I went to Indiana to lead a gardening workshop. I came home thinking about inheritance.
Spending time with Gabby Lyons and the Heritage family office gave me a deeper appreciation for the care involved in helping the next generation understand a family business. There is history to learn, responsibility to grow into, and a future to prepare for.
It left me with a question: We spend considerable time planning the money we hope to leave behind. How much thought do we give to the things we hope our families will keep doing?
Growing things. Cooking together. Caring for others. Making room at the table.
When I think about generational wealth beyond money, these are some of the things I hope we remember to pass down.
The Lessons That Become Part of Us
Growing up in Alaska, I remember when our family got our Encyclopedia Britannica sets—the red children’s edition and the brown adult edition. We felt lucky to have all that knowledge right there in our den.
When we were curious about something, Dad would say, “Go look it up.”
Those words stayed with me. He was giving us a way to respond to curiosity: take the next step, seek an answer, discover something.
I still carry that invitation.
It makes me wonder how many of our everyday habits began with someone we loved. The way we prepare a meal. Our instinct to check on a neighbor. The questions we ask. Our willingness to try something unfamiliar.
We learn so much by being alongside one another. Someone invites us into what they are doing, gives us a small job, and lets us practice. Over time, those moments become things we know how to do—and sometimes, things we love.
Passing Down a Love of Gardening
Gardening is one of my favorite ways to share that kind of knowledge.
When we garden with someone, we teach them to notice. Check the soil before watering. Look beneath the leaves. Pay attention to the weather. Watch for what has changed since yesterday.
We also give them a chance to experience the connection between care and growth.
There is patience in waiting for a seed to emerge. There is responsibility in remembering to water. There is problem-solving when a plant struggles, and generosity when there is something to harvest and share.
In my own early mornings, checking on plants has become a familiar rhythm. Sometimes Newman comes outside with me while I water or harvest lemon balm. These are small moments, but they are moments I value enough to repeat.
That is often how a tradition begins. We find meaning in something, make room for it, and invite someone else to join us.
You do not need generations of gardening experience to begin. You can be the person who starts.
Cooking Keeps More Than Recipes Alive
Cooking offers another beautiful way to pass things down.
A family recipe carries memories of the people who made it and the occasions that brought everyone together. Sometimes the most important details never make it onto the recipe card: how the dough should feel, which bowl to use, or who always asked for a second helping.
When we cook together, we make space for those stories.
We also share useful skills: how to nourish ourselves, work with what we have, and turn a few ingredients into something worth gathering around.
Growing herbs makes that connection especially tangible. Someone picks the rosemary. Someone chops it. Someone remembers who first taught them to add it to the potatoes.
A little of the garden becomes part of the meal, and a little of our history comes with it.
The next generation may change the recipe. I hope they do. There is something lovely about giving them a starting point and watching them make it their own.
Caring Is Something We Practice Together
I hope we are intentional about passing down the practice of caring for others.
Children notice when we call someone who is lonely. They see us ask a neighbor what they need. They watch how we welcome people, how we listen, and whether we follow through when we promise to help.
We can invite them into those moments.
Let them help make the meal we are delivering. Ask them to choose a plant for someone who needs encouragement. Include them when we write the note. Let them see that care takes attention, time, and sometimes a change of plans.
Through practice, caring becomes something they know how to offer.
We cannot anticipate every situation the people we love will face. But we can give them experiences to draw from when someone needs them.
What Will We Carry into an AI World?
As AI changes how we work and learn, I find myself thinking more about the skills and experiences we want the next generation to carry with them.
I want them to be curious and capable with new technology. I also want them to know the pleasure of making something with their hands, the responsibility of tending something living, and the comfort of sitting down to a meal with people they love.
I want them to recognize when someone needs kindness and feel confident offering it.
And I hope they learn to appreciate nature closely enough to notice its gifts: the scent of an herb, the first sign of a bloom, the satisfaction of harvesting something they helped grow.
These are experiences we can share now, in the course of an ordinary day.
We can plant something together. Cook something together. Tell the story behind a recipe. Share a harvest. Bring someone dinner.
Building Generational Wealth Beyond Money
My time in Indiana reminded me that preparing the next generation requires attention. We have to make room for questions, share what experience has taught us, and give others opportunities to take part.
That is true in a family business. It is true in a kitchen and a garden, too.
Financial resources can create meaningful opportunities. Alongside that planning, we can be thoughtful about the habits, knowledge, and values we share while we are here.
We can ask ourselves: What do I hope the people I love will carry forward because we spent time together?
A love of growing things is on my list. So is curiosity. The habit of noticing who needs care. And the willingness to make room for another person at the table.