The Concannon Brief
Abundance vs. Affordability
In a nation of extraordinary abundance, why do so many Americans feel they are falling behind?
When I was growing up in Queens, life was pretty simple.
I was a local kid making my way through school, spending time with friends, playing basketball, delivering newspapers, working on cars, attending concerts in the park, and wondering what would come next.
As graduation approached, our conversations began to change.
Less about sports.
Less about cars.
More about work.
More about the future.
My father had served as a New York City police officer before beginning a second career with Pan American World Airways. Aviation was in his blood. During his years with the NYPD, he flew helicopters. Before that, he spent years in the U.S. Air Corps.
My girlfriend’s - now my wife’s father was a New York City firefighter who would later retire as an FDNY Captain.
Public service wasn’t something we debated. It was simply part of the world around us.
Like most young people, we weren’t looking for shortcuts. We were looking for opportunities. We wanted to earn a living, build a future, and someday afford lives of our own.
Every week, I bought a copy of The Chief-Leader, the newspaper that listed New York City civil service examinations. I applied for every examination I thought I might qualify for. Many of my friends were doing exactly the same thing.
We took the examinations.
We trained for the physical tests.
We waited for the scores.
Some celebrated.
Others wondered what they could have done differently.
Then came the eligibility lists.
Sometimes your number moved.
Sometimes it didn’t.
"I have not failed. I've just found 10,000 ways that won't work."
Thomas Edison
Some people joked that you could die waiting for your list number to be called. It wasn’t entirely a joke.
None of us expected success overnight.
We understood something I would only fully appreciate years later.
Opportunity comes first.
Everything else must be earned.
That lesson stayed with me.
Years later, I found myself preparing for the NYPD Sergeant’s examination.
For months, I studied late into the night. My wife quietly brought meals into the room while I buried myself in laws, procedures, regulations, and departmental policies.
Thousands of questions.
Months of preparation.
One examination.
When the answer key was released, I believed I had passed.
Then everything changed.
The City implemented a quota, and suddenly I was told I had failed.
What followed became one of the defining experiences of my career.
I hired a constitutional attorney. Along with dozens of fellow officers, I helped organize a class-action lawsuit because we believed the promotional process should be based on merit and fairness. Eventually, I found myself sitting in the United States Supreme Court in Washington, D.C., while our case was argued. As I sat next to my attorney, the Justices wanted to ask me questions, and three of them did. It was an amazing experience. We wanted equal treatment under the U.S. Constitution. I also challenged the examination answer key in the New York State Supreme Court.
At the time, I thought I was fighting over an examination.
Looking back, I realize I was learning something much bigger.
Life unfolds in sequence.
One experience prepares us for the next.
The academy prepared me for patrol.
Patrol prepared me for leadership.
Leadership prepared me for the Mayor’s Office.
The Mayor’s Office prepared me for consulting.
Consulting prepared me for coaching.
Looking back, I don’t see a collection of jobs.
I see a lifetime of experiences.
Over the years, I’ve come to think of life as a gear.
Every meaningful experience cuts another tooth.
Some are shaped by success.
Others by disappointment.
Some by responsibility.
Others by sacrifice.
Each leaves its mark.
Slowly, almost unnoticed, the gear becomes stronger.
Not because time has passed.
Because experience has accumulated.
Experience is life’s laboratory.
It is where ideas meet reality.
It is where assumptions are tested.
It is where judgment is formed.
It is where wisdom begins.
Perhaps that is why two people can witness the same event and understand it differently.
They are looking through different laboratories of experience.
That brings me to abundance and affordability.
America remains one of the most productive and innovative societies in human history.
Our stores are full.
Our choices are almost limitless.
Opportunity still exists.
Yet one word dominates conversations across kitchen tables.
Affordability.
My wife and I worried about it too.
Where would we live?
Could we raise a family on our salaries?
Those concerns were real then, just as they are for many families today.
Housing costs matter.
Interest rates matter.
Taxes matter.
Economic growth matters.
Public policy matters.
But I have come to believe another part of the conversation deserves equal attention.
How do we think about the journey itself?
"Nothing worth having comes easy”
Theodore Roosevelt
Somewhere along the way, our culture became very good at celebrating outcomes.
We admire the successful business.
The beautiful home.
The promotion.
The comfortable retirement.
What we often overlook are the decades that made those achievements possible.
The preparation.
The setbacks.
The sacrifices.
The discipline.
The waiting.
We admire the summit.
We seldom admire the climb.
Every generation dreams.
Every generation faces obstacles.
Every generation must build its future.
“Don’t wish it were easier; wish you were better!”
Jim Rohm
The challenge is that experience cannot be inherited.
It must be lived.
Ideas begin the journey.
Life tests those ideas.
Experience reshapes them.
Reflection gives them meaning.
Wisdom changes the way we live.
Affordability will always involve economics.
It will always involve public policy.
Those debates matter.
But I believe the deeper question is this:
How do we help more people build lives of lasting value?
Not simply by increasing what they own.
But by increasing who they become.
A meaningful life is built through family.
Through citizenship.
Through work.
Through leadership.
One experience at a time.
One lesson at a time.
One turn of the gear at a time.
When I bought my first copy of The Chief-Leader, I thought I was looking for a job.
Looking back, I realize I was being offered something much greater.
An opportunity to begin.
Everything that followed—the successes, the disappointments, the lawsuits, the promotions, the leadership roles, the coaching, and now these essays—grew from that first opportunity.
Perhaps America’s greatest abundance is not simply the wealth it creates.
Perhaps it is the opportunity it offers ordinary people to build extraordinary lives through time, experience, and character.
Experience is life’s laboratory.
The rest of our lives is what we choose to learn from it.