A Note on World Parkinson’s Day – and the Bright Legacy Behind Daylight & Daisy

Today is World Parkinson’s Day—a day that carries deep meaning for me. Parkinson’s disease has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. My dad was diagnosed with early-onset Parkinson’s when I was young, and it continues to show up in my world in quiet, powerful ways every day.

But this isn’t a story about hardship.

It’s a story about light. About impact. About how one person can leave joy in their wake—and how that inspired the heartbeat of my business, Daylight & Daisy.

My dad, lovingly nicknamed Dancin’ Bear, was the kind of person who could fill a room with warmth. That nickname now lives on as a tattoo on my wrist—a daily reminder of his strength, his silliness, and his ability to make people feel seen. He had this incredible balance: a strong presence, and the kind of goofy dance moves that made everyone smile. A bear who could soften the hardest days.

He ran a carpet cleaning business—not necessarily out of passion, but out of necessity. Parkinson’s changed what was possible for him physically, and working for himself allowed him flexibility. Still, I believe that if given the chance, he would’ve built something all his own anyway. He had the entrepreneurial spirit running deep. Always dreaming. Always brainstorming.

What stuck with me most wasn’t the business itself, but the way he ran it—with heart. People loved him. Like, stop-you-in-the-grocery-store loved him. I couldn’t go anywhere without hearing, “Are you Scott’s kid? He’s the best.” He had this natural ability to connect with people, to go above and beyond, and to leave folks just a little brighter than he found them.

That’s what I carry with me.
That’s Daylight & Daisy.

It’s a business built from the desire to do the same—to spread a little light, to plant joy, to be a soft and steady presence in someone’s day. I might not shift mountains, but if I can bring a smile, a warm moment, or a bit of brightness into someone’s life, then I’ve done what I came to do.

So today, I sit in gratitude.
For my dad.
For his legacy.
For his strength, his light, and his dance moves.
And for the way his spirit lives on in my work and the tiny tattoo on my wrist that reminds me every day: leave people better than you found them.