By Eric P. Harding
THE OTHER DAY, OUR KITCHEN TURNED INTO AN ARENA OF SORTS—though not in the traditional sense. My 14-year-old, Elliott, and I were huddled over a game of Magic: The Gathering, trying our best to outmaneuver the other with what we thought were brilliant strategies. My 11-year-old—Wallace—however, was off to the side, casually mixing up cookie dough but keeping one eye on the game.
(For those unfamiliar with MTG, it’s a collectible card game that originated when I was in high school. I dabbled back then, and I picked it up in earnest a few years ago. You play as a powerful sorcerer, summoning creatures to fight on your behalf, slinging spells, and generally disrupting your enemy—all with the goal of toppling your opponent. It offers strategically rich gameplay that rewards forethought. I taught my kids as soon as I thought they were ready for it.)
As the match wore on, it became painfully clear that Elliott and I were at a standstill. That’s when Wallace—hands still dusted with flour—wandered over and glanced at the play area and our cards. With a smirk that only comes from knowing you’re the best at something, he started pointing out moves we hadn’t even considered, quickly dismantling the strategies we’d
been so proud of. “Here: If you play this card next, you’ll have the advantage, “he said to Elliott, who followed the advice and instantly gained the upper hand. Then, almost as an afterthought, Wallace suggested a countermove for me. It worked perfectly, of course. Within minutes, our careful game had turned into a masterclass, with my 11-year-old effortlessly guiding us through the nuances of the game as if it were child’s play—which, for him, it sort of is.
Once the match wrapped up—quickly, I might add—I turned to find the kitchen counter filled with perfectly baked cookies. Somehow, between solving our MTG dilemmas, Wallace had managed to create the most delicious batch of chocolate-chip cookies we’d ever had.
It struck me then how life is often a mix of unexpected talents and interests, much like the combination of Magic: The Gathering and baking that day. The same kid who can outwit his elders in a card game can also whip up a treat that leaves us all in awe. It’s a blend of skills that, on the surface, might seem unrelated but somehow come together perfectly.
This issue is much like that day—a collection of stories that, at first glance, might seem disconnected. But as you explore each one, you’ll see how they complement each other, creating a rich tapestry of ideas and experiences. Sometimes, it’s in the hodgepodge of different elements that the most surprising and delightful connections are made.
In our cover feature, “‘Interesting Times,’” author Alyssa Oursler explores the idea of reputational risk. At this point, it’s almost cliché to say we live in unprecedented times, but that doesn’t make it any less true. And actuaries need to be prepared to contend with emerging threats to the profession’s reputation. Between climate change, demographic shifts, and artificial intelligence, there’s plenty to keep an eye on.
“Looking Back, Moving Forward”—The Employee Retirement Income Security Act of 1974 turns 50 this year, and the Academy is going all-out to mark the occasion. Take note of the events, issue papers, and newsletter coverage—past and future—in this dynamic series.
In “A World of Differences,” read an overview of the findings from the first series of annual statements recently published following the implementation of the IFRS 17 standard. The analysis reveals some of the challenges faced by readers of insurance statements under this new standard.
And don’t miss the culmination of Srivathsan Karanai Margan’s excellent six-part series on geoengineering. “Hacking the Planet—Part 6” examines the various effectiveness and associated risk pathways of climate engineering from the perspective of the insurance industry.
Thank you, as ever, for reading. If you need me, I’ll be in the kitchen, cleaning up some spilled flour and cooking up an idea for a new deck.
