Fernacher

08/26/2026

I’ve been thinking about the people who have helped me through this transition, and I need to say something about my friend.

Long before we ever decided to close fernaCHer, Hazel started helping me one day a week at the store simply because she loved being there. She helped with special events, made food, greeted people, served drinks, helped customers—whatever needed to be done. Nothing was ever above her, and she never expected anything in return. She never asked for anything. Never hinted. I’ve watched her work in ridiculous heat without complaining, usually asking, “What’s next?” or “What else needs to be done?”

And when I tried to pay her, she refused.

When we decided to close, Hazel kept asking if I needed help. Of course, I kept telling her I was fine and had it handled. Eventually, she stopped asking.

“When are you going to be there?”

She told me to let her know, she’d tell me her schedule, and she’d be there. And she was.

Closing fernaCHer has been harder emotionally than I expected. There were days when that increasingly empty store felt pretty lonely. Having Hazel there kept me focused, kept me moving and, honestly, just made those days a little easier. One day while the movers were there, I was overwhelmed. Everyone needed answers, decisions and direction. I was pushing myself to keep everything moving while also trying pretty hard to hold myself together. Hazel saw it before I ever said anything. She stepped in, started giving direction and kept things moving. No big conversation. No need for me to ask. She just recognized what needed to happen and did it.

That’s Hazel.

The funny thing is, Hazel and I don’t always see eye to eye ideologically—and we probably never will. But I’ve also been reminded through all of this that friendship doesn’t require agreeing about everything.
Dependability, kindness and loyalty aren’t ideological. They’re demonstrated. They’re showing up when it’s hot. They’re asking what’s next. They’re noticing when your friend is overwhelmed and stepping in. They’re helping simply because someone you care about could use another set of hands.

And expecting absolutely nothing in return.

That’s the kind of friend Hazel is.

fernaCHer may be closing, but thankfully Hazel isn’t going anywhere.

And I’m pretty damn glad to have her in my corner. ❤️

08/20/2026

I’ve written this goodbye more times than I can count.

Friday, the last things come out of fernaCHer and we officially say goodbye to the brick-and-mortar version of something that started as an idea and became so much more.

I don’t feel like I failed. I feel an enormous sense of accomplishment—and, if I’m being truthful, I’m mourning a little too.

The last four years have been a trip in becoming. I learned how much fear had disguised itself as self-doubt and inadequacy, and I learned what could happen when I stepped out and did it anyway.

I built things that once existed only in my head. I became comfortable calling myself an entrepreneur. I learned lessons about business—and myself—that I could never have learned in a classroom.

And eventually I learned another lesson: knowing when the cost of continuing has become too high.

I’m incredibly grateful to everyone who was part of fernaCHer, but especially to my husband, William. You loved me enough to risk the security and stability that mean so much to you so I could find out what I was capable of. I will never forget that. Thank you. I love you dearly.

I don’t know what fernaCHer becomes next, but I know what will remain.

Community will be at its center. Respect will always be present. Love will remain its heartbeat.

Because there will always be a place at the table for everyone.

Thank you, fernaCHer. 💙

08/17/2026

I realize this mouth may cost me some downgrades but I don’t give a F*k because I know at the end of the day o stood my neighbor. I guess I’ll just take the double wide with polyester curtains and a redwood deck.

08/17/2026

As I step into Leo month, I’ve been thinking about what it means to be a Leo.

Big emotions. Big statements. Big convictions. And, at least for me, about 95% follow-through. 😂

But every lion needs its counterpart: the lamb.

Not weakness. Not silence. Humility.

There has to be a part of us that remains open enough to admit we don’t know everything. A little innocence. A little teachability. The willingness to experience someone else’s reality before deciding we understand it.

That, to me, is part of the foundation of goodness—and certainly of humanitarianism.

I recently watched a video of a local council member actually making the trip people experiencing homelessness have to make every day to get from the shelter to a cooling center.

She didn’t just talk about it.

She did it.

And unless I’ve missed someone, she is the only local elected official I’ve seen do that. Not the other council members. Not the mayor.

That matters to me.

And some of my progressive and Democratic friends may not like this part:

We have to be willing to reconsider people.

Humanitarianism without humility can become ego very quickly.

“I know what these people need” is ego.

“Show me what you experience” is humility.

The lion gives us the courage to make the big statement.

The lamb gives us enough humility to listen, learn, and change it.

And character?

Character is what we actually do afterward.

Humility over ego. Humanity over politics.

Mayor Lily Wu
Council Member Joseph Shepard — District 1
Council Member Becky Tuttle — District 2
Council Member Mike Hoheisel — District 3
Council Member Dalton Glasscock — District 4
Council Member J.V. Johnston — District 5
Council Member Maggie Ballard — District 6



:::

08/10/2026

As a gay man, I’ve had to wrestle with something painful over the last few years: when does political or religious loyalty become more important than the human beings affected by it?

My husband and I have stepped away from friendships because of this—not simply because someone voted differently. I can disagree about taxes, budgets, immigration policy, or the role of government and still share a table with you. But human dignity becomes much harder for me to treat as just another political disagreement.

The evidence matters. Anti-LGBTQ+ hostility didn’t begin with this administration, and it would be dishonest to claim that it did. But GLAAD documented 1,042 anti-LGBTQ+ incidents in 2025, up from 984 in 2024. More than half of these incidents disproportionately targeted transgender, nonbinary, and gender-nonconforming people.

I don’t believe everyone who supports this administration hates LGBTQ+ people. I know people are complicated, and their reasons for voting are complicated. But I do believe we have a responsibility to examine what the institutions we support are doing to other human beings.

That’s also where I struggle with institutional Christianity. When loyalty to a church, political party, tradition, or ideology requires us to look away from the suffering of another person, perhaps the question isn’t whether we’ve defended the institution well enough.

Perhaps the question is whether we’ve loved our neighbor well enough.

08/05/2026

As we sit in our leather-wrapped thrones, watching through our windows as neighbors are arrested or killed because they dared to stand for something, we continue to sip our coffee and read the morning paper.

As gay people, we sit beneath the pergolas attached to our beautifully restored mid-century homes while failing to hear the defamation directed at our transgender brothers and sisters.

As we gather in pristine sanctuaries—buildings we’ve willingly given thousands of dollars to construct—we too often fail to hear those on the streets simply begging for help.

As I sit in my own mid-century home on an oak-lined street, I can’t help but wonder why so many of us don’t become involved until injustice affects someone we know personally. It is a sobering realization that empathy so often waits for proximity—that for many hearts, suffering must first arrive at their own doorstep before it becomes real.

I believe our nation was founded on the idea that our neighbor mattered. It was built on communities that celebrated one another’s successes and carried one another through hardship. Somewhere along the way—perhaps in our pursuit of comfort, convenience, or the promise of giving the next generation an easier life—we discarded something essential.

As I write this, I don’t feel surrounded by community. Too often, support feels transactional, offered only when there’s something to gain in return.

That reality exhausts me.

Our relentless pursuit of more—more success, more wealth, more status—has too often come at the expense of one another. Families have become fragmented. Friendships have become conditional. Honest conversations have become rare because vulnerability has become something to fear instead of something to honor.

If we’re ever going to move beyond the bitterness and division of these past years, it won’t happen through louder arguments or sharper political victories. It will happen through two things: community and vulnerability.

Every side has made mistakes. Every city leader has fallen short at times. Progressive leaders have made mistakes. Conservative leaders have made mistakes. Every movement, every institution, every one of us has something we wish we had done differently.

At some point, someone has to be willing to swallow their pride and simply say, “I was wrong. I made a mistake. Now how do we move forward together?”

Because the question isn’t how I win.

The question is how we heal.

Not as isolated individuals.

But as a community.

As a society.

As neighbors.

07/30/2026

Sometimes the best thing you can do is simply step away for a couple of days.

07/17/2026

To everyone who joined us for our Founders Circle event tonight… thank you.

Your support has meant more than you know. What we’ve built together has always been about more than furniture—it has been about community, conversation, and creating homes filled with intention.

Watching these pieces begin their next chapter has been bittersweet, but knowing they’ll continue to be loved makes it a little easier.

Tomorrow, our public sale continues with 40% OFF storewide. If you’ve had your eye on something, we’d love to help you find it before it’s gone.

We’ll see you tomorrow.

07/13/2026