The Hoop and the Tree

Grounded again. The wisdom of his father: grow tall like the tree, but never forget the circle—the hoop—your roots, your people.

"The Tree, the Hoop, and Me"

So there I was, standing under this ridiculously tall oak tree that looked like it had been around since dinosaurs threw tea parties. I was holding my trusty hula hoop, which I hadn’t used since last summer when I got it stuck on the dog. Again.

Now, my dad, who thinks he’s some kind of backyard philosopher, walks up and says, “Son, look at that tree—it’s you.”

Great. I’m a tree now.

“You’re reaching for the sky, chasing dreams,” he continued, “but don’t forget your hoop.”

Of course, because nothing says “life wisdom” like a plastic circle you can spin around your waist.

But then it kinda hit me. Not the hoop—though that has happened—but what he meant. I’d been running around trying to be the best at everything: soccer, spelling bees, learning the ukulele (don’t ask). I was stretching myself so thin you could use me as window cleaner. And I wasn’t spending time with my family or friends. I forgot my roots.

So I asked Dad, “Why the hoop, though?”

He said, “Because the hoop is your circle—your people. They keep you balanced.”

Huh. Deep for a guy who still calls every video game “Nintendo.”

From then on, I tried something new. I still reached for the sky, but I kept my feet on the ground. I called Grandma more. I helped my little sister build her ant farm empire. I even played Monopoly with my cousin Jake without flipping the board (mostly).

And guess what? Life got better. Not perfect—Jake still cheats—but better.

So here’s the big lesson, and it’s easy to remember:

“Grow tall like a tree, but never drop your hoop.”

Yeah, I still think it sounds a bit kooky. But sometimes, kooky works.