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.

We Have Don Henley

Hey, it's Sunday Morning, When we were kids, my brother and I used to fight over the one transistor radio in our small house. After lunch, the air would fill with duplas: radio shows that played back-to-back hits. One radio frequency played Latin ballads, while the other played American artists. ...

by Victor Rivera — Sep 01, 2026

Unbreakable

Hey, it's Sunday Morning, There we were, the four of us. My mother had a creased forehead, already worried. My father a tight lip, ready to listen. My brother Robert was mad, he already knew what I was up to. I had summoned my small family to ask the impossible. I had decided to go to a fancy ar...

by Victor Rivera — Sep 01, 2026

What Followed Her In

Hey, it's Sunday Morning, My mother worked at a candy factory a few blocks from school. She would take her lunch break and simply appear in the courtyard. No shade, only the brutal Caribbean sun, anyone walking in seemed to levitate in the brightness. She'd go straight to the principal's office. ...

by Victor Rivera — Sep 01, 2026 the autopilot

Peace Is the Present

You’ve got coffee. I’ve got a question. Are you happy? Really. How do you know? What comes to mind when you think about happiness? Most of us imagine it as a destination: When the job gets better, When the house is finally clean, When the kids are healthy again, When the weight comes off, Whe...

by Victor Rivera — Sep 01, 2026 the autopilot

Longing for Butterflies

Hey, it's Sunday Morning. I grew up without seasons. I only knew how the body felt: hot most times, wet for a month until Mother's Day, cool and sweet at the end of the year. I didn't know spring by name, only by what it brought: butterflies. Tiny ones, big ones. White ones and little yellow o...

by Victor Rivera — Sep 01, 2026 the autopilot

Unavailable

Hey, it's Sunday Morning, I used to be an expert dream chaser. "You are the one to succeed." "Keep going, you'll go far." "You can do for us what no one can." I carried those dreams like they were mine—across an ocean, through decades, into boardrooms and late nights and the relentlessness of a...

by Victor Rivera — Sep 01, 2026 the toll

Clap When You Land

Hey, it's Sunday Morning. Clap when you land. That's what we do when we get home. A well-worn tradition that speaks of joy and the blessing of safe arrival. In her novel-in-verse Clap When You Land, Elizabeth Acevedo captures this ritual with such grace: "We clap when we land / in the Dominican R...

by Victor Rivera — Sep 01, 2026 the origin

Hats Off, New York

Hey, it's Sunday Morning. After 25 years in suburbia, I've taken to riding the subway again. Most days, old instincts survive and I read. But today, I looked up. To my right: a young couple—maybe on a date, could be siblings. She wore animal print and high-heeled boots. He tried to sound confiden...

by Victor Rivera — Sep 01, 2026

First Time

Hey, it's Sunday Morning. I remember landing at LaGuardia just past midnight in the early '90s, returning from one of my many work trips to Chicago. The terminal buzzed with that half-asleep New York energy: dimmed lights, mumbled instructions, a carousel of strangers with carry-ons. I got into t...

by Victor Rivera — Sep 01, 2026

Carry Your Own Salt and Pepper

Dear one who's still waiting, it's Sunday Morning. The day I left the island, one passport got the stamp, but two people arrived in New York City. One carried dreams, the other carried silence. The dreams were vivid, but I didn’t notice the silence until the day I ordered a sandwich at the deli. ...

by Victor Rivera — Sep 01, 2026 the origin

Abe's Permission

Hey, it's Sunday Morning. "It is better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak and remove all doubt." Lincoln said that. I was nineteen and it hit me like permission. So I stayed quiet—in meetings, in classrooms, anywhere words mattered. I stopped bringing sketches to class, only fi...

by Victor Rivera — Sep 01, 2026 the inheritance

The Echo

Hey, it's Sunday Morning. The Egyptians believed a person dies not once, but twice: First, when the body stops breathing. And again, when their name is spoken for the last time. In other words, memory sustains existence. To be remembered was to live on, to be forgotten was to vanish completely. M...

by Victor Rivera — Sep 01, 2026 the inheritance

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