Growing Up in the Shadow of Steel Mills
Northeast Ohio is a place of grit and determination—where monolithic steel mills once stood as symbols of American manufacturing might. I grew up mere miles from those mills, watching my father—an ever-determined millwright—keep the blast furnaces alive. His calloused hands were a badge of honor, and his relentless work ethic funded the private-school education he believed would open doors for my siblings and me.
Yet the mills, bustling as they were, foreshadowed a lesson about how industries rise and fall if they fail to adapt. Over the years, those once-thriving factories turned into “brownfields”—industrial graveyards of missed opportunities. It’s a cautionary tale about the power of reinvention, a lesson my father modeled every day.
A Father’s Vision: Identifying Potential and Insisting on Opportunity
Long before PCs were commonplace, my dad brought home a TRS-80 computer—an extravagant purchase in the late 1970s. He had heard about computers from a younger coworker. This young man’s passion for technology was evident, and my father—never one to let talent go to waste—insisted he be transferred out of the steel pit and into an office job, despite the young man having no degree. My father went so far as to leverage the union and nearly shut down the entire mill until the management relented. It was a bold move, born of his conviction that skills should be leveraged, not squandered.
That same conviction shaped my own journey. As soon as we powered up the TRS-80, it was clear I had a knack for programming. I taught myself BASIC, then moved on to C and C++. My father’s joy at seeing me surpass his level of skill with the PC was immeasurable—it confirmed his vision for my future. Even as he felt stuck in his own career path, he pushed me to explore new frontiers so I might avoid a similar fate.
Tragically, he passed away in his early 50s, but not before he saw me land my first job. Each evening, he eagerly listened to the day’s achievements. The pride in his eyes, and his unwavering belief in my potential, continue to guide me.
Carrying the Torch: Fatherhood in an AI World
Now I’m a father myself, raising three children in an era shaped by artificial intelligence. Where my father introduced me to the TRS-80, I’m introducing my kids to AI tools and frameworks. I want them to do more than just “use” these technologies—I want them to question, refine, and even reimagine how AI can be harnessed for good.
- My son, a junior at Miami of Ohio University, is in Paris for a study abroad program. Already, he’s showing “Jedi-like” powers of automation—turning even small tasks into jaw-dropping showcases of what AI can do. He’s not a computer science major, yet he’s impressing his peers with every efficiency hack he devises.
- My middle daughter will likely begin her journey at Auburn University in the fall. She’s quickly learning where (and how) to draw the line on AI usage for academic work. She’s discovering that the boundary for ethical AI-assisted learning moves constantly—and that the real skill lies in adapting to that shifting line while extracting everything possible.
- My youngest, a high-school freshman, might be the most creative of the bunch. He dreams of becoming a music producer, and he initially bristled at the idea of AI-generated songs and beats. I remind him I felt a similar resistance when MIDI and sampling came on the scene years ago. Gradually, he’s starting to see AI not as the “enemy” but as a powerful tool that can amplify his artistry.
Through each of their journeys, I see echoes of my father’s influence—a determination to embrace new opportunities rather than fear them.
Brownfields vs. the AI Frontier: Embracing Change
When I look at the rusted silhouettes of those old mills, I see missed opportunities for adaptation. In my work—leading AI-driven innovations like predictive maintenance for offshore oil rigs, developing enterprise-grade generative AI platforms, and building advanced customer analytics—I see limitless potential. The difference is choice: adapt or cling to the past.
AI is that wide-open frontier for those bold enough to pivot early. Where entire industries once resisted the forward march of technology, we now have a chance to champion it for efficiency, growth, and societal benefit. In learning from the mills’ fate, we can avoid becoming brownfields ourselves.
A Binary Tribute
Before we close, I want to share a personal message in the language my dad and I bonded over—computers:
01010100 01101000 01100001 01101110 01101011 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00101100 00100000 01000100 01100001 01100100 00101100 00100000 01100110 01101111 01110010 00100000 01100101 01110110 01100101 01110010 01111001 01110100 01101000 01101001 01101110 01100111 00101110
I’ll leave it to you to decode. If you do, let me know—his legacy might live on a little more through your curiosity.
Call to Action: Planting Seeds for an AI-Driven Future
My father’s purchase of a TRS-80 was, in hindsight, the seed that changed my life. That seed grew into my passion for technology, my career, and my mission to teach my children (and anyone willing to learn) about the power of AI.
So here’s my question to you: What seeds are you planting today to prepare yourself and those you care about for the AI-driven world ahead?
Whether it’s learning a new skill, mentoring the next generation, or overhauling your business to harness AI’s full potential—small steps can lead to remarkable outcomes. We’re living in a time of unprecedented technological shift, and like my dad once did for me, the best gift we can offer the next generation is a chance to create their own future.
As always, thank you for reading, learning, and growing alongside me. I’d love to hear your thoughts and stories in the comments. Until next time—let’s keep looking ahead, and let’s keep reinventing.
Warmly, James Housteau
P.S. If this story resonated with you, please share it with someone who needs a nudge to embrace change. After all, the best way to honor the legacy of those who taught us is to pay it forward.