Kent Child was my father-in-law, and an entrepreneur. He learned his lessons the hard way. He was a starving real estate broker in Salt Lake City. He, his wife, Carol, and their three children all lived with his mother-in-law. Well, Salt Lake was just not working, so he picked up, moved his family to California and started over. Over a twenty-year span he became a very successful broker and then real estate developer.

In 1980 I started dating his daughter Alison. Or maybe she simply agreed to go out with me. Nonetheless, Kent and I immediately hit it off. He decided to move back to Utah to enjoy Park City, which he loved. Kent partnered with long time friend Warren King and they built and sold Stonebridge Condominiums. He became active in the community, made many new friends, and was a positive influence in Park City.

Alison and I were married in 1983 and that’s when he really started working on me. He was a philosopher and would love to tell stories that would bring home the point. And the point always centered on, “you will not make real money until you work for yourself. Some people should work for others, but you, you are an entrepreneur.”

He told me how he got started in California. Liked to say that, “in those days you could be anything you wanted, even a brain surgeon. All you needed to do was to put up a shingle.” Told me about the challenge of taking a good idea and then making a business out of it.

So, I decided to roll the dice. Alison and I started Kirwin Productions out of our small house on Payday Drive. Set up a business phone and the first time it rang we almost killed each other, both running to answer it. Kent kept saying, “Nothing happens until somebody sells something,”

Didn’t make any money that first year, but had happy customers. Didn’t make much the second year either, but our customers were still happy.

Now, Kent was preaching patience, which I was starting to run out of. We were working like dogs and this thing of “working for yourself” was wearing thin.

And then the third year. Oh baby. Things went much better. We earned some larger customers and they came back for more and more work. We grew. And Kent was just getting started.

He’d say, “Okay, now we have to ramp this sucker up. Need to invest in more equipment and more people.” We did, and it worked.

And now he switched to another gear. “Always leave something on the table,” he would say. “Don’t be greedy. Charge a good price, deliver quality, and always leave money on the table so customers would feel good about the experience.”

As the business grew so did the problems that needed to be solved. He would always listen intently, then put his glasses up on his forehead, look at me, and say, “Okay, we have to think this through.” And then he would encourage me to lay the problem out on the table and simplify it. “You can’t solve something until you understand the real problem.”

Over the years he proved to have uncanny wisdom when it came to timing a deal, knowing the people, and delivering value.

Kent died in 1996. Since then I have closed Kirwin Communications, and started 3point5, Inc., now the largest Internet-based training program in the sporting goods business. And recently I began building Channel Signal, a new media company showing great promise.

Kent is with me every day. Telling me to remember the lessons. And when I want to do or say something stupid he appears in my brain, raises that finger and says, “now let’s think about this.”

I do. And the problem gets solved.

So, I am donating 500 dollars to Park City Performing Arts Foundation’s Seat Campaign in the name of A. Kent Child. He loved music and the arts in general. Took piano and painting lessons. And was forever improving himself and those around him.

He would be proud of his name being permanently placed on the arm of that seat in the Eccles Center. But not as proud as I am of him.