With Thanksgiving having passed, the holiday season has started. This list is not necessarily gifts i would buy for someone else. These are items i would not complain if someone bought them and covertly placed them under my tree. If the local mall Santa that smells like cheap bourbon or a maybe even a family member asks what you want this year, this list is a pretty good place to start.

I’ve never solved a good problem by staring at a screen. But I’ve untangled a dozen knots in my head while standing hip-deep in a cold river, the sun warming the back of my neck. And later, sitting by the fire, holding a glass that’s been aged in silence for ten long years, that same clarity returns. The bourbon isn't just a drink; it's a moment of deliberate slowing down. It’s a liquid reflection, a reward for a hard day or a quiet day well-spent.

Middle age can play tricks on a man. You start measuring yourself by what you haven’t done yet—houses you don’t own, goals left unfinished, youth that’s long gone. But a few hours on the water reminds you what truly counts: peace, purpose, and connection. Fishing teaches humility. You’re not in charge out there—the fish are . It reminds you that control is overrated and patience pays dividends far beyond the riverbank.

Green River Distilling Co. in Owensboro, Kentucky, is more than just a distillery; it's a testament to resilience. Its history is a...

The outdoorsman has always been a symbol—of grit, resourcefulness, and independence. But today, the idea of a “modern outdoorsman” looks a little different than the stereotype of buckskins and a rifle over the shoulder. For many of us, the modern outdoorsman is a fly rod in hand, waders strapped tight, and a glass of bourbon waiting back at the truck.

Some of the best pours are $30. Some taste like burned socks and cost $300. Hype is just noise. Your palate doesn’t care about status.

This is middle age: the age of mystery pains, early bedtimes, and the moment right before you bend over where you ask yourself a serious question… “Is it worth it?”

Let’s just get this out of the way: don’t fly fish. Seriously. Don’t. It’s a trap. It starts simple. Some quiet afternoon, you see a guy in waders standing midstream, false casting like he’s in a slow-motion cologne commercial. Maybe he’s got a graying beard and a look in his eye like he knows something you don’t. You think: That looks peaceful. That could be me.

Bourbon is more American than Apple Pie any day. Bourbon was crafted as a way to make the best of a bad situation. What they created has defined our nation.

It hit me then, with the force of a well-aged barrel stave: I have become a very specific type of man. It’s not a conscious decision, mind you. No one wakes up and says, "Today, I will embrace a life of stoicism, artisanal woodworking, and a diet consisting primarily of red meat." It just... happens. The evidence is mounting.

There’s a certain kind of quiet a man starts craving somewhere in middle age. Not just silence—but stillness

I drink bourbon because Bourbon doesn't care and neither do i.

If you are reading this, you probably fish. Guess what? no one cares!

A whiskey bottle is an important family heirloom and tradition.