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I don’t know why the name Bob Carter popped into my head while I was at work this morning. I googled him just to see if I could find a photo or be reminded of when he died.

Bob Carter was the CTO of Keller Williams Realty and I worked for him for a fondly-remembered brief period of time while I was in college. I worked for Bob thanks to his wife.

I was probably a sophomore in college. I was a computer science major back then and, at the time, I worked at PetSmart. I’d worked there for a while when Bob’s wife was hired. I feel terribly as I can’t remember her name to save my life right now. She was great. She and I got along like peas and carrots. We worked alongside each other and got to know each other. At some point I’d told her that I was a computer science major. Her husband, Bob, was the Chief Technology Officer at Keller Williams. She put two-and-two together for me and before long, I was resigning from PetSmart and signing on with Keller Williams to work directly for the head of technology.

I will always remember my first day of work. I think I had to be there at 8:00 a.m., but I didn’t have a tie, so I drove to Walmart at 7:00 a.m. and bought myself a tie.

Bob was wonderful. He was very nice to me and cared about my future. I don’t remember what all he had me doing, but it was all the trivial adminstrative stuff that needed to be done while Bob fried the bigger fish. Bob had always been a team of one. Now he had someone to call on all of the regional offices to get agent names, phone numbers, and email addresses for the company database. He probably showed me code and plans and timelines. I cared enough to do my job, but it was at that point in my college career that I wasn’t loving computer science.

Bob was good to me. So was his wife. I will always remember that. I didn’t last long though. It might’ve been that my semester schedule changed. I might’ve quit. I can’t recall.

Fast forward a couple semesters and I find myself working at the Olive Garden in south Austin. I very much remember one evening when the restaurant was slammed. The entire wait staff was running around like crazy, myself included, and I ran into Bob’s wife. She and friends and family were being escorted to their table by the hostess. I didn’t see her. She saw me and she called out to me.

I went to her with a big smile and told her that it was great to see her and asked her how Bob was doing. As I was saying my pleasantries I realized that she’d been crying. She told me that Bob had died very recently. I was baffled and caught off guard. I didn’t know what to say. I’m sure I said somethiong like, “omigosh I’m so sorry.” I had to move along because I probably had nine tables that were waiting on me to deliver breadsticks. My plan was to hunt down her table later and talk to her more and express my condolences.

That never happened. I hope one day I’ll get that shot again.

As I was poking around this morning, reminscing about my relationship with Bob Carter, I learned that Keller Williams Realty International awards the presiguous annual Bob Carter Inspiration Award.

The Bob Carter Award at Keller Williams Realty has a very specific origin, and it is actually rooted in one of the stories that helped shape the culture behind KW’s business philosophy.

Who was Bob Carter?

Bob Carter was a programmer who worked with Gary Keller and the early Keller Williams organization. Keller brought Carter in to develop a proprietary operating software system for one of the company’s businesses.

The project became increasingly complex. Carter continued maintaining and improving the system over several years, fixing bugs and adding features. The problem was that much of the later work wasn’t fully documented. As a result, Carter had become essentially the only person who could readily administer or modify the system.

Then, in the mid-1990s, Carter was diagnosed with terminal cancer and was given only a short time to live.

What happened next is the heart of the award.

Rather than simply walking away from his responsibilities, Carter recognized that the company depended on the knowledge he carried. While undergoing chemotherapy, he worked with a consultant to systematically document years of changes to the software, continuing the work until the final weeks of his life. Gary Keller described this as an extraordinary demonstration of integrity and commitment.

Why an award was created

That experience inspired Keller Williams to establish the Bob Carter Inspiration Award.

Gary Keller describes its purpose as recognizing someone in the company who demonstrates:

extraordinary selflessness and service in the face of adversity

The award therefore isn’t fundamentally a sales award. It’s about character under pressure: someone who continues to serve others, gives without putting themselves first, and demonstrates exceptional commitment when circumstances are difficult.

That’s also why the award fits so neatly into the broader KW culture of “God, family, then business,” generosity, contribution, and the idea that success isn’t merely measured by production.

The award became a KW tradition

By the mid-2000s, it was being presented at the international level. One early documented recipient was Betty Bezemer, who received the first Bob Carter Inspiration Award for Keller Williams International after overcoming breast cancer and continuing to contribute to the KW community.

The tradition continued through KW’s Family Reunion era. For example, Doris Carlin received the award after leading her market center through the aftermath of the Joplin tornado, and later recipients have included people recognized for significant service to others and their communities.

KW’s own Outfront magazine later described the award as something given annually to an inspirational member of the Keller Williams family.

The interesting connection to The Millionaire Real Estate Agent

There’s a particularly nice wrinkle here.

The Bob Carter story appears in Gary Keller’s The Millionaire Real Estate Agent, in the chapter discussing systems and documentation. Keller uses Carter’s experience to make a business lesson: don’t allow critical knowledge to live only inside one person’s head.

So the story has two layers:

Business lesson:
Document your systems so the business can survive when a key person is suddenly unavailable.

Cultural lesson:
When adversity strikes, choose service and responsibility rather than self-preservation.

The second lesson is what became the Bob Carter Inspiration Award.

In one sentence

The Bob Carter Award exists because Bob Carter, while dying of cancer, spent his remaining time documenting the systems he had built so that the people and company depending on him would not be left stranded.

That’s why the award is really about selfless contribution in the face of adversity, rather than achievement alone.

You would’ve been 66 today. The last memory I have of you is when you drove from California to Texas to see mom and dad. They’d already planned on spending the weekend with us, so you came with them, to my pleasant surprise. And that was the weekend you helped me build the deck. Your hands helped build this deck. A thing in the physical world that is proof to me that you were once alive and breathing. I liked having you here, alive and breathing.

I miss you. I love you.

This is the only photo I took that night.

I took the girls to eat dinner at Habana on August 13th. It was an intentional dinner. I chose the date because two years ago on August 13th we left the house and started the road trip to move Maly to Charleston. That was one of the worst days of my life. They say the best thing about being a parent is watching your kids grow up. And the worst thing about being a parent is watching your kids grow up.

It was also the Thursday before Mara started high school the following Tuesday.

It’s the time of year when I usually start getting really depressed. A new grade or a new year in school is my children growing and me aging. A reset. A chance to look back. For me to look at and wonder, “did I do enough? Did I say enough? Do they know that I love them?”

I didn’t have an agenda for dinner. But I told them the significance of the date for me. Maly recounted it as a pretty negative experience in her life. Mara didn’t have much to contribute on the subject of her starting high school. I hope it’s just her inherent stoicism.

It was really nice to just hang out and have dinner with my girls. I didn’t try to force it to become a “Core Memory – Summer 2026.” We just hung out on the warm and breezy patio, ate some Cuban food and talked about whatever we talked about.

Here’s an old photo from a daddy/daughters date:

While it’s still quiet.

Work was light today. Traffic home was light today. It rained all day. I guess a lot of people stayed home. Or are working late. I took the detour on the way home to get gas at 7-Eleven. After filling the truck up I decided I’d swing by the creek on the way home to see if we’d gotten enough rain to fill it. Slaughter Creek has turned into a dry creek in the past few years. It takes a lot of rain in and around Austin, and especially northwest of here.

I turned into the park and I just started getting choked up. It’s gray and drizzling outside. If I closed my eyes for two minutes and reopened them, I could probably convince myself that this is late December. I imagine myself suprised and excited to see that there’s actually water flowing through Slaughter Creek in the park. I imagine turning the truck around and driving home fast to get Mara.

“Hey, c’mon! Put some cruddy shorts and shoes on and let’s go to the creek!”

“Meh.”

“Oh, c’mon! It’ll be fun!”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“Yeah?”

“Nooo. I don’t really want to.”

“What?! Why not.”

“Because it’s kind of dumb and it’s boring.”

“IT. IS. NOT. DUMBANDBORNING!”

“…”

[I am calm and being fatherly and introspective henceforth. And I’m still imagining.]

“You know what? I have really good memories of you and me and that creek. In fact, most of my absolute best memories of my life as a dad are of you and me and that creek. It was always our thing. You were always up for an adventure. Most of the time you wouldn’t even ask. I’d just come find you playing in the house somewhere and say, ‘go put on some junky clothes. We’re going on an adventure!’ And you’d run off and get changed and be ready faster than me. We’d walk along the trail. We’d wade in the water. We’d skip rocks. You’d climb the big oak limb that hung just a couple feet above the creek bed. I honestly don’t remember a single conversation that we had. I like to think I maybe gave you some life advice, things to remember, and things to remember me by, and just some dadisms in general.

It was the millions of things we talked about. I know I’ve taught you what an oak tree is and what an elm tree is. I know we talked a lot about Moana. And school, friends, family, red-tail hawks, snakes, bugs, jobs, money, dreams, dewberries, and probably some family history. And there was always a lot of laughing.

And you’re my youngest child and you’re growing up! You’re growing up too fast and I resent you for it and I’m angry at myself because I could’ve-should’ve-would’ve and I’m FIFTY-goddamn-years-old now and I can’t claw back any of those 14 years and three months since the day I met you in person.

You’re my baby girl. And you’re not a baby anymore. The grass has all grown in under the swing in the front yard. I’m getting older. Time just goes by so damn fast the older’ya get.

Just… Come hang out with your dad by the creek. I’m sure you could get some good photos.”

That conversation didn’t happen. There wasn’t any water in the creek. That conversation probably wouldn’t’ve even happend that way. I mean, it’s what I would’ve wanted to say, but I’m not very quick or as thoughtful on my feet. Although it’s what’s in my heart.

The conversation that we actually had was:

“Hey! Guess what I did today?!”

“Pooped? Cleaned your room? Went swimming?”

“Noooo.”

“Made sure no one stole your phone?”

“Noooo. I went running! I went up to Gorzycki and, well, the first two laps I forgot to record…”

And, as you’d probably imagine, the conversation quickly shifted. As did our creek.

Six days shy of my 13th runniversary. I ran up to Mt. Bonnell in Austin with Jenny and the crew from Rise & Run South Austin this morning when I hit 1 million feet of climbing. That’s like climbing Mt. Everest over 34 times.

In a day and age of apps, AI, services, and whatever the hell else people throw money at to make their lives “easier” and “more efficient” and “informed” I’ll be damned if I don’t have three weather apps on my phone and each one has a different story about the current temperature and forecast. I rarely use weather apps anymore. Fool me once, shame on you…

I was doing a two-day overdue cleaning of the kitchen sink and stove area this evening and, while I was on a tear, I thought I might go ahead and clean out the French press. I was about to fill it with water, spin the contents into a vortex, and take the vessel outside to throw its contents out into the yard. I do this exercise daily, execpt it’s always very early in the morning, when I’m waiting for the water to boil so I can make my coffee. Used coffee ground are good for the lawn. I’ve been doing this for years. It’s part of my daily ritual.

I didn’t take the coffee grounds out this evening because it’s a breach of my ritual and thus impedes my really, really good weather app, which is me walking outside, into the fresh air in the morning to experience, first hand, what the weather is like. Granted, it doesn’t really matter in the Summer in Texas because it’s hot and humid. It could be raining, but that usually doesn’t happen between June and September.

I like to know what the weather, specifically the temperature, is like outside because I run in the mornings and I need to know how to dress. Again, in the Summer it doesn’t really matter. During the Summer it’s shorts and shoes. Sometimes a shirt. In the Winter it depends. It can get really cold here. And it can be bone-chillingly humid. If I’m going out for a jog or a slow long run, I’ll need to bundle up more. Sometimes I need gloves and a hat. Sometimes I don’t. I don’t know unless I go outside and check the weather before I lace up and head out. I’m not relying on an app or a weather service.

I don’t know why I wrote all this. I guess it’s to say that when I need to know what the weather’s doing, I go outside, into the weather. And my lush St. Augustine yard and earthworms like coffee grounds and the nitrogen and phosphorus it provides.

The coffee grounds from early this morning are still in there in the press. I’ll fill it halfway with water and swirl it around tomorrow morning, just like I always do. It’ll be hot and humid at 4-something a.m. tomorrow. I know it. But I’ll still verify it. It’s what I do.

It’s almost July and I’m thinking about Christmas. I just had a nice thought. I remember when I was a tween or a young teen, my parents and I had been living in Cat Spring for a few years. I think it was Christmastime and both of my older sisters had come to stay with us. We lived in a big 3-bedroom house. My parents had their room. I had mine. And there was the guest room, next to mine. My sisters shared the guest room. I think we all went to bed around the same time that night, which I guess might’ve been Christmas Eve. And it was probably late because we were all almost 40 years younger back then. And dad was still alive. Man.

I remember lying in my bed with my door closed and hearing my sisters chatting and giggling and banging around in the bathroom and unpacking bags and suitcases. This carries on for a bit, but begins to quiet down. I guess they’re brushing teeth and turning out lights. Now I think it’s quiet enough to where I can close my eyes and fall asleep.

Then I guess they both get into bed and the chatting and giggling start again. There are also many moments of roaring laughter.

I’d think that 11 or 12 year-old me might be inclined to become angry and frustrated with the chatter from my sisters in the room over. I didn’t. I closed my eyes and smiled and reveled in it. It was the sound of laughter from the rooms of children on Christmas Eve. I was actually the only child in the house. My sisters were already adults, living on their own, living adult lives. But we were and are always children of the family. And we were all there together for Christmas. The family was happy. There was always laughter.

I never wrote it on a to-do list. But it’s been stored away, in the back of my mind for a decade. Maybe two.

The lion head door knocker conveyed with the house when we bought it in 2004. If memory serves, the knocker was fully functional when we took ownership, and for some years thereafter. Elise might remember. I haven’t asked her yet.

Again, if memory serves, he served as our door guardian for years sans the knocker ring gripped in his jaw. So, some years ago, I bent a piece of solid steel tubing in as close to a circle as I could get it. My temporary knocker design satisfied the form, but not the function. And he hung there for more years with his “functioning aesthetic.”

I could never bring myself to get rid of the lion. He’s unique. He came with the very first house we bought; it’s the same house we live in right now. He’s seen a million faces come and go through that front door. He remembers them all so I don’t have to. I can’t get rid of him. I look at him and I smile because I know he has seen those million faces come and go through that front door.

I’ve owed him a strong and sturdy striker.

I’ll defer to Elise on motif. For now, I’ve brought him back to fuction over form.

“Is that normal?”

“…”

“…”

“Oh! Do you mean my heart rate?”

“Yes.”

“…”

“I’m a runner.”

At this point the nurse anesthetist has started to push the plunger on the large cc syringe containing the milky white Propofol into my IV.

“Do you have any races coming up?”

“Nothing on the calendar but I ran the Boston Marathon a few weeks ago.”

“That’s fantastic. How did you do? What was your time?”

“Two fifty five”

Those were the last words that came out of my mouth. I’d already lined up my questions for her in my head because it sounded like she might’ve been a runner and we could’ve had ourselves a little conversation before it was lights out for yours truly. But it was already lights out for yours truly.

That’s the summary of my first colonoscopy experience.

Apparantly, aside from me being a lightweight anasthesia partier, everything went great. Clean colonoscopy. No abnormalities. No polyps. And I don’t have to get another colonoscopy for 10 years. And that’s a good thing because the “prep” for a colonoscopy is a shitty experience. Pun intended.

Today’s a hard day. It’s difficult. It’s bittersweet.

Elise and Maly just left Charleston West Virginia.

Maly has wanted to come home for almost a year now. Maybe more. Maybe less. You’d have to ask her. We left on August 13, 2024 to move her up to Charleston for college.

She made it two years, but after spending the better part of that second year injured, she decided to call it an end to her college lacrosse career at the University of Charleston. And with that decision, she decided that she wants to be closer to home. As of right now we don’t know what the plan is. She gets the summer to figure out the rest of her life.

On one hand it’s nice and exciting that she’s coming home and she’ll no longer be 1,300 miles away. On the other hand it’s sad because there’s been a change in course and there’s uncertainty and we won’t have child who lives 1,300 miles away in West Virginia.

I really like West Virginia. Probably like most, it wasn’t much on my radar of places to visit. When we learned that Maly was being recruited by a coach in West Virginia I sort of snickered and turned my nose up at the idea. I’m glad she went.

I’m partial to the thought that Maly currently had “negative” memories and associations with living so far away for 2 years. I think when she looks back at her time there it’ll be met with fond memories and friendships and the hard lessons in adulting. The room’s always dark when you’re in it.

Elise flew out to Charleston on Wednesday evening to help Maly get all packed up and moved out. The girls had their conference championship semifinals game against Dominican yesterday afternoon. They lost 15-13. The UC Women’s Lacrosse team is done this year. They’re driving Maly’s car home. They’re taking a longer route. Elise wants to drive through Alabama and Mississippi. They should be home tomorrow.

I’m going to miss charleston and I’m sad that I didn’t really get to see it or say goodbye one last time. We were up there for Easter, and I kind of knew that might be my last time there, but I was also holding out hope that Maly might have a change of heart and decide to ride it out for a couple more years to finish her degree.

I remember when Elise and Maly flew out there for a recruits trip. Maly already had an offer. She and Elise were both excited about Charleston. I was excited and scared that all of that reality was crashing down on me.

Now it’s crashing down on me again. The only constant is change, so they say. And, I guess since I’m using time-tested adages, I’ve really learned in my recent years that life really is about the journey and not the destination. I guess it just takes a fair number of destinations and their respective journeys.

Fourteen years ago today I became your dad. Fourteen years ago today you became my daughter.

This morning your scored the first goal in the lacrosse game that y’all won 12-4. You also had an amazing 4th quarter defensive blocked pass.

Sometimes I think you’re too quiet and subdued. But then I realized that that’s what I love about you. You remind me of me.

And you’re not too quiet and subdued. You’re affectionate and reserved and discerning. Those few to whom you get close are fortunate.

You are beautiful, inside and out.

I am proud of you and I love you beyond measure.

Happy Birthday Mara.