by Berend Booms, Associate Editor, Future of Assets
Certain days in the year carry a weight far beyond their place on the calendar. They get their importance not from general convention, but because of what they have come to mean to you personally. For some it may be a birthday or an anniversary, for others it may be a holiday or a milestone.
For me, the most important day of the year is March 20. That date marks two beginnings that changed my perspective on everything that matters: both of my sons were born on that day.
Two Beginnings, One Date
In 2019, my oldest son was born. He was six weeks early, his arrival catching us completely off-guard. His first days in no way resembled what I had imagined parenthood to be like. We had to run before we learned how to walk, our entire existence now taking place within a small ward in the NICU of our local hospital. Those first few weeks were characterized by constant monitoring: every beep of the monitor, every bottle of milk, every gram of weight – every small sign of progress carried enormous significance.
After we were discharged, I remember life outside of the hospital initially feeling very awkward. After many little firsts, it came time to celebrate a big one: my son’s first birthday. This March 20th again was very unexpected, as the Netherlands had just gone into lockdown for COVID-19. His second birthday was a lot better, and we thought we were getting the hang of things. By the time of his third birthday, my wife was pregnant with our second son. March 20th was on a Sunday that year, so my wife suggested we celebrate the Saturday before instead, to make sure we could rest before we had to go back to work the following week. In hindsight, I am really glad we opted for the early birthday celebration, because that night my wife woke up to an alarmingly familiar feeling.
My second son was also born on March 20, this time in 2022, and like his brother, he was six weeks early. The level of symmetry still feels difficult to comprehend: the same date, the same premature arrival, the same sudden shift from expectation to uncertainty, from eager anticipation to agonizing anguish. Reliving that same experience was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to endure. In both cases, my sons were so incredibly small and fragile in a way that makes you acutely aware of how little control you truly have. March 20, which used to always be about the start of the spring season, took on a whole new meaning from 2019 onwards.
From Early Uncertainty to Everyday Moments
Looking at my kids now, it is almost impossible to reconcile those early days with the reality of who they have become. My oldest has just turned seven, and has started to display a level of awareness and consideration that delights me. For his birthday, I got him the Pokémon collector’s box he really wanted. He was over the moon, and gave me a handwritten thank-you note not long after opening his presents. Later that same day, I watched him read to his younger brother, carefully working his way through the Eric Carle classic “The Very Hungry Caterpillar.” Given where their journeys started, this moment carried more meaning than he could possibly realize.
His younger brother just turned four and starts primary school next week. In the space of what feels like a few short months he has developed a sense of independence that shows itself in small, everyday actions: getting dressed, putting on his shoes, zipping up his jacket, making his own peanut butter sandwiches. They’re ordinary things to most people, but extraordinary signals of growth that mean the world to me.
How We Experience Time
The thing that feels most special about March 20 this year is not how far we’ve come since those early days, but how they themselves experience it. For them, their birthday is pure joy, untouched by any sense of time moving too quickly or any understanding of what aging might mean. It’s the excitement of waking up in the morning and getting to open your presents. It’s the joy of having not one, but two cakes, and cherishing that extra slice of birthday cake. It’s getting to pick what’s for dinner not one, but two days in a row. For them, sharing a birthday still feels completely natural; they are not arguing over presents, and not competing for attention. For now, they are both happy and excited, which is remarkable for as long as it will last.
At this stage in their lives, getting older is not only exciting but elating. It represents new possibilities: my oldest son reminded me very early in the morning that he now meets the age requirement for Minecraft. It’s the onset of new experiences and skills to be discovered: my youngest son got a new Avengers backpack for when he goes to school that he was very proud to parade around. At this age, each passing year expands rather than constrains what still lies ahead, almost epitomizing what progress really looks like.
As adults, our relationship with the passing of time and with birthdays tends to shift, often gradually and almost imperceptibly, until one day you realize that the sense of anticipation has been replaced by something a little more apprehensive. Speaking for myself, birthdays are no longer something I particularly look forward to. This is not out of any sense of negativity, but simply because they serve as a reminder of a reality that is getting more difficult to ignore with every passing year: getting older no longer means becoming more capable in every sense.
When Time Moves in the Opposite Direction
And perhaps that is why for me, writing about birthdays brings to mind something else entirely: the way we think about time in the context of the assets we manage. Where my sons exemplify a trajectory of growth and expanding capability, most of the assets we work with follow a very different path as they age, one that is defined not by natural improvement, but by gradual degradation over time.
From the moment an asset is commissioned, it begins a process that, if left unmanaged, leads to declining performance, reduced reliability, and an increasing need for maintenance and intervention. While slow at first, this process is irreversible; in the same way there is no fountain of youth, there is no lubricant that will turn back the hands of time on your aging assets. Understanding this is actually a fundamental principle in how we approach asset management.
The reasons we invest heavily in maintenance strategies, in condition monitoring, and in predictive capabilities all have to do with managing this reality; trying to slow the rate of decline, extending the useful life of the assets, and ensuring they can deliver value for as long as possible. But even when you apply the most advanced approaches, you cannot reverse the curve; we are managing it, shaping it, and at best, optimizing its trajectory.
Thinking of my young sons, each passing year brings growth, learning, and an expanding horizon of possibilities. Thinking of the assets we manage, each year requires more attention, more care, and more deliberate intervention to sustain performance and value. That is not to say that there is no progress over the duration of an asset’s lifecycle, however. Our understanding of the asset evolves, and with it, our strategies become more refined. Our ability to anticipate rather than react continuously develops, driven by better data, better tools, and, as far as I’m concerned, better conversations about what good really looks like in practice. The future of assets, after all, is not defined solely by the assets themselves, but by the people who operate them, the decisions they make, and the knowledge they share in the process. This is true progress, but perhaps not in the way we might instinctively expect.
What We Choose to Celebrate
In our house, March 20 will always be a day of celebration. It serves as a reminder of both how far we have come from the early and uncertain beginnings, and how quickly time moves when measured not in months or years, but in moments. To me, it will always be the most important day of the year. Not because of what it signifies on a calendar, but because of what it has come to represent in my life: growth where it mattered most, resilience where it was needed most, and a perspective that has shaped how I think about progress most.
While assets may not age as gracefully as we would like, and while we ourselves may feel the effects of time more than we care to admit, there are still parts of life where getting older remains exactly what it should be: not something to manage, but something to celebrate.
So, what is your most important day of the year, and what does it represent? If you’re open to sharing, I’d love to hear from you.