Small Gestures, Big Memories
the albert effect
I just returned from a jam-packed 5-day trip to New York. Lots of exciting things in the works, but today I wanted to quickly share a few powerful examples of hospitality—from friends.
My friend Albert lives in the Upper East Side. When I mentioned I'd be in town, he invited me to stay at his place. But it was more than just a stay…
Albert took an entire day off work to curate a perfect New York itinerary for my one "free" day:
Homemade espresso
Private tour of the iconic NY Yacht Club building
Lunch at the famous Four Seasons dining room in the Seagram Building
Biking through Central Park (the trees had just begun to bud)
Subway to Queens and walking tour of the charming Forest Hills neighborhood
Cultural pit stop in Brooklyn for my friend Coby's book launch
Late-night burger at a retro 70s diner called JG Mellon uptown
JG Mellons is a *gem*
The first (and only other) time I met Albert was last summer.
I was planning a road trip to Idaho and tweeted asking for recommendations of places to stay along the way. Albert happened to see this and invited me to visit Aspects, his new micro-resort project in Big Sky, MT.
He and his lovely wife Sarah flew out to meet us there, taking us to dinner and showing off the property—a wonderful stay and experience!
But the detail that stuck with me most?
A day before our arrival, Albert asked about our route. I mentioned we’d be passing through the Tetons.
A few hours later, he sent over a shared note. I opened it to find a stunningly detailed list of thoughtful recommendations of places to see, back roads to take, and spots to eat at. It was magical.
These recs are all still super solid in case you’re in the area!
We felt like locals instead of tourists, and I still remember several of those stops and recommend them to others frequently.
the common thread
Albert isn't the only one...
This trip, I got to spend time with my friend Nathan, who welcomed me to the East Village with a fantastic ramen dinner after I landed, and a perfect NY bagel the next morning.
Then there are my dear friends Kevin, Kelly, and Gidon, who hosted me two nights in their gorgeous 1743 Dutch home upstate. They cooked a beautiful dinner, took me to lunch with some local characters (a hilarious experience), and gave me a thoroughly enjoyable driving tour of the region filled with expert-level history and a stop at a legendary, off-the-radar antique shop.
And all of this makes me reflect back before this particular trip…
Last month, some other friends I met via writing online, Mauricio & Susan, invited me to speak at their Tulane University entrepreneurship class in New Orleans. They treated me to a fabulous cajun dinner at their secrete local spot, entertained me with stories, and put me up in their beautiful uptown home.
Or, there's Bruce, Ann and Jeff from Nordlys, who invited me up, bought a piano for me to play and had it set up when I got there (all because of an off-handed comment I made beforehand), then brought fresh farm ingredients over for a memorable dinner Jeff and I cooked and ate in MetalLark.
MetalLark at Nordlys—one of my all time favorite spaces
Or finally, Jay and his son Jack from the spectacular Los Poblanos Lavender farm hotel in Albuquerque. They welcomed us like royalty on our way through last year, treated us to one of the best dinners ever, and truly made us feel like family.
These are just a handful of stories. As I write, more and more flood my memory—too many to include.
The magic in each of these experiences is the same: someone chose to go beyond basic accommodation or companionship to create thoughtful, personalized moments based on genuine connection and attention to detail.
As Paul Graham wisely reminds us: "Do things that don't scale."
To each of you (you know who you are): thank you. Your generosity, intentionality, and care inspire me endlessly.
To all reading this: may these stories inspire you to create similar moments for others.
Let's go the extra mile, put our hearts into our hospitality, and show goodwill to a stranger—or a friend.
This, my friends, is what it's all about.
—Isaac