I’ve been to the Consumer Electronics Show enough times now that I no longer think of it as a trade show.

CES isn’t something you simply attend.
It’s something you navigate.

In last week’s newsletter, I focused on CES through the lens of AI—what’s moved from “wow” to “now,” and what that says about how organizations are adapting to uncertainty. This reflection looks less at the technology and more at the conditions that make real learning possible—through mentorship, renewed relationships, and deliberate openness in complex environments.

A colleague I’ve known for more than twenty years reached out when he learned I’d be attending. We’ve traveled parallel professional paths in the defense and security world, but he had never been to CES. He made a point of coming—not because the show demanded it, but because he felt the timing right for us to reconnect inside it.

That alone changed the experience.

On his first day (one day before I arrived), he did what almost everyone does their first time at CES: he went to the wrong place. Familiar categories. Predictable stops. Comfortable terrain. By his own assessment, he effectively burned a day.

And that’s not a criticism—it’s a lesson.

CES is unforgiving in a way most defense trade shows simply aren’t. The scale is enormous. Multiple venues throughout Las Vegas host aspects of CES programming and show floors. The signal-to-noise ratio is brutal. Being slightly misaligned can put you far from where the real learning is happening.

If you want to really learn something, try teaching it to someone else.
Teaching forces clarity. It exposes gaps. It turns instinct into structure.

As we regrouped and recalibrated, I found myself doing something I’ve come to recognize as one of the most reliable ways to deepen understanding: I was teaching.

Walking the show together, I shared hard-earned lessons—how to think about geography before programming, how to pace curiosity without exhausting it, how to recognize relevance before it’s labeled or validated. I explained why certain spaces mattered and when others didn’t—yet.

But teaching sharpened my thinking too.

He asked different questions. He noticed patterns I might have skipped past. He brought a defense practitioner’s instincts into an unscripted environment that doesn’t organize itself around defense priorities. That exchange—sharing critical information while also gleaning it—is where the real value emerged.

I spend a lot of time at defense and security trade shows. I speak at them. I support them. I represent organizations like AUVSI and formerly led FDCA. They matter. They serve a purpose. They are often the right place to reaffirm relationships, stay aligned with known priorities, and take the temperature of a market.

But environments like CES do something different.

They don’t reaffirm what you already know.
They confront you with what you haven’t yet learned.

Real learning happens in the gap between what you know today
and what your future self needs to understand.

The distinction isn’t about venue quality—it’s about intent.

Trade shows provide periodic updates. Unscripted environments provide raw material. And while we have access to new information constantly, we don’t always set the conditions to receive it. Too often, we arrive optimized for efficiency, confirmation, and familiarity—when what’s required is openness guided by purpose.

At CES, the discipline isn’t knowing exactly what you’re looking for. It’s knowing roughly what matters—and recognizing it when it appears in unfamiliar form.

By the end of our time together, what stayed with me wasn’t a product demo or a trend headline, though several were indeed fascinating. It was the reminder that growth accelerates when you explore new space alongside someone you trust—someone who challenges your thinking simply by walking next to you and asking better questions.

And then there was a quieter realization.

Some relationships don’t fade.
They simply go dormant.

In my experience—particularly in the veteran community—time can pass without weakening the bond. When those relationships reengage, they often do so without friction, without explanation, and without accounting. You don’t pick up where you left off—you pick up where you are now.

That kind of reconnection is rare. When it happens inside an environment built for discovery, it’s powerful.

CES provided the backdrop.
Teaching created clarity.
The renewed friendship made the learning stick.

Who’s guiding you through uncertainty? 

What Are They Saying?

Here’s a few recent feedback quotes in response to The Federal Funding Hotwire:

• Enjoy reading your posts, always very informative and makes me stop to really think.
• Outstanding piece, my friend!
• This format is excellent.

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