There’s a rare kind of person who leaves people better than they found them. Someone who listens fully, speaks truthfully, and carries a quiet strength that makes everyone around them feel a little more grounded.
That’s Jon Baker. My brother. My friend. One of my biggest inspirations.
This isn’t about professional accolades or polished LinkedIn highlights — though Jon’s earned more than his fair share. It’s about who he is when no one’s clapping. The way he shows up. The way he leads with heart. The way he never stops caring, even when it would be easier to just coast.
Jon has always been that way. Even as kids, there was something in him that just got it — how to read a room, how to comfort someone without words, how to stand tall without needing to stand above anyone. That quiet awareness, that deep empathy, it’s followed him into every chapter of his life.
In his work at Zions Bank, he brings strategy, insight, and steady leadership. But more than that, he brings humanity. He knows every spreadsheet has a story behind it. Every client represents a community. Every decision has a ripple effect. And he doesn’t take that lightly.
Outside of the office, he’s a coach, a speaker, and a person who lives his message. He talks to people about purpose, clarity, leadership — and he lives it just as clearly in his own day-to-day. Jon doesn’t ask people to be better and then walk away. He gets in the mess with them. He’s the guy who listens longer, leans in closer, and lifts others up with both hands.
And me? I get to call him my little brother.
What I admire most is how he’s stayed true to himself. In a world that rewards performance, Jon stays anchored in presence. He’s not chasing attention. He’s building something far more lasting — trust, meaning, connection. And he’s doing it one relationship at a time.
I’ve learned more from him than I’ll probably ever admit out loud. (At least not when he's in the room.) But I’ll say this here: Jon, your life makes people better. Your work makes people believe again — in themselves, in leadership, in the good that’s still possible.
And yes, even with all this growth and greatness, you’re still my brother. Which means some things will always be true: There will forever be spoons to pick up in the yard. There will always be a piece of furniture that needs moving right before chaos breaks out. And once in a while, I just might leave a little surprise in your cereal bowl. That’s the deal.
Love you, Jon. Keep being who you are. The world’s better because you’re in it.