Anyone can record what happened. The story worth telling is what mattered, and who you are.
A portrait in the office says you were here. A name at the top of an estate plan says what you owned. Neither says what you were like in a room, what you did when things went badly, or why you cared about the things you cared about.
Those are the things a great-grandchild will want to know. They are in the stories, memories and small details that come back when someone takes the time to ask.
For twenty-five years, Niles Howard was a journalist and editor at Inc. and Money, profiling the founders and stewards of enduring enterprises. The work was never really about writing. It was about discernment: learning to hear the difference between what happened and what mattered, and finding the thread running quietly underneath the version everyone already knew.
He brings that same discipline to every engagement now, working privately with founders, executives, and families to shape not the résumé version of a life, but the true one. He comes, by his own account, from a long line of Southern storytellers, the kind who could turn a Sunday dinner into an epic requiring at least one disappearing cousin. He has never quite gotten over the habit of asking one question too many.