Parenting 

For those who have started a company, you know it’s not for the faint of heart. And for those who have started a family, especially with kids, that experience adds a new level of both reward and heartache. If you’ve done both, or are considering either, you might appreciate this reflection on parenting and still trying to get it right as my oldest turns 25. 

Obsession with “A’s” 

All four of my babies—two daughters, a Cairn Terrier and Agenda (the one turning 25)—have names that begin with the letter “A.” My obsession with A’s isn’t about academic performance, but with the letter itself—the beauty of its form and anatomy, and the association with quality and being first. 

When Agenda made our first piece of swag, I took the first and last letters of our name and put them side by side: “Aa.” It was a nod to the letters on classroom walls across America, each shown in uppercase and lowercase. We used Akzidenz Grotesque, the precursor to Helvetica, with a custom lowercase “a” to reflect our love of typography. I loved the naïve concept and carefree design. 

After my daughters were born, this design took on another meaning. It came to represent them—capital “A” for older Audrey, and lowercase “a” for younger Agnes. Whenever I put on that shirt (it still fits!), I wear them proudly on my chest.

Guilt of lost time 

In the early days, I traveled a lot for work—sometimes for months, during those formative years when parental presence matters most. My agency often competed with my kids for attention. Sadly, my daughters often lost out. There’s guilt, knowing nothing will make up for lost time. But we try, as I did. 

Years ago, I traveled to a remote Ethiopian village to make a video for Samsung. After interviewing locals and setting up the shoot list, my main focus was to keep the village kids entertained so they wouldn’t distract Ruben, my director and DP. For a few days, I babysat them. We played a game where they repeated everything I said. In Korean. In English. In gibberish. It didn’t matter. The kids didn’t know what they were saying, but they said it with uncanny accuracy and infectious glee. I even had them send a greeting to my kids.

Putting food on the table 

There are many ways to nourish our loved ones—with ideas, inspiration, kindness, advice. But for me, one of the best ways is still with food. 

In January 2019, Chris Lee and I decided to try the Whole 30 diet. We prepped ingredients to bring to the office—usually me with the protein and Chris with the sides. Soon, it became more elaborate, moving from microwaving to sautéing, and we even started plating our food with fancy garnishes like Ikura over zoodles in vegan broth. Once, Victor made ceviche to go with our pan-seared scallops. 

Of course, we shared our meals. Some days we had just a few people join us, and on others, a full table. It felt like our own bistro at the office, and teaming up with Chris guaranteed lasting memories.

When your kids surpass you 

I remember sitting with toddler Agnes, showing her how to draw human figures. She would watch, marvel and mimic. Fast forward, and I’m flipping through her sketchbooks, realizing she now draws better than I did at her age—and even better than I do now. A proud moment. 

When Audrey started playing cello, I rented one to teach myself, using the same beginner’s book. I’ve since given up, but Audrey plays beautifully, enough to move an audience or play in soul-nourishing solitude. 

This brings me to one of my favorite quotes from Michelangelo, describing his sculpting process: “I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free.” I’ve always held the chisel, but the day I realized the chisel was in better hands with the team, it wasn’t bittersweet—it was the sweetest moment. 

And teach you things 

It gets harder to learn as you age, but my colleagues have set inspiring examples. 

Tough love: I’ve always struggled with this, prone to overcompensate one for the other, throw blunt daggers or gush effusive praise. Over time, I’ve learned to strike a balance, thanks in no small part to Claudia Mark. Her frankness may be tough, but it always comes from a place of love. 

Showing up: When we moved offices from West 43rd to 630 9th, there was a lot to do. We needed all the help we could get, so we flew in our moms, brought in our wives and kids. I was surprised when Emily showed up, ready to work. It moved me beyond words. She became family that day. 

Asking the right questions: We met Vincent during the height of the pandemic. After a few Zoom conversations, we decided to meet in person, “taking off the masks.” He came to workshop us. And his questions seemed simple, but they struck at the heart of what we needed. Together on that fateful day, we found clarity in our vision for Agenda. 

Thanksgiving 

Our first Thanksgiving as Agenda was spent at the office, working and ordering takeout from the Chinese place downstairs. In those early days, we worked hard and often saw the sunrise from the office more times than I care to remember. But learning to let joy break through struggle is key to life. 

Finally, I must thank a few people. 

David, you are my professional father figure, for better or worse. You started this, and I remain grateful to you. 

Victor, my professional spouse (I guess I’m the mom in this metaphor). We’ve been through hell and back, and never once uttered the “D” word. 

Heeyeon, my love, thank you for raising our girls and enabling me to help raise Agenda.