> ## Content Index > Fetch the complete content index at: https://www.mikebakerhq.com/llms.txt > Use this file to discover other available public pages before exploring further. # An Ordinary Thursday - URL: https://www.mikebakerhq.com/writing/an-ordinary-thursday/ - Published: 2026-09-25T05:10:49.000Z - Updated: 2026-09-25T05:10:49.000Z - Description: Up all night talking with Jake, a nap I’ll never live down, and Jon Bellion with a full orchestra at the Hollywood Bowl. Just an ordinary Thursday I’ll never forget. - Author: Mike Baker - Tags: Human First, #hero-uncropped I was up all night talking with Jake and his longtime friend Max about their plans for the future. We had a 3:00 a.m. departure from Coeur d’Alene and a 5:00 a.m. boarding in Spokane, but I was happy to keep talking. Apparently, sleep isn’t a real thing when your son and his friend are telling you about the lives they want to build. I love getting that time with them. You spend years helping your kids figure things out, and then they’re adults with ideas and plans of their own. There’s so much you still get to learn about them if you’re willing to listen. Hearing what Jake and Max are thinking about, and getting to be part of that conversation, was a pretty good way to spend the hours before we left. Now we’re at the Hollywood Bowl with Kellie, our nieces, and Jake and his friends for the last show of Jon Bellion’s Father Figure tour. Sam made the trip with us, but she’s too sick to be at the concert. I wish she felt well enough to be here. Cameron is across the sea, and I’m missing him, too. We have a beautiful group of people together tonight, with two I’d love to have beside us. We got here early, and I might have taken a quick nap. Kellie has pictures, so my position on sleep has been challenged by photographic evidence. I’m sure that picture will receive more attention than anything else I have to share about the trip. After almost twenty-seven years of marriage, I understand that explaining myself will only make it more enjoyable for her. Then the concert started, with a full orchestra playing alongside Jon and thousands of people singing along. One of the coolest parts has been watching him take it in. He seems blown away by hearing his own music performed this way. He knows these songs better than anyone, and he still gets to experience something new in them tonight. Imagine what that must feel like. Something you wrote has become part of other people’s lives. They’ve listened enough to know the words, and now they’re here singing them back to you while an orchestra plays your music. I wonder how much of that you’re able to absorb while you’re still in the middle of performing it. The musicians around him are taking these songs to another level. Each person brings their own skill and years of work, and together they’re creating something that requires all of them. Jon’s talent is obvious, and so is what this team adds to it. I love watching him appreciate the people helping him hear new possibilities in his own songs. What a way to finish the tour. His boys are in the audience tonight, too. They get to see their dad up there, hearing all these people sing music their family helped inspire. I wonder what they’ll remember about this evening when they’re older. For Jon, knowing they’re here must make an already incredible night feel deeply personal. “WHY” gets to me, especially the line, “I could move mountains with the worry I’ve done.” I understand that as a dad. You want your children to have full lives and the confidence to go discover who they are. You’re proud when they do, even as you’re trying to get comfortable with how much of their lives will happen beyond your reach. The part about waiting until you have a son makes me think about how becoming a parent changes your understanding of your own parents. You start to understand why they wanted the phone call. Why they had another question after you’d already assured them everything was fine. Loving your kids gives you a different appreciation for how much someone once worried about you. After spending the night talking with Jake and Max about the future, that song feels especially close. I want to hear their plans and see what they do with them. I’m also their dad and longtime friend’s dad, listening with all the affection and concern that come with knowing someone as they grow up. I hope they keep letting me be part of those conversations. With Cameron, I’m proud of the life he’s pursuing so far away. I want him to have those experiences, and I want to hear about them. There are nights like this when I’d love to have him close enough to join us. Being happy for him and missing him happen together. And Sam is nearby, feeling too sick to be here. Part of my attention has stayed with her all evening. I wish I could make her feel better. Knowing your daughter is having a rough night stays with you, even when you’re somewhere beautiful, enjoying something you’ve looked forward to. So there’s Jon, singing about the vulnerability of loving his children, with his boys in the audience. I’m listening with all three of mine on my mind. The question in “WHY” makes sense to me. Loving someone this much means their pain matters to you in ways you don’t get to switch off. I wonder how many other people in this crowd are thinking about someone they love as they sing. That’s part of what makes being here so special. We all have our own connection to these songs. You have a memory attached to one, or a line says something you’ve had trouble explaining. Then you hear thousands of people singing it together, each with a reason for loving it that you’ll never know. For a few minutes, you get to share something personal with strangers. With Kellie beside me, “Conversations with My Wife” feels especially personal. “Me and you inside real life” stays with me because we have so much life between us now. We’ve spent almost twenty-seven years married, raising our family and figuring things out together. Most of that happened during ordinary days, doing whatever needed to be done, without stopping to think about how we’d remember it later. I love that we still get to have evenings like this. Our kids are growing into their own lives, and we’re finding new ways to spend time with them. Tonight, we get to enjoy their music and the people they care about. Kellie is beside me, sharing the same love for these kids and the same wish that everyone could be here. Hearing that song with her makes me grateful for everything we’ve lived together and for the experiences we still get to have. Jon, thank you for this music and an amazing night. Watching you hear your songs with these musicians has been a pleasure. The parts about being a husband and a dad feel close to my own life tonight, and I’m grateful you’ve put them into something we get to experience together. “HOROSCOPE” is playing as I leave to go hang with Sam. I wish she could have had this evening with us, but I’m glad I get to go be with her now. I don’t have an answer that will make her feel better. I have some time to spend with my daughter, and that’s where I want to be. I’m walking out with tears in my eyes, thinking about how fucking amazing this life is. Tonight started with my son telling me about his future. I got to hear this music with my wife and people we love, and now I’m going to spend time with our daughter. Cameron is far away, but he’s been part of what I’m feeling all evening, too. I love these people so much, and tonight I’m feeling all of it. We made the plans and got on the plane, and this is what the day gave us. I’m leaving with music still playing and more gratitude than I know how to put into words. Just an ordinary Thursday that I’ll never forget, and one I could have so easily missed.