A Father’s Wisdom
Posted by Anne
Each week, during my picturesque-but-annoying hour-long commute, I look for ways to pass my time—most often through great conversations with friends and family. Sometimes, the conversations are mundane, sometimes a wee bit gossipy, and sometimes…inspiring. These are the conversations during which my Mom shares her hopes, I share my dreams, and my sister shares her life. And in the evenings? It’s often my Dad who I’m able to catch for a solid half-hour.
This past week, as I whizzed past berry farms and sheep, my Dad made a casual, brief, and incredibly poignant statement. He said, “You know those people, don’t you? They’re just normal people who’ve done extraordinary things.”
He’d been describing a man he’d met on a recent vacation to Pinehurst, North Carolina—the veritable home of American golf. My Dad is a true fan of not only playing golf, but the game of golf. And after 30+ years of marriage to my Mom—a total history nut—it’s no wonder he’s become intrigued by the history of the game as well.
In preparation for his visit to America’s version of St. Andrews, my Dad read books. Lots of books. And I’ll conjecture that his favorite was a sweet and vivid memoir by a man who grew up on Pinehurst’s links, in the town, and surrounded by the history of this game. From those written pages, my Dad just knew he’d connect with this author. “He seems like a nice person,” he told me. So, what did my Dad do? He contacted him. Granted, there were some steps in between, but ultimately, my Dad contacted this author—someone he admires and respects.
I’m not sure how the conversation unfolded, but somehow my Dad managed to score a date to play an entire round of golf with his revered author. They talked and connected for 18 holes, and then talked and connected over a drink at the “19th hole”. He met other notable golf personalities, and surrounded himself with like-minded people. By the time he came home, he was smitten with the whole experience.
And as he spoke of the experience, it struck me…
By seeking someone who inspires him, taking the initiative to reach out—my Dad is, indeed, a normal guy who did something completely out of the ordinary. His time in Pinehurst was magical to him, but only because he made it so. He created an experience he wanted by taking risks and reaching out. And man, did it pay off. Yet how often do we take an easy path, never asking for what we need, and simply admiring others from the sidelines? As I continually evaluate—and possibly rewrite—the life I have, I know I’ll always need mentorship. I hope I can emulate my Dad, and summon the guts to go find the guidance I need.
He’s a normal guy—a normal Dad—who lives an extraordinary life.
Have you ever reached out to a mentor—someone you didn’t even know? Or only knew peripherally? Do you know someone who seems normal, but does extraordinary things?
May 4th, 2010 at 6:05 am
Go Jeff!! That is such a great story and so cool. I am a firm believer in “it never hurts to ask” and “the worst she/he can say is no.” So, I do ask to meet people if they are inspiring. I was just telling Elizabeth that I emailed with Gretchen Rubin and she actually wrote me back! I invited her to coffee when I’ll be in NYC in a few short weeks, but she declined. But hey–at least I asked and she was generous enough to respond even if declining the invite.
May 4th, 2010 at 6:25 am
I agree with Meghan, it never hurts to ask. When I was in high school I sent a fan letter to Steve Allen (I was such a nerd, I was writing to a comedian my own dad’s age). The marvelous Mr. Allen not only wrote back, he sent me a box full of autographed books, which I treasure to this day. Good for your dad for reaching out and making his experience in golf Mecca so remarkable!
May 4th, 2010 at 6:28 am
Anne – Thank you. It’s nice to have a daughter that I can count on to be a fan of mine. Your mother, on the other hand, has teasingly accused me of being a cyber-stalker. To set the record straight, I did send him an email about something he had written, but it was he who gave me his cell phone number and asked me to call, and it was he who suggested we play a round of golf.
But here’s the real value of this episode for me. Part of the measure of a person’s life are his/her friendships, and the depth and enjoyment of those relationships. I learned long ago that interesting people know other interesting people, so I have a responsibility to my friends to be more than an inert lump. And that fact inspires me to stretch myself to become more interesting myself. To read more, to do more, and to experience more.
I will admit that I was a bit out of my comfort zone contacting an award winning author of several books, but I thought it would add to my Pinehurst experience, and it certainly did. And when the day was over, he was just Jim, a guy about my age from Greensboro. Just a genuine, normal guy, who has a not so normal life. And as he left, we shook hands, and he said he was glad I was a new buddy of his.
May 4th, 2010 at 6:28 am
I totally thought of Meghan when I read your story
I am TERRIBLE about reaching out to people I admire. I always make the excuse, “Well, they probably wouldn’t be interested in hearing from somebody like me.” But often they are.
May 4th, 2010 at 6:31 am
I think of my step-dad, who, admiring the pro’s at the pool table, worked his game & got their attention, until he was touring beside them in tournaments on the pro circuits. Your post reminds me that I have a lot to learn from these not so ordinary people in our lives.
May 4th, 2010 at 6:32 am
Jeff, I completely agree with you that “interesting people know other interesting people.” I not only try to surround myself with interesting people, but strive to be interesting — and interested — myself.
May 4th, 2010 at 6:55 am
You’re welcome, Dad. I’m still unsure if I’ll ever be able to do what you did, but I’m wondering if maybe on a smaller scale? But you’re right…we have to keep ourselves interesting by associating with interesting people.
May 4th, 2010 at 7:52 am
I’ve heard this same story from Dad, but without looking at it through the same lens that you did. These risks are wonderful ways to enrich our lives and it’s refreshing to be reminded of that. Lovely post.
May 4th, 2010 at 11:39 am
This is pretty profound – and with such reassurance and promise. We’re all ordinary people capable of doing extraordinary things. Most accomplished, well-known people started out just like us.
May 4th, 2010 at 10:15 pm
Wonderful story and perspective…thank you for sharing!!!
May 5th, 2010 at 4:32 am
How cool is your dad? I love that he thought, “Wow, I enjoyed this book. I’ll let the author know that.” And then he DID! I always mean to do that very thing and yet I never actually carry through.
I think I could learn a lot from your Dad.