My parents had passed before I understood how remarkable they were.
People who didn’t know my parents well could easily think of them as “ordinary.” After he was discharged from the army, my father used his skills and knowledge to provide for his modest family. My parents deeply loved each other and consistently did what they perceived as good for me. That doesn’t seem like anything remarkable until you look around at the people and families where love and care for their children don’t appear to be important.
Unfortunately, I realize the hidden lives and nasty costs of people who fake a good life. Too many families pay a horrible price for the parents to pursue work success, create a superior impression, deny a weakness, or live with a severe conflict between values and goals.
WYSIWYG
About the time my parent died, I came to know a quiet man of excellence. He described himself as “WYSIWYG”—What You See Is What You Get.
My parents were also “WYSIWYG.” They looked like average Joe and average Mary. They weren’t Hollywood good-looking. They weren’t the funniest people you’d ever meet. They focused on trying to do something good with what they had. Neither of them complained or moaned about their previously botched choices. They learned to live within their modest budget without fanfare or drawing attention. Their generosity did not involve the checkbook but their time, care, and wise assistance.
Acceptance and Forgiveness
I was out of their home before I heard either of them say that they had a policy that tolerated three flaws from each person they associated with. Essentially, they said, “You get three flaws. I don’t like your flaws. I’m irritated by your flaws. And that particular one drives me crazy, but I’m going to tolerate that because I’m choosing to like you anyway”. With the passing decades, I have aimed to imitate that policy.
Unwavering Honesty
They were not flawless, but they were honest in almost all their dealings, in practically all situations, and with nearly everybody. Once, as a teenager, I challenged my dad about a small income that he didn’t report on their tax return. To the best of my knowledge, he was honest about money with everyone, including the taxman, for the rest of his life. Honesty in word and deed seemed to exemplify his life from then on.
Quiet Acts of Kindness
Neither of my parents sought the limelight or praise from others. Quiet acts of service were more their style. When my father was dying of cancer and in hospice care, he noticed a neighbor whose husband was on deployment dealing with a car problem. My father thought for a while, drove across the street to her garage, and using his brain, ingenuity, and problem-solving skill, not his departed physical strength, resolved the difficulty, then quietly left. Most of us didn’t know anything about this incident until the neighbor lady told the story in the remembrance portion of his funeral.
My mother had a tender heart for the weak. Many years later, I recognized that in my wife and eventually recalled that my mom also shared kindness for the disadvantaged. My mom used humor to deflect unchangeable and unpleasant reality.
Deliberate and Clear Communication
My parents talked about many things. Surely, they must have disagreed about something, but I was unaware of it. They voted for 50 + years, moved across state lines multiple times, had at least three small businesses, bought two homes, raised one son with some oddball friends and uncommon hobbies, and probably had almost all the other stresses of married life for GI Joe and his bride. Yet I never recall them expressing anger or contempt or doing anything that embarrassed the family.
Many of my friends said they liked or admired my parents more than any other parents they knew. Somehow, I didn’t get the message until after they passed.
I wish I had recognized how admirable my parents were while they were alive. After my dad died, my wife Sandy said he was a “great man.” I pushed back. “Great man” seems like a bit much. She was absolutely right. A decade later, my favorite cousin told me that you were such a snob about people with different gifts that you dishonored your dad with his gifts, which you never had. My favorite cousin had told me a hard truth; he was absolutely right, too.
I admire my parents. I admire how they lived the best life they could. I admire their values and how they lived by those values. And I admire them for the example they set for me.
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Who do you admire? Why?
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This is one of several posts I’m contemplating about people I admire. As more appear, you’ll find links to them here.
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Terry Moore, CCIM, is the author of Building Legacy Wealth: How to Build Wealth and Live a Life Worth Imitating. Read his “Welcome to My Blog.”