The day I met Elliott Bisnow, I was dressed like an idiot.
(I’m confident this is not how he remembers it.)
Sky-painted blue leggings complete with clouds, fringe boots, and a grey multi-belt - a modern fanny pack I had purchased at a yoga festival so that I could carry around eight walkie-talkies while coordinating the technical aspects of six stages.
I call it my strap-on.
I have a very streamlined sense of fashion, and this was not it. My outfit that April afternoon was cobbled together with what I imagined other people might wear to a concert of their favorite band. Something flashy. Something bright. Something one might wear to Burning Man.
Right?
Left to my own devices, I would have selected a black turtle neck and leggings, because at a concert, I feel most at home in the shadows of the button pushers and the rail and the God Mic, but I did not have a role in this free afternoon concert at the close of the ski season, so I was Doing My Best to Play One. My favorite band, Magic Giant, was playing at the base of the ski mountain as a lure to keep ‘em skiing and invite ‘em to stick around to keep paying for more things. I had flown there from Colorado, not to ski, but to see the band. I rented a car and an Airbnb bedroom from an older woman named Susan who also drove Uber, and drove to the ski lift like a lunatic, sure I was **the only person** who had done such a thing.
I was early. Mostly because this wasn’t an actual concert, precisely, it was an ‘end of the day’ thing. And as someone who (still) has never skiied, I wasn’t quite sure when the day ended. Susan knew when people needed Ubers, and she thought 3pm would be a safe bet. So I arrived at 1pm to scope the joint.
I rode the gondola up and listened to the band sound check, and then wandered about the six shops that sell exclusively things related to skiing, and ended up in the cafe where the band was sitting before they returned to the stage. I said my sheepish hellos and hugged the band, and Austin introduced me to his father, the other bananapants human who had (quite understandably) flown from DC to Salt Lake to see his son perform.
We had a lovely afternoon, despite me being dressed rather like an alien. He didn’t seem to notice, and when his other son arrived, we were introduced.
That was it, kids. The day I met Elliott.
Next, we all hooted and hollered and I ruined my suede fringe boots by bouncing for two hours straight in 6” of snow, and it was the best day ever. I ran into my friend Scott, who was there to ski, and we (he) took a selfie, which is how I can be so certain of my dress.
Prior to reading his book, I recalled three things about Elliott:
He live(d/s) in Salt Lake
He is Important (aka powerful and or rich, which is to say, I was keenly aware of my weird and out-of-character dress)
He is Austin’s brother
A few weeks ago, I saw Austin post about his brother’s book on the socials, and naturally added it to the library list, which is what I do when nearly any book crosses my path. The title felt compelling on it’s own: Make No Small Plans.
Now that I’ve read it, and told you how it crossed my path, I’m here to tell you what I thought of it.
MAKE NO SMALL PLANS
I expected very few things from this book. I read the endorsements from various Notable People on the back as I walked home from the library, which included Ray Dalio, whose book Principes I have previously read. Mr. Dalio is 100% the epitome of an enneagram 8, and if you’re a student of the gram, you’ll enjoy reading how eight it is. It’s the eight-i-est eight book I have ever encountered.
The book tells the story of four Lost Boys whose paths collide as they accidentally/on purpose figure out how to leverage their enormous shared privilege to do something meaningful.
I wanted to dislike it, and I did not.
In fact, I found it mildly irresistible. Not so much that I read it by the light of my iPhone flashlight in the back of the truck camping, but enough that I chose it from the bevy of books pending on my nightstand and e-list and audible cue (and it was in the company of some great ones). In the middle of the Saturday, twice in a row, I chose it to spend hammock time with, for many hours each time.
These boys didn’t exactly have it rough, but they did figure some stuff out, and their bite-sized chapters of revelations, their affable nature, their shared quirkiness felt so relatable to me that I noticed myself smiling. At the book. Surely, they all have some sweet families who step in at various points to bail them out of certain failure, but rather than hubris, they leverage their commendable self-awareness and share the hilarity of their foibles, as well as nuggets of wisdom that detail their success.
This is a great book to pair with a rainy day - real or emotional - or a great one to pick up between chapters of something more emotional rigorous or challenging. It’s inspiring and attitude-shifting, and bigger than the ‘how to be and do man business’ books I’ve often read while trying to make something of my life/avoid my emotional pain/decipher the missing secret formula.
There is no secret formula for these fellows, but the journey is joyful and I’m glad to have read it.
If I had the opportunity to discuss this book in a book club, I’d ask you the following:
At what point in the book did these fellows win you over?
What bit of advice felt most resonant?
Whose nightstand would you like to slide this baby onto?
What story did you recount to others?
What would you ask the authors?
If I did have a chance to cross paths with the author(s) again, here are the questions I would ask them:
Which one lesson about doing business do you wish you could have learned earlier?
What did your 22 year old self know that you haven’t considered recently?
When you wrote this book, who did you **hope** would read it?
If you were to craft a story with your book as the middle, which book would you have people read before and after?
Now that it’s in print, which story do you wish you could go back and add?
Thanks for reading. This post contains affiliate links to the book on my Bookshop, and if you purchase it (or any) book via that link, I might possibly one day receive a negligible fee for introducing you.