — and venture capitalist. And he’s learning from one of the biggest names in tech.
On “Sourcery,” Paul said that he met OpenAI CEO Sam Altman while sitting next to each other at President Donald Trump’s inauguration.
“Sam likes fast cars, and so do I,” Paul said. “So, we just started talking about cars, and then we got along, and that was really it.”
Paul’s Anti Fund — which is also led by his brother Logan and longtime founder Geoffrey Woo — invested in OpenAI in 2025. The biggest lesson he’s learned from Altman is efficiency, Paul said.
He described the quick-and-tidy meetings that Altman runs. The OpenAI CEO “walks into the room, sits down, let’s get right into the conversation, boom boom boom,” he said.
In 15 minutes alone, Altman was “hella productive,” Paul said. Then, Altman can go on to his next meeting and do it all over again.
“We’ll do hourlong meetings or calls and just waste time,” Paul said. “I think that was inspiring because time is the most valuable thing, and it’s the only reason you can’t accomplish more.”
Indeed, Altman has long opted for the 15-minute meeting. In a 2018 blog post, he wrote that the ideal meeting time is either around 15 to 20 minutes or 2 hours, but “the default of 1 hour is usually wrong.”
Paul has worked closely with OpenAI in the last year, beyond participating in fundraising.
Remember all of those strange Paul memes running around the internet during the Sora 2 launch? They were by design. Paul said he helped consult on the project and was one of the first to sign over his name, image, and likeness.
Woo also appeared on the podcast, and spelled out the thinking behind those far-out memes (such as an AI Paul declaring he was gay). “It was not something that was like, ‘Hey, Jake Paul is now gay.’ Jake was thoughtful in terms of why we were part of that launch.”
Woo also said that he had formed a good friendship with Altman and Mark Chen, OpenAI’s chief research officer.
For the Sora 2 launch, Paul said that he had “regular calls” with OpenAI and offered “super detailed consulting.”
“Me and my brother have however many years combined of social media experience since the beginning,” Paul said. “We were there when the term ‘influencer’ was even made up.”
This background, Paul said, helped him give good advice on what OpenAI’s social media-like interface should look like. He advised on both what creators and audiences wanted, he said.
Anti Fund closed its $30 million fund in September. Other investments include defense tech startup Anduril and prediction market Polymarket.
Woo said their ties to OpenAI remain strong. “We were just at OpenAI for three hours looking for other ways to collaborate,” he said. “Things might be cooking.”
Rev. Jesse Jackson Sr. took a chance on me as a 19-year-old college student.
At that age, as an intern in 2009, I should’ve been pouring coffee, maybe making copies. Instead, he put me to work on college affordability policy, youth violence prevention, and immigration reform at his Rainbow PUSH (People United to Serve Humanity) Coalition on the South Side of Chicago.
That was nearly two decades ago. This week, he passed away.
A few weeks ago, I sat with him in the hospital. He was extremely present even as Progressive Supranuclear Palsy disorder had taken his voice — the same instrument that had formed seemingly impossible coalitions and made the moral case for justice in language that brought people together instead of tearing them apart.
I considered Rev. Jackson a close mentor
I met him in 2009 at a press conference he held to announce his intention to negotiate the release of journalist Roxana Saberi from an Iranian prison.
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Saberi was an alum of Northwestern University, where I was a student. Several classmates and I had staged a rally to call attention to her issue, and Rev. Jackson had invited us to join him at his press conference in Chicago.
When it ended and everyone packed up to leave, I made a split-second decision.
I grabbed him by the shoulder — strongly enough that his security detail sprang into action — and asked if I could volunteer for his Reduce-the-Rate initiative on college affordability. It was an issue that deeply resonated with me, as I’d borrowed a crippling amount to attend Northwestern. He said yes.
That moment changed everything. Less than a month later, I became the campaign’s manager, working part-time during school. I handled policy research and community interface and accompanied Rev. Jackson to meetings and events. I spent time with him every week and at times even did my homework at his house.
He became a mentor, coaching me and looking out for me not only professionally, but personally. I left the role in 2011, but over the years, we stayed close.
From Rev. Jackson, I learned three lessons about leadership that have shaped everything I’ve done since.
Lesson 1: Lean into hard moments, not out.
Rev. Jackson had a pattern: When things got difficult, he moved closer to the problem, not away from it.
He negotiated the release of over 200 hostages across Syria, Cuba, Iraq, and Serbia. He flew into war zones and sat across the table from dictators. He showed up to Texaco’s headquarters during their discrimination scandal. He walked into corporate boardrooms where he wasn’t welcome.
Many leaders I know do the opposite. When crisis hits, they create distance — delegate to lawyers, let the public relations team handle it, wait for it to blow over.
Rev. Jackson taught me that the moments when you want to step back are precisely when you need to step forward. Your measure as a leader is taken in the hardest moments, not the easy ones.
The author with Rev. Jackson during an interview outside of Pacific Gardens Mission, a homeless shelter in Chicago, in 2012.
Courtesy of Bradley Akubuiro
Lesson 2: Never stop investing in people.
Rev. Jackson had no reason to believe in my abilities. But he understood that individuals have incredible capacity for growth — they just don’t start off optimally productive.
He put a 19-year-old on policy work that mattered, then put me on-air representing the campaign. That wasn’t reckless — it was intentional investment. He knew that by giving people opportunities, some would disappoint him over the years, but the ones who didn’t might surpass what he could’ve imagined.
I’ve carried that forward — looking for people others overlook and investing in their growth. Not everyone pans out. But the ones who do become extraordinary.
Real leadership isn’t about finding perfect people. It’s about developing the potential in imperfect ones.
Lesson 3: Conflict and conversation can coexist.
Rev. Jackson was simultaneously the agitator and the negotiator. The prophet and the pragmatist.
He showed up uninvited to shareholder meetings and organized boycotts, but also sat down with those same executives afterward to identify resolutions.
“Diamonds can’t be produced without pressure,” he once told me. This applies to individuals, organizations, and systems.
He understood that real change requires both confrontation and conversation. You can’t just be nice and hope things improve. But you also can’t only apply pressure and expect people to come around.
I watched him do this with the Wall Street Project, pressuring corporations like Texaco and Coca-Cola to commit billions to diversity initiatives. He made them uncomfortable with boycotts. Then he sat down with their leadership and helped build solutions.
The author (right) with Rev. Jackson and his son, Rainbow PUSH Coalition COO, Yusef Jackson, in 2025.
Courtesy of Bradley Akubuiro.
Too many leaders think they have to choose to either be tough or be empathetic. Rev. Jackson taught me that’s a false choice; the best leaders do both.
The work continues
Rev. Jackson once told me the work of justice isn’t about being comfortable. It’s about being consistent. It’s about showing up when it’s hard, especially when staying silent would be easier.
He showed up. Consistently. The work he did — building coalitions across impossible divides, making the moral case in language that united rather than divided — we need it now more than ever.
Last week, when I held the first copy from the printer and saw the quote from him on the front cover, it was so moving. That he could support me one last time means the world to me.
I grabbed his shoulder at 19 because I didn’t want to let the moment pass. He taught me to lean into hard moments, develop people others overlook, and hold the tension between conflict and conversation.
That work doesn’t end with him. It’s up to us to pick it up.
Bradley Akubuiro is a partner at Bully Pulpit International, where he advises corporate leaders like Levi Strauss and the NFL on high-visibility reputation and diversity and inclusion matters.
My grandparents, whom I call Papa and GG, have been together since they were teenagers and married for 54 years.
As I’ve grown up, I’ve realized the secret to their lasting love hasn’t been perfection or grand gestures. Instead, it’s in finding joy and meaning in life’s small, everyday moments.
Their marriage has taught me how powerful a gentle, consistent love can be, and how beautifully it can shape everything around it.
Here are three of the biggest lessons I’ve learned from them that I hope to bring into my own relationships.
To maintain the “spark,” nurture curiosity
My grandparents still discover new things about each other, more than 50 years into their marriage.
Sierra Newell
Whether it’s by going on a spontaneous camping trip or navigating retirement together, my grandparents delight in discovering new things about each other.
Both avid readers, they often will sit beneath their orange tree and share quotes from their books. After long Sunday walks through the park, they also like to continue their running card game of gin rummy, laughter, and nostalgic stories tumbling between them.
Even after decades together, they also eat dinner with each other nearly every night, eager to unravel each other’s thoughts, feelings, and experiences.
Find creative, consistent ways to express your love
My Papa has clipped many “Love Is…” comics over the years.
Sierra Newell
My grandparents have found a variety of ways to show each other they care.
Every morning, for example, my Papa clips the “Love Is…” comic strip from the newspaper and places it on the kitchen counter for GG. He also writes poems, scribbled on notepads, painted on rocks, or sent as random texts throughout the day.
Meanwhile, GG often sends photos of heart-shaped stones or leaves she finds on her walks, and they both leave handwritten notes in each other’s suitcases when they travel.
Physical affection anchors it all, though. There’s rarely ever a moment when they aren’t holding hands or resting a head on a shoulder. They often seem to do it without even realizing, as though one another is as constant and grounding as gravity.
Remember to prioritize your own happiness, too
I appreciate how each of my grandparents still pursues their own interests.
Sierra Newell
In my opinion, one of the reasons their relationship still feels so alive is because they never stopped making room for their individual interests.
GG started playing mahjong in retirement and now competes in tournaments, and Papa likes to play golf around the world.
Instead of resenting or fearing change, they celebrate each other’s passions, and watching each other reinvent themselves sustains their mutual excitement.
The common thread is joy
These days, it can be hard to sift through the barrage of conflicting advice on how to find and cultivate long-lasting love.
Still, witnessing my grandparents build a life out of tiny kindnesses — notes slipped into suitcases, breakfast cartoons, and shared laughter — has shown me the recipe is simpler than we think.
I see how extraordinary it is to share life’s simplest joys, to choose a partner who is real, steady, and kind. That level of devotion is an everyday miracle, and I try to weave those threads into my own relationships.
I send handwritten letters back and forth with my friends and family, and my boyfriend and I collect concert tickets, printed menus, and postcards from trips and dates we’ve experienced.
These items are arranged in a collage in my apartment, ink-stained and wrinkled, but tangible proof of the love my grandparents have taught me to sow.
What do Timothée Chalamet, Ariana Grande, Sabrina Carpenter, Addison Rae, and Blackpink’s Rosé have in common?
They’re all nominated for Grammy Awards this year, and they’ve all worked closely with the same vocal coach: Eric Vetro.
In an industry that runs on pomp and publicity, Vetro is the man behind the curtain shaping the voices of some of Hollywood’s biggest stars. Over the decades, his A-list roster has grown largely by word of mouth, with happy students across all genres recommending him to friends and coworkers.
In addition to counting many of today’s biggest pop stars like Grande, Katy Perry, and Carpenter as clients, he’s been involved in over 40 feature films, training actors like Chalamet, Angelina Jolie, and Jeremy Allen White to emulate musicians like Bob Dylan, Maria Callas, and Bruce Springsteen. He’s done his time coaching rock singers (Meat Loaf, Weezer’s Rivers Cuomo), Broadway stars (Bette Midler, Kristin Chenoweth) and Oscar winners (Emma Stone, Renée Zellweger). He even got a shoutout in an Ariana Grande lyric in her 2019 single “Monopoly” (“I never track my vocals, so shout out to Eric Vetro / I love Eric Vetro, man”).
Vetro’s vocation may keep him in close proximity to the limelight, but he’s never wanted to step into it himself, preferring to play his coaching role with a proudly gentle touch. Being a vocal coach, he said, is as much about building confidence and managing his famous clients’ stress as it is about delicately giving feedback when they don’t hit the high notes.
“I’m pretty good at delivering a negative in a way that they know I’m only doing it because I care about them,” Vetro explained. “A lot of times I say to people, look, I’m going to be honest with you because I don’t want you to come back to me later and say, ‘You told me I was doing a great job, but I really wasn’t,’ or, ‘You said I sounded great on this song, but I really didn’t.'”
“Most of them are pretty open. They want to hear what can make them sound better,” he added. “I’m not really interested in working with someone who’s just phoning it in.”
Vetro himself certainly isn’t. His job has seen him huddled in public bathrooms with pop stars (for better acoustics, of course) and ferried to LAX at 6 a.m. to run vocal warmups with a client as soon as they deplaned. Once, he had a session with Julia Louis-Dreyfus in the middle of a poison ivy patch while she was filming the 2000 musical “Geppetto.”
Despite the ever-frenzied logistics, Vetro said he loves his job now more than ever.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he said.
Ahead of the 2026 Grammys, Vetro spoke to Business Insider about what it’s like to teach, critique, and win affection from some of the biggest names in show business.
On managing the stresses and vulnerabilities of A-list stars while giving honest feedback
Ariana Grande performs at the 2024 Met Gala.
Kevin Mazur/MG24/Getty Images for The Met Museum/Vogue
You work with a lot of people on the cusp of something big — a movie, a tour, a performance. How much of your job is stress management?
Well, picture singing at the Grammys, which is live. So if they screw up, that’s not good. Or the Oscars. That’s live, so if they make a mistake, that’s not good.
So a lot of it is stress management. But I try to think of all the things that the person needs, and then I try to fulfill all of those needs in every session that we do.
I try to get them to really learn how to use their voice the best way they possibly can, how to warm up their voice the best way they possibly can, how to find the correct placement for the song that they’re going to be singing, or songs that they’re going to be singing. But also how to stay grounded, how to stay relaxed.
It’s kind of like a holistic approach. What they eat and drink is going to affect how they sound, how much sleep they get is going to affect how they sound, the environment they’re in. It might be very dry, so they need to have a humidifier going, or they might have to make sure they have a personal steamer with them, depending on how much hydration they get. It entails a lot of different things. So I just try to fit all of that in as much as I can.
What have you learned about what it’s like to be famous through working with some of your students?
I’ve learned it’s exhausting. It’s intrusive. It can be really fun and wonderful, but it also makes people much more self-conscious because they don’t want to get caught looking their worst. They don’t want to get caught tripping, looking foolish.
Sometimes they just want to be with their friends alone. And how often can you really do that? You might be in a city and go, “I just want to take a walk up and down this strip where there are some great stores,” or, “I’ve heard this is a really fun walking path.” Well, how can you just be yourself when people are taking pictures of you? And not just paparazzi now. It’s anybody.
Eric Vetro with Jeremy Allen White.
Courtesy of Eric Vetro
You necessarily see a vulnerable side of very famous people, because it’s vulnerable to sing in front of someone — especially if you’re tired, if you’re doing it a cappella, if your voice may be a little strained.
I do, but I get also a really sweet, wonderful side, people who are so appreciative. I don’t have any bad stories. I couldn’t sell a bad story about someone. I’ve had such great experiences with people — and most of them, when you really get to the heart of things, are pretty humble. Even the biggest stars are the most humble, and they aren’t arrogant about what they do.
A lot of people come across much more confident and assured on camera when they’re doing an interview, because that’s basically what’s expected of them. The fans want them to be that way. But in person, when we’re just alone, they’re really very sweet people who want to do the best job they can, who don’t want to disappoint. They don’t want to disappoint their family. They don’t want to disappoint their teams, and they don’t want to disappoint their fans. So they’re working really hard to do the best possible job they can.
I used to have this image in my head of a pyramid: all the bricks on the bottom of the pyramid represented agent, manager, labels, choreographers, vocal coaches, stylists, hair, makeup — all these people holding this one person up, whether it’s an actor or a music artist, at the top. That’s how I used to see it before I really worked in the “big time” or the professional realm.
Now I see it as completely opposite: The person who is the artist or the actor is at the bottom, holding up all of this. Because without that person, none of these people have jobs. So they have to be successful in order for all these people to have jobs, and people feel that. They feel the pressure of making sure their team is taken care of, making sure their team has work.
On Sabrina Carpenter’s work ethic and helping Timothée Chalamet sing like Bob Dylan
Eric Vetro with Rosé and Addison Rae.
Courtesy of Eric Vetro
I’m so glad Addison Rae is nominated for best new artist at the Grammys. Since she came from the TikTok world, what was something you focused on to develop her voice as someone who wasn’t known as a singer before?
My main focus with her was just to get her to understand her voice, so that she would know how to sound like she wanted to sound.
She was working with two excellent female songwriters. They all were on the same page with everything, and especially after I heard “Diet Pepsi,” I was like, “Oh, OK. I completely get what they’re going for.” So now, let me try to keep working with her to be able to have her voice sound the best it can — in that world, in that sound, in that genre, keeping that vibe.
Addison has a phenomenal personality, and she also has a very creative mind. I think if you watch any of the videos of her performing, you go, “Oh, this is very specific to her.” Addison has her own thing going on, and so I just wanted her to feel confident when she got onstage that she could sound like the album.
Timothée Chalamet is also nominated for a Grammy for the “A Complete Unknown” soundtrack. What’s the biggest difference between training someone who is trying to emulate a certain singer versus somebody who is singing as themselves?
I start out basically the same with both, just trying to teach them how best to use their voice, how to understand their voice, vocal exercises to strengthen their voice, to increase their range.
Then we start listening, and I try to get them to really listen: What are the characteristics that make this singer special? Is it the way they pronounce a word? Is it the way they attack a note? We start really discovering the essence of these singers that they’re going to emulate — not as a carbon copy, because a carbon copy then becomes an impersonation.
With Timothée Chalamet, it’s like, why did Bob Dylan sound a certain way? And then when you look at him, you go, oh, well, he had a certain posture about him. You can see maybe his leg twitching a little or tapping on the beat. Whereas Joan Baez was very aggressive in her tone. So I would say to Monica Barbaro, who was playing Joan Baez, why do you think it was so aggressive? Do you think it was just, that was her naturally? Or maybe she felt like she had to be a woman in a man’s world, especially in those days? Or is it because the subject matter she’s singing about is so powerful to her and so strong, and she wants to get it across?
So then you start thinking why they are singing a certain way. That’s a better way to capture the essence of them organically.
Timothée Chalamet as Bob Dylan in “A Complete Unknown.”
Macall Polay/Searchlight Pictures
If I’m working with a singer who just wants to sound like themselves, then I start by saying, what do you think is special about your voice? What do we want to bring out about it? Or what is it you want to sound like?
I usually ask, if someone is listening to you in a concert, what do you want them to walk away with? How would you want your voice to be described? That’s a huge question to ask. Sometimes they haven’t even thought about that, and they might think, oh, I want my voice to have a really warm tone, or I want to have a tone that they can relate to, so they can relate to what I’m singing about.
Another big nominee this year is Sabrina Carpenter. I know that you two have worked together for a long time. From the perspective of someone on the inside, what would you say is most notable about her growth over the last couple of years?
Sabrina worked so hard for so many years. She’s one of those performers that, kind of like Ariana, once they get on a roll, they know what they’re doing. Once they find their voice, find out how they want to sound, what they want their vibe to be, what they want their performances to look like and sound like, they just get on a roll, and then it’s almost like a freight train. It just goes.
Sabrina has really honed in on having the best possible time being authentically herself, and I think that that’s what’s so great. She takes episodes out of her own life and puts them into her music, and she’s been doing that for a long time, but I think she just keeps getting better and better and better at it.
That’s the thing about someone who’s continually doing it. Now, if they’re the type of person who takes big vacations, big chunks of time off in between, I don’t think you can have that momentum, but these girls don’t take time off. They’re constantly moving and doing things. You might not see what they’re doing because they’re prepping for something else or prepping for something for the future, but she’s working all the time. She is the least lazy person on the planet.
It sounds like a big part of your job is focused on longevity, making sure people keep their voices healthy through the craziness.
I focus a lot on that. I think that’s so important. I don’t want anyone to burn out, or miss a really great opportunity, or to sing incorrectly, then get a vocal nodule, then have vocal cord surgery, then lose several months out of their life. I try to avoid that at all costs.
I say this every year, so I think people probably go, “Yeah, right,” but I enjoy it more now than ever. I keep enjoying it more as I get older.
I feel like I’m more empathetic than I’ve ever been, because I really understand how difficult it is.
This interview has been edited and condensed for length and clarity.
