Joe, I apologize for posting this letter publicly. I know you’re a private guy. But I don’t have your new address. Today marks two years since you left us and I have a lot of updates to share. But dude, I gotta confess, I was pretty angry at you for leaving the way you did. It kinda f****d me up. Losing you sent me into a depression that was difficult to overcome. Hell, I still can’t listen to Jimmy Eat World songs without getting overwhelmed with emotion. You’ve kinda ruined that band for me. And now, whenever I visit Detroit or Chicago, the experience feels somewhat lackluster. It's as if I'm perpetually on the outside, missing the rich, hidden layers of the city—those secret gems you once unveiled with your vast, encyclopedic knowledge of American urban greatness and history. Two months ago I sold my stake in our chain of restaurants and that meant I had to dig through and archive decades of emails. I must have read 400+ emails between us going back 20+ years. I was reminded of how your wit and charm always shined through even when writing emails. You were one of the best storytellers I’ve ever known. Sometimes I wish you were here to give me feedback on this silly newsletter I write. I often wonder: “What would Shores think of this? How would he tell this story?” Remember when we tried for 2 years to open a bar in Detroit? You kept telling me: “Detroit is gonna come back. It is. We are getting in early.” I was skeptical. But, Boy o boy, were you right. Detroit is booming. It’s hard to get a hotel room or a reservation on some weekends. You nailed that! But I’m not writing to complain about how you left us or reminisce about the amazing memories we had together. I’m writing you to say Thank You, Joe. No. That’s not right. Thanks Shores! Or maybe even better, “Thank you, Shorsey Pop Pop!” I’m not sure why I started calling you “Joe” only after you died. Grief does strange things to people. But seriously, Thank You Shores. Your passing marked a turning point in my life, a moment when the fragility of human existence became painfully clear. Yet, in the wake of sorrow, I discovered an unexpected gift: the capacity for change within myself. To shake my grief I embarked on my “Year Of The Opposite.” - Kinda like Costanza. I know you’ll get the reference. Basically, all the things that I did before, I tried to do the opposite. Remember how you used to urge me to travel more with you? Well, you were right. I’ve visited 50+ cities in the past 2 years. Remember my “SPORTS!” t-shirt that I wore mockingly. Now I Golf, Run, Pickleball, workout, and am willing to play any sport I’m invited to. You were right about sports too. Along the way, I even lost 60+ LBS! It was about time! I had really let myself go. I made a bunch of crazy changes: ran 7 miles backwards, a marathon, swam across a lake, beat the BW3’s blazin wing challenge, flew a plane briefly, did a ride along with the police, school board member, cold plunge addict, and a bunch of other crazy things. You should subscribe to my newsletter so I can keep you updated. (Hey, you know I’m a marketing guy! Always Be Closing!) But the biggest change you inspired in me was giving up alcohol. I always wondered why the booze didn’t get it’s hooks into me like it did you, I think I was just lucky. I’ve only had 35 occasions for celebratory drinks in the past 2 years. And honestly, the 35 times weren’t worth it. I may give it up for good. When I look back, I’m embarrassed to admit how many of our amazing nights together revolved around alcohol. I felt really guilty that the substance that brought us together was the same substance that extinguished your bright flame. I’m sorry buddy. Shores, you've shown me the interconnectedness of loss, growth, and gratitude in ways I never imagined. Your impact stretches far beyond the life you lived, shaping my path in both big and s