On Showing Up: A Christmas Podcast Interview and What Matters

Today is Christmas.

I woke up, looked at my calendar, and noticed someone had booked a podcast interview. My first thought was that it had to be a mistake. I mean—Christmas Day? I assumed it was an error, and I was ready to send a quick email to help them reschedule.

So I opened the calendar invite and started reading more closely.

This interview was part of our American Film Market series, where I interview filmmakers and creatives who attended the American Film Market in Century City, California. The series has been very successful. I’ve interviewed filmmakers from all over the world. Incredible stories. Incredible people.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pzz7CdnIA10

Listen to the expanded monologue by Adam Torres with additional content.

As I was reading through the Calendly intake form, I noticed something at the bottom. There’s a small section that asks, “Anything else we should know?”

The gentleman who booked the interview wrote that his wife had passed away seven months ago today.

That stopped me.

It stopped me for a few reasons.

First, I knew immediately that this interview had been intentionally scheduled for December 25th. This wasn’t an accident.

Second, I knew there was absolutely no chance I was going to reschedule on him.

We did the interview, and it went great.

He talked about his upcoming film projects. He talked about plans for the future. He shared his story. He even talked about how he had been reluctantly dragged into the film business by his wife—who is now deceased.

And afterward, I found myself thinking about something bigger.

About all the people, especially during the holidays, who want a sense of connection. People who want to be heard. People who just want to talk.

That reflection took me back to my early twenties.

Back then, I always worked on holidays. Christmas Eve. Christmas night. Thanksgiving. New Year’s Eve. New Year’s Day. It didn’t matter. I volunteered every time.

Part of it was practical—I wanted to make some money. I wasn’t doing it for free.

But another part of it was simple: I wanted the people with families and kids to be able to be home.

So if you called into Charles Schwab back in the day—on Christmas, on Thanksgiving, on New Year’s—I might have been the one answering the phone.

And here’s what surprised me.

People still called. A lot of people.

Some were lonely.

Some were extremely wealthy.

Some had lived very long lives.

And many of them had outlived their friends. Some had lost spouses. Some had lost children. Some were living in incredible penthouse apartments overlooking Fifth Avenue in New York—places where money clearly wasn’t an issue.

Yet they called anyway.

Sometimes those calls lasted an hour. Sometimes longer. Sometimes they stretched late into the night. And during those conversations, they taught me things I didn’t fully understand at the time—but I understand now.

One thing was always clear: you can’t take it with you.

It sounds cliché. Maybe even obvious. But at that stage of life, money didn’t matter the way people think it does. What mattered was purpose. Connection. Waking up with a reason. Feeling useful. Feeling like you still had worth. Feeling like your time on this planet mattered.

That’s what stayed with me.

So when I think about that Christmas interview, I don’t pretend that I made some huge, life-changing difference for that gentleman. I don’t know that.

But I do know this:

He heard a friendly voice.

He had a moment of connection.

He had a space to talk about his wife, his work, and his future.

Maybe that 10 or 15 minutes gave him a brief reprieve during his first Christmas without her. Maybe it gave him a place to honor her, to speak about what she meant to him, and to remember why he keeps going.

As we head toward 2026, that’s what I find myself reflecting on.

How we show up for people.

How easy it is to underestimate the value we bring to someone else’s life.

How “inconvenient” moments are sometimes the ones that matter most.

I could have sent a quick email and rescheduled that interview.

I didn’t.

And that interview is what sparked me to launch - Inside My Mind. It’s what made me want to share these experiences more openly—so that maybe someone else reading this feels less alone, or pauses long enough to reflect on how they can show up for others.

If this speaks to you, then it did what it was meant to do.