When my wife said, “Your dad was a great man,” it seemed like a well-intended platitude. Yet, Sandy doesn’t waste words or flatter. She speaks the truth, routinely in love. My favorite cousin also said I had underestimated my dad. They were correct. Bill, my father, was a great man; although not well known, he was truly admirable. Now I strive to imitate, develop, and retain more of what I had missed.
In the last 18 months, I’ve posted blogs about three early deaths: a very close male friend, my favorite dog, and another friend, peer, and joyful hiking buddy Brian, who was a generation younger. In the conversations and emails following those blogs, several readers encouraged me to share about my dad. These are my reflections.
A Little About My Father
My dad, Bill, had a clear idea of who he wanted to be, but he left no journal, and I never heard him articulate his vision. I learned what it was by reflecting on what he did.
Bill was patient and gracious. Although he had a preferred way of doing most tasks, he recognized there was usually more than one right way or solution. Neither of my parents would describe themselves as gracious, but their understanding of human frailty enabled them to be gracious to the other imperfect people in their lives.
He had nothing to prove and the good sense to resist proving anything. He kept his pride and his temper on a short and tight leash. All who knew him understood that he was gleefully joined at the hip to his bride. My dad was a careful observer of what people did, and almost deliberately deaf to what they said. He respected respectable people. He rarely dealt with the disreputable ones, and then very carefully.
Bill appreciated the value of the dollar. Early in their marriage, my parents got into financial trouble, and they learned a lesson that some never master. They only used credit for cars, which they paid off in two years, and for their first home. Their discipline set them free. My parents were content after 60 when they had more than they needed. Their net worth never owned them.
Holding Himself to Account
Bill aimed to live the Golden Rule. He was not a member of any congregation until 18 months before his passing, about a year before his cancer diagnosis. I don’t recall seeing him read or study Scripture until his cancer diagnosis, yet he understood that he was accountable for the way he lived.
He grew up in a time and place when racism was taken for granted. Yet in five decades I never heard or saw a racist word or deed. Only once did Bill admit being ashamed. Some co-workers urinated in a black man’s work boots. Bill had not, but he didn’t try to stop or admonish the other guys. He regretted his silence.
Here’s another example.
A generation ago most gay men were not open about their sexuality, even in a university community. Maybe there were 20 openly gay men in the 70,000 population. My parents’ neighbor, Gary, routinely brought home young men who spent the night. One night a young man murdered him.
My dad disagreed with Gary’s lifestyle, but his attempt to fulfill the Golden Rule mattered more than disagreements. Each day of the murderer’s trial Bill got dressed up and went to court. He was never called as a witness. Yet as a neighbor, my dad felt honor-bound to support Gary’s memory. I didn’t understand at the time. Now that I better appreciate Bill’s values, I can see that his choice was consistent with who he was.
Unseen Kindness
My father was a private man. He did much good without fanfare. I learned of one such act at his memorial.
After the eulogy, a lady I didn’t recognize told a touching story. She and her Navy husband lived diagonally across the street from my parents. A couple of months earlier while her husband was deployed, she had a mechanical problem in her garage.
In addition to his other strengths, my father could fix almost anything. He was patient and mechanically minded. Sitting in his empty home, he diagnosed the problem and developed a solution that he could implement.
Then Dad drove 200 feet to her garage. She was startled to see him slowly get out of the car. Within a few minutes, using their combined tools, he helped her solve her mechanical problem.
My dad was several months into his hospice time. His doctors estimated that he had only months to live. When he explained why he had driven only 200 feet, he must have told her about his cancer and hospice state.
Within a few minutes, he drove back across the street to his garage and then rested. The next week when I visited, he said nothing about his neighborliness.
Learning from My Father’s Example
I learned many life lessons but paid a huge DUMB TAX to learn the hard way. Things would have been easier earlier if I paid more attention to my father’s example. Since my father died, I’ve tried to imitate much more of his character, especially those strengths I had not noticed earlier. I’m making some slow progress.
I’m still trying to master “A place for everything and everything in its place” and ”The easiest mess to clean up is the one that never gets made.” My “fix-it ability” is still pitiful.
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Regardless of your age, is there anything you want to imitate from your parents’ lives? If so, what do you admire and intend to build into your legacy? Or what family weaknesses or flaws did you intend to stop rather than pass on to your heirs?
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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.”