The Legacy of My Father
Recently I was cleaning out my garage. As I was going through box after box, I stumbled upon one that contained items that captured a brief snapshot of the life of my father. My father was a graduate from the University of North Carolina-Chapel Hill, a Lieutenant in the United States Navy, a lawyer, a loving husband, and an amazing father. Unfortunately, he passed away on 9 July 1993 at forty-two from a massive heart attack. I was only eleven years when I lost my father.
As I searched through this box, I had to remind myself that I hadn’t had a conversation with my father in over twenty-six years. However, still to this day, I use what he taught me as a measuring stick to be an effective leader in every aspect of my life. As I continued to go through the box, I found certificates, plaques, and photos that started to paint a picture of what type of leader he was. I remembered seeing these items on his office walls. It got me thinking. If I didn’t know my father, how would I know what kind of leader he was? Would the items in this box show me all the second and third-order effects his mentoring had on people? Would the pictures and plaques show me how he handled adversity? Honestly, it wouldn’t. I can only dust these items off and get a general idea of what he accomplished. But, why do I remember the things he taught me twenty-six years later?
It’s nothing fancy; it’s the fact that he made time for people and put others first. It’s the same formula that various leadership books throw out there.
My father always made time for people. If I had a problem or needed someone to talk to, he was there to listen. If I didn’t do well in school, he was there to get me back on the right track. No matter the situation, he made time for me. I never remember him telling me to come back later because he had something else going on. Subconsciously, I have been following in his steps my entire Air Force career when it comes to supervising. Sometimes his best tendency was active listening. He would sit down with me, listen, and then try to assist. Twenty-six years later, he came home from a long day at work and dropped everything he had because I needed him to listen to me. It still stands out like it was yesterday.
He also put others first. Life as a lawyer can be stressful, but no matter the degree of stress he was under, he would put on a mask and cherish every free minute he had with us anytime he got around my family. Every night he would assist around the house, help my mother with dinner, and spend quality time with us. He never shouted out for someone else to take out the trash, and he did it. Once everyone else was squared away, he would work on his agenda for the next day or relax. He would only do so if everyone else were taken care of.
Then it hit me, is this what’s going to happen to my items? Will my daughters or grandchildren find a box labeled “Dad’s Stuff” box in the attic and dust them off to find coins and decorations? How will they know what kind of leader I am? Not to diminish any of my father’s or my accomplishments, but nobody is going to remember if I won a quarterly award. But, they will remember if I dropped everything I was doing to assist with an issue. His achievements are in a box, but a result of his leadership is on full display.
Will your achievements and leadership only end up in a box in the garage? Or will your essence, legacy, passion, and commitment to be a great leader live on to be passed down from generation to generation?
