Letters from Sunday Morning

One letter every Sunday about how founders lead, decide, and sometimes get in their own way. Something worth noticing. Usually something worth trying.

“Victor's Sunday Morning letters overflow with courage and the love.”
Robbie Swale — Executive Coach, Author— The Power to Choose

Four questions keep showing up in what I write. Every letter answers at least one of them.

The Toll

What success quietly asks us to pay.

The Origin

What home taught us that no boardroom could.

The Autopilot

What we keep doing after it stops serving us.

The Inheritance

What we were given, and what we pass on.

Motive Before Reason

I became a graphic artist almost by default. Picture this: sixth grade, looking out the window, thinking about the meaning of life, what it would be like to be one of the big boys in high school and eventually college. I knew what I didn't want. Math was a chore. Science didn't excite me much. Bu...

by Victor Rivera — Sep 02, 2026 the toll

Aguanta

My wife and I are empty nesters now. The empty nest changes the acoustics of a house. There's more silence. More space for thoughts, words, and for music. Most nights we cook to music. Jazz, sometimes. French chanson when she's nostalgic. And often, because I can't help myself, Spanish songs tha...

by Victor Rivera — Sep 02, 2026 the inheritance

Revolver

Hey, it's Sunday Morning. I knew people were speaking because their lips were moving. But only one word kept coming to mind: Kemosabe. I was working on a credit card communication project, and the client kept using the word "Revolver." In finance, a Revolver is a customer who carries a monthly ba...

by Victor Rivera — Sep 02, 2026 the autopilot

You Say Love. I Hear Bacon.

Hey, it's Sunday Morning, I love bacon. I love my wife. I love my putter. And I love the poems of Pablo Neruda, a love quite different from my love for bacon. The word stays the same. But the weight of it is always changing. Funny, isn't it? The same word. Four different devotions. We fill i...

by Victor Rivera — Sep 02, 2026 the inheritance

Ooooh!

Hey, it's Sunday Morning. The lobby felt like a cathedral. Marble floors, high ceilings, glass walls. You could hear the clank-clank of your steps. It held the white noise of an episode in Black Mirror. The kind of space that makes you check your posture before you sit down. David and I walked ...

by Victor Rivera — Sep 02, 2026 the autopilot

A Cliff Is Not a Kingdom

Hey, it's Sunday Morning, Before Tiberius set foot on Capri, someone whispered a lie into his ear. They told him Rome wasn't safe, that enemies were closing in, that distance was strategy. So he left. He climbed the cliffs of Capri and built a palace above everything. From there, he ruled, at lea...

by Victor Rivera — Sep 02, 2026 the toll

Look It Up

Hey, it's Sunday Morning. Back before the pandemic, when daily office life revolved around cubicles, ringing phones, and food deliveries, an esteemed colleague took a call from a client I thought I knew well. As had happened before, the client said something insensitive that required me to step i...

by Victor Rivera — Sep 02, 2026

Witness

Hey, it's Sunday Morning. Long ago, one Sunday morning, I was sitting in my favorite chair, reading. My daughter came over, like she had many times before, and climbed onto my lap. I kept reading. I pointed to the sentences—how they connected, how they moved together. I was lost in the architectu...

by Victor Rivera — Sep 02, 2026 the inheritance

The Devil Is in the Label

Hey, it's Sunday Morning, My dad took my brother and me out for dinner when I was five or six. The food came: sancocho, the Dominican stew capable of fixing almost anything, with a side of plain white rice. A red bottle sat on the table. To my six-year-old eyes, it looked like ketchup. I didn’t r...

by Victor Rivera — Sep 02, 2026 the autopilot

The Language of the Body

Fourteen degrees. That’s the curve in my spine. Small enough that you wouldn’t notice it from across a room, significant enough that my body has been adjusting to it for as long as I can remember. My wallet is thin because a standard one presses against my lower back when I sit. My running s...

by Victor Rivera — Sep 02, 2026 the autopilot

The Ring

Hey, it's Sunday Morning I grew up believing shiny shoes and a crisp shirt said everything about a person: a gold chain, a good watch, a pinky ring were proof. Not symbols. Proof. One Sunday morning, my wife and I sat at 12 Chairs Café and noticed a couple a few seats over. They held hands across...

by Victor Rivera — Sep 01, 2026

Why I Fired Good People

It's Sunday Morning, Ever wonder why new homeowners always want a new kitchen? You don't feel haunted by someone else's dreams when you walk into a bedroom. But the kitchen? That's the only room where the previous owner left their mark. The stage set for someone else's body. Their coffee stains...

by Victor Rivera — Sep 01, 2026

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