55 Years On…

People tell you to be proud — of what you’ve accomplished, what you’ve endured, where you were, and where you are. But pride is complicated. I never liked the spotlight, though like all fund managers who built something from nothing, I wanted to be both silent and a household name — to have influence without needing attention.  Well,  mission accomplished. For the good, the bad, and the ugly.

Today marks the day of my birth, my fifty-fifth year.   I look back with nostalgia for what was, have hope for what’s coming, and the awareness that this is, whether I like it or not, the halfway point. And yes, that sounds a bit pessimistic — but it’s as real as it gets. If I’m lucky enough to keep torturing our readers until I’m 110, this is the midpoint. Not pessimism — just pure realism.

We spend our lives chasing what we think will make us happy, only to discover we were probably wrong.  If you’re lucky enough to find real happiness — and someone who is your soulmate — then you can truly say you’re happy. The road to get there though is far from easy. 

We all ask similar questions about our lives.
Is this all that I’m going to be?
Is there nothing more?
Who am I really?

Does your career depict who you are or is it what you leave behind that makes your time here relevant?  Dreams change and well, life changes whether you want it to or not. If you want to stay standing, you learn to adapt — to shift, absorb, and keep going.

These days we live in a world that wants everything yesterday. Patience is a lost virtue. Success on demand, recognition without the road. But life doesn’t work that way. Things take time, work, and perseverance. You can’t be afraid to fail. If you haven’t failed, you haven’t pushed hard enough.

For a long time, I thought success meant money and things — the easiest scoreboard to read and the most misleading one. True success is quieter. It’s being able to look at yourself in the mirror and know you did all you could, that you never took the easy way out. Win or lose you stood up to play the game.  Success is not looking for medals or applause. Real success is taking the hits — getting knocked down so hard you can’t breathe — and then finding a way to regroup, get up, and move on.

The older you get, the clearer it becomes that not everyone is meant to walk the whole road with you. Some disappear when the winds change, or the spotlight fades. A few — the rare few — stay.  Loyalty isn’t proven in celebration; it’s proven in silence.

I think about the people who left too soon — mentors, friends, those who saw something in me before I did. Their absence isn’t sad anymore; it’s gratitude. They taught me that every moment matters because none of them are promised again.

At 55, the world looks both sharper and calmer.  I move slower, not from fatigue but from focus.
I no longer chase what glitters; I’ve seen how quickly it fades. I still have ambition, but it’s measured in purpose, not possessions. The world rewards loudness, but real strength lives in quiet persistence — in showing up when you don’t have to, in standing when it would be easier to fall.

Fifty-five years on, I understand that life isn’t about arrival; it’s about adjustment. You never really “get there.” You just keep becoming.  The proof is in being here — still standing, still learning, still curious.

I never left — not the work, not the questions, not the belief that the best version of life is the one you earn the hard way.  Strength carries you, but grace keeps you moving — the grace to forgive what you can, release what you can’t, and wake up willing to try again.

So 55 years on, I move forward — not chasing, not escaping, just continuing. Because that’s what life really is: evolution.

Still standing.
Still moving.
Still here.

The path forward is about creation — telling the truth as I’ve lived it, sharing the lessons that time has tested, and giving voice to the conversations that matter.

As one continuation leads to another, The Ribotsky Institute will soon publish my forthcoming book,
Resettable: The Inside Story of PIPEs, Power, and the Structure That Changed Wall Street —
a look at how the structure I created, which the United States government used during the Global Financial Crisis, shaped a generation and the lessons it left behind.

And the story doesn’t stop there.
Ribotsky Institute Productions is also launching its first-ever podcast,
Dad, Did We Just Break America?
featuring myself and my daughter, Skylar Ribotsky

Two Generations.  One Country.  Thousands of Questions – And a Few Answers.

Because after all these years, I’ve learned that real work isn’t just living through history — it’s talking about it, understanding it, and trying, in some small way, to make it better.

— Corey S. Ribotsky