As we are ringing in the new year, I have been thinking about a quote by Mark Twain that my dad repeated: “When I was a boy of 14, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be 21, I was astonished at how much the old man had learned in seven years.”

This quote perfectly captures the essence of who Dad was. The lessons he passed on to us weren’t always appreciated in the moment, but they proved invaluable over time.

One of these lessons is that Dad didn’t believe in doing anything halfway. He made sure we understood this from an early age. The house had to be spotless when he came home from work – and I mean perfect. Nothing out of place. The sound of his diesel VW Rabbit coming up the drive still haunts me today because I knew if the house wasn’t ready, there would be consequences.

My brother Rick was an early adopter of this lesson. One day, Dad got home early, and we could hear that deep pulsating sound of the small diesel engine coming up the freeway. Like a shot clock expiring, we had to act quickly. Rick made the brilliant tactical decision that we were not going to get the dishes done before Dad arrived. So he grabbed the dirty dishes in the sink, ran to the edge of our porch, and started hurling them as far as he could into the ravine below. We all contributed with our best Olympic dish toss. In just seconds, we had disposed of nearly all of our dishes.

This showed both commitment and resourcefulness. Unfortunately, that’s not how our father saw it. When Dad looked in the cupboard and asked where his coffee cup was, I was left with no choice but to respond with the truth: “What coffee cup?” We all suffered the consequences of that decision, but I can absolutely affirm that moment became legend in our commitment to not doing anything halfway. To this day, Dad loved telling that story to everyone he met.

That principle of full commitment has become central to how I lead at Abacus. When we take on a client relationship, we don’t do it halfway. We don’t offer cookie-cutter solutions or check boxes on a compliance form. We dig deep into understanding what that family actually needs, what keeps them up at night, what legacy they want to build. It means sometimes having difficult conversations about whether their current approach is truly serving their long-term goals. It means being willing to challenge conventional wisdom when we see a better path forward. Just as my father expected excellence in the simple task of maintaining a household, I expect our team to approach every client engagement with that same level of thoroughness and care.

This philosophy also shapes how I think about innovation in our industry. The financial services world is filled with firms that dabble in new ideas or pay lip service to comprehensive planning while really just pushing products. That halfway approach doesn’t interest me. When we commit to something like integrating longevity planning into our wealth management practice, we go all in. We study the research, we build the expertise, we create the frameworks that actually serve people’s extended lifespans. Dad’s lesson taught me that shortcuts and half-measures ultimately cost more than doing things right the first time. Whether it’s a clean kitchen or a financial strategy designed to last decades, the principle remains the same: commit fully or don’t start at all.