My Dad's Legacy Shared in 10 Life Lessons

Last Tuesday, May 22nd, my dad would have been 106. The date had become a reflection on my dad's perseverance through a difficult life. From watching how my dad, and my granddad before him, chose to live life to their lives to the fullest and take every opportunity presented to them, I learned the basis from which I make my own decisions. In the wake of my dad's birthday anniversary, I have been pondering on the words of wisdom I have gained from Dad and the life lessons I have learned along the way.

1. There will always be options. Look for open doors that lead to improved well-being. Find a silver lining or the humor in all things stressful.

When September 11th happened, I had been in business for myself just shy of 3 years. In the months that followed the twin towers falling, American business was at a stalemate. The stock market was in ruins, and people moved around like zombies, only going through the motions of the day.

I remember the day the stock market crashed. I stood in my parent's living room, tears streaming down my face and panic gripping my chest as I told my dad I was witnessing the end of my business. At this point, I was continually reinvesting to build my business; so with no liquid assets, I was left with no money to pay the bills. Always the pragmatist, my dad calmly responded, "Honey, I have lived long enough to know that when the door closes, another one will open."

"But Dad," I interjected.

"And if a door does not open," he laughed as he continued, "there are always the windows."

He believed in what I was doing and, as a daddy's girl, never wanted to see me hurt. His best medicine was always laughter. In thinking back about that conversation, he was right; life is a series of open doors. My dad came from humble beginnings, and yet, he chose to see the positives.

2. A financial situation can always be worse. Work hard and keep working: it will pay off.

My dad grew up poor and picking cotton from the time that he could stand. His dad was an itinerant farmer, which is a fancy word for working on other people's land as needed for low wages. Granddaddy bought land around town when he could, but then the Great Depression hit, and he lost it all. Dad's mom sold cosmetics farm to farm but died from the flu when my dad was just 12 years old. With the exception of a few aunts that lived in town, Dad and Granddad were mainly on their own.

With all the hardships of his past, I never heard Dad complain about growing up poor; then again he might not have known the difference. Radio was the primary form of communication in his youth. Otherwise, some magazines displayed glamorous photos, but I'm not sure how many of those he actually saw during those years. The lack of national and international media meant fewer opportunities to compare and contrast his life to others. That is the debilitating dilemma of our society's fascination with social media today.

Dad's academic career consisted of one college semester. That was before the Great Depression hit, and he dropped out to get a job. He talked about quite a few career changes during those years. Amongst them was washing dishes at Red Bryan's BBQ in Dallas and selling tires farm to farm with Firestone, doing whatever he needed to do to earn a living.

3. No one single job prepares you for another, but instead, it is the series of tasks and the culmination of experiences. There is something to be learned from every client, every deadline, and every speaking engagement.

Dad's life took another turn with the start of World War 2. His best friend, Uncle Bud, was recruited for the Army's Special Forces, The Devil's Brigade. Before his deployment, he took a trip back to their hometown where he encouraged Dad to join the Navy rather than wait to be drafted.

Dad followed Uncle Bud’s advice, and after enlisting in the Navy, he was sent to the Alaskan Aleutian Islands after they were bombed by the Japanese. His time in Alaska formed the man I later came to know as my Dad. Through his role as the purveyor of supplies, he gained organizational skills. From being entrusted with Officer-level duties, he exhibited leadership skills. And by climbing cliffs at the sound of air raid sirens warning the troops of the imminent danger they were in, he learned critical survival skills. 

Dad loved to recount meeting the Admiral over the South Pacific fleet and tell stories of how the brutally cold weather engulfed the troops or of men who took their own lives after getting Dear John letters from their wives back home. Overall, he spoke fondly of his time there, even with all the stories of hardship. After all, they were the moments that shaped him.

4. Providing nourishing meals may require hard work, but the memories built in your kids' hearts will be well worth it.

Fast forward to after the war, Dad met and married my mom, who had two children from a prior marriage. A short time later, my brother and I were added to the family. He started a building business in Arlington with his dad and went on to build many of the homes still standing in Arlington, Texas, including the homestead where I live now.

My dad made a business decision to stop building homes and start remodeling existing homes to sell. This, however, was during a time before flipping houses was a million dollar business. I remember winters and many rainy days where he was restless to be on the job, most likely due to the weight & responsibility of providing for his family. There was no paid time off; if he didn't work, he didn't get paid.

Growing up, I held the firm belief that cornbread and navy beans with a glass of buttermilk were Dad's favorite meal. It was not my favorite meal, but it seemed to give dad great pleasure, and he made the most of it. It wasn't until my 40's that I realized cornbread and beans were not my dad's favorite dish, but the result of having a family to feed and little money to do so.

My parents learned to garden to help provide food for the table. I learned to pull weeds, pick beans, squash, & zucchini, and protect tomato plants from Springtime hail. Occasionally, when Dad didn't curse it out of existence, Mom & I would enjoy fried okra, often counting the pieces to be fair.

They began canning the vegetables so they could be enjoyed throughout the year. I still find myself nostalgic for my Mom's chow-chow sauce; there is simply nothing like it on the grocery store shelf, and I cherish those meals of beans, cornbread, and chow-chow sauce.

5. Do not get stuck in how it has been done in the past but be willing to change for a more profitable future.

Wisely, one of the things Dad did when building or remodeling a home, was trade the buyer’s existing home plus cash for the new(er) home. These homes often became his rental houses, which provided consistent income to supplement the days he was unable to work and to save for retirement. 

It was a smart business move. We sold the last rent house just before Dad turned 90 years old. The rent houses truly did pay dad and mom's way through life. Daddy used to say he didn't budget to live into his nineties, but having the rent houses allowed my parents to grow old and financially stable. While they were not wealthy, their needs were provided for, and in the end, that is what matters.

6. Life's open doors all come down to choice.

In the midst of bidding and working jobs, Dad became involved in his community by serving on the Arlington Independent School District Board for over 21 years. He was also involved in our church, the Masons and any other committee where he was needed. I'm not sure he ever said no. His heart was full, and he had much to give. And give he did.

Over the years, you will discover your passion in spite of all the obstacles that appear to block your way. There are no true obstacles that could keep you from doing what you want to do; there are only the ones that reside in your head. Keep at it and be determined. Do not let anyone or anything dissuade you from your goal.

7. What others view as a weakness is actually your strength.

My stubbornness has given me the ability to persevere. My independence has given me the ability to take risks. My talkative nature has given me the ability to speak in front of thousands. My dad pointing it out on so many occasions taught me to shut up and listen. Do not let your fear of failure keep you from your potential success.

Think outside the box and never be stagnant. Determine to have a life of motion and keep moving forward to open other doors, even if it is only one toe at a time.

8. Decide to be the very best at whatever you are doing. 

That might require classes, it might require time or more than a few sacrifices, but hang in there and see it through. Never settle for mediocrity.

9. Invest.

Sometimes investing is not just financial but also investing in time spent on others. Life is not just about you. I'm sure you have been told this throughout your life, as have I. Over the past fifty years, this has been the hardest lesson for me to learn. Life does not revolve around what I want to do or what I selfishly would like to happen. No, not at all.

Every day I have to embrace this mindset and when I do, I have been able to let go of complaining about life and start maximizing my encounters with people. I choose to speak kindness, to cloak myself in understanding, to make a difference, to listen, to not complain about everything I cannot change and be a catalyst for that which I can change.

10. Be an agent of change.

We all have the ability and the means to improve the society we live in. Make a positive impact on those around you, and you will not be disappointed. Regardless of your past, regardless of how you feel you have been treated, invest in others' hearts in some form. Find a cause you are passionate about and dedicate yourself to it, whether in the form of resources or time, any way you can help makes a difference. 

The open doors of your future are determined by your choices and not just the big decisions, but the small ones too. Not every decision you make will be right and not every decision will be life-changing. Though, some are, so choose wisely. But remember, your timeline is unique to you. Don't compare your series Open Doors to that of others. While you may have some of the same doors at the same time as your peers, ultimately yours are different because they are on your timeline. 

If you had told me when I was younger that all the doors that have opened would be more than I could have ever imagined, I wouldn't have believed you. I stand amazed at my life; there honestly has never been a dull moment. Never in my wildest dreams did I believe that I could make a difference in so many lives and businesses.

If you had told Dad when he was younger he would have a junior high named after him in Arlington, he would have never believed you. I met a gal this past week whose parents home was remodeled by my dad and who ended up working at Gunn Jr. High. She knew him on both levels and couldn't say enough good things about the man my father was. I often tell young dads that there is no greater privilege than for a daughter to be a daddy's girl. I love my dad and miss him every day, but he left me with a legacy of life lessons.

I truly believe there has never been another time in history where such a vast array of opportunities exists. Life will have inevitable hardships, but it is how we choose to navigate ourselves through the ups and downs that shapes who we are.

It is your timeline, your open doors, and your choice.

The future is yours for the making.

Caring For Those You Leave Behind

No one ever envisions a sudden death happening to them. Consequently, drafting up a will tends to be the furthest thing from the mind. However, if you are part of the family left behind, dealing with emotional loss is just the beginning of a long, difficult and challenging road ahead. I know this because I speak from experience.  

A dear relative of mine passed away suddenly. Younger than me, he had never been married, left behind no children, and never created a will. His death created a whirlwind of emotions and responsibilities none of my family was prepared to deal with.    

His small personal belongings were easily given away, but it took almost a year of court visits and attorney interventions before the estate was finally settled. Among his larger assets were a house in foreclosure, a laundry list of medical bills, three trucks, bank & savings accounts, and a retirement fund.  

It did not have to happen this way. Nonetheless, it was a lesson learned for the rest of the family: death can happen at any moment. And the best gift you can leave behind for those you love is a will, with its additional gifts of a HIPAA form, DNR, Medical Power of Attorney, and all the necessary information about your business(es), such as who to contact, logins & passwords. 

While all that information was gathered from my parents when they passed away, the circumstances were different. They were in their old age and we had time to prepare for their deaths. When not expecting death at our door, however, we think we are young, we think we have tomorrow to take care of details, we think it will not happen to us. Not always. 

So, when should you prepare a will? 

When you get married and/or have children?

When you have equity in a business? 

When you buy a house? 

When you have a retirement account? 

When you are aware of your own imminent death? 

When you have specifics about after-life accommodations? 

Now. 

The answer will never be that you do not need one.  Since laws vary by state, I highly recommend an attorney be the one to finalize your will, along with any necessary documents should you become incapacitated or die. An unofficial may not hold up in court, and can ultimately cause greater distress to your loved ones. Take the time to dot your i’s and cross your t’s.  

A will simply designates how your remaining estate is handled in the event of death, but these documents do not go into effect until you die. Should you become incapacitated and unable to be your own advocate, you will need documents that appoint someone you trust to oversee your care and estate, including your business.  

The provided packet from my attorney included the following: 

          1. A Will

          2. Directive to Physicians and Family or Surrogates

          3. Declaration of Guardian in the Event of Later Incapacity

          4. Medical Power of Attorney

          5. Statutory Durable Power of Attorney

          6. HIPAA Release

Along with these official documents, I have created an Estate Worksheet that lists all my financial accounts, life insurance policies, personal property, etc.   

In my book, Matters Of The Heart, I include a Family Toolbox, which is a list of informational documents that will help your family in the advent of your passing and is available with the book to download online. I have used them for my own estate and hope by doing so, will make my estate closing easier. 

I also address the necessity of family meetings to gather information for an aging loved one, which does happen to include everyone.  Use a family meeting because “one person may remember something for the medical history form that no one else remembers. Everyone hears the same information, which, therefore, helps everyone be on the same page. During the initial family meeting would be a fantastic starting point to get everything, and everyone, organized.” 

I currently have annual meetings with my family to review any changes to what has already been established. While it may sound a little morbid, since I still consider myself young and am not yet elderly, I have seen and experienced the deep heartache that can be caused by not having a will or your wishes communicated to those who love you.   

Maybe you’re reading this and thinking, “I already have a will,” but is this will up to date?  Have you included the HIPAA Release form? What about a complete list of necessary account logins and passwords? All changes in your business? Is everything organized in one place for easy access? Would any remaining family know where to access this information? 

If you can leave behind one gift, let it be the gift of organization to those you love.  

For more information or to purchase Susan’s book Matters Of The Heart... 

Step Away From the Intensity of Caregiving

On March 21^st, 9-1-1, a new show on FOX, aired the latest episode, “A Whole New You.” There has been a compelling story line into the trials and tribulations of family caregiving. In fact, that is the story line that drew me into the show.

Abby, one of the show’s protagonists, is a caregiver for her mother, Patricia Clark, who has Alzheimer’s. The scenes between mother and daughter portray the difficult, 24/7 emotional battle that is homecare. Viewers are given a brief glimpse into the unexpected outcomes of caregiving; how it doesn’t matter if you had prior plans when you are needed, how anything can happen at any time, and how emotionally draining and life altering an experience it really is. 

In the previous episode “Trapped,” Patricia lashes out and delivers Abby a slap so unexpected, even the audience could feel its sting. The scene cuts particularly close to the intensity and depth of hurt that inevitably happens when caring for our aging loved ones. That episode ends with Abby finding her mother passed away in the hospital bed she had set up in her own living room. “A Whole New You” picks up that story line as Abby is left to grapple with the powerful force of grief and the fog that follows.

At the end of the episode, in an emotionally raw moment, Abby states, “I no longer know who I am.” I paused the scene and revisited the emotion I felt when my Mom died. A few deep breaths later, I realized how much Abby’s pain resonated with me and my sixteen years of caregiving. This great script writing has to be from someone who experienced caregiving and the acting excellently portrays the raw emotions. 

A Caregiver is truly who I became. The longer the job went on, the more it consumed every facet of my life, while my old self slowly faded away. Then, suddenly when my primary focus of caregiving was complete, it was final. Planning around doctor visits, declining friend’s invites, overseeing my parent’s calendars more than my own and in the blink of an eye it all became non-existent. My main purpose of life left me like Abby - I no longer knew who I was. It was the intensity of a tornado and its sudden end.

March 20th designated seven years since Mom passed away. Caregiving changed me in ways I never imagined. There are bits of myself and things I once enjoyed that are still slow to return. 

My life was severely altered for sixteen years, with the weight of care giving primarily on my shoulders. I was not the same person who entered caregiving that exited that day, though I had put several stakes in the ground, emotional bread crumbs to come back to when caregiving was finished.

Seven years later, life has moved on. Some days are great, while some are not. I believe that is true of most people, regardless of whether caregiving was or is part of their life. Then again, it would be hard for me to gauge.

I do know that seven years later, I still occasionally feel emotional exhaustion. If it is anything like putting on weight, it may be a while until feeling fully refreshed. I make sure to choose activities to aid me along. Digging in dirt working in flower beds, getting my car washed, maintaining a clean house, cleaning out closets and drawers, going to baseball games, enjoying the company of friends over dinner, and laughing as much as possible. Laughing – now, that is refreshingly good for the soul.

In the chapter, “Frustration: Patience is Truly a Virtue,” of my book, Matters of The Heart, I wrote:

“The ballpark is the one place I could go, have a hotdog and a drink, and not think about anything except baseball. It quickly became my refuge from the stresses of caregiving. There are 81 home games every year.  I bet we went to at least 65 home games that first year. It was the one sense of normalcy that I had and I clung to it. They were my outlet – win or lose.

There must be outlets when you are the primary caregiver. One time, I wrote a list of all the things that made me feel good on separate slips of paper and put them in a jar. When I felt overwhelmed, I would pick one.

My favorite was a massage. Another was getting my car washed. Another was sitting outside in the sun. Another was taking a long hot soaking bath with a glass of wine, and nice bubbles or bath salts. Another was burying myself in a favorite fiction author. Another was going to the movie and buying popcorn.”

Like Abby, I did not learn enough about the necessity of stepping away from the intensity more often and was frequently overwhelmed by the angst and heartache that comes with caregiving. I could measure the burden severity, when taking time to step away, by whether I listened to the radio on my seven hour drive to my timeshare condo on North Padre Island. No radio meant I needed the silence. With every mile driven, I was liberated by the thought of all the stress being blown out the window, under the tires, and rolled right over.

If you find yourself in the intensity of caregiving, take opportunities to step away. It took some arranging, but when I stepped away, I did not communicate with home. As caregivers, we are enslaved to our phones. It is often an addiction. It is our emotional lifeline. And, yet, it is more debilitating and detrimental to our lives than we realize. It is an exhausting, emotional reminder of all that entangles us, either consciously or not. Constant accessibility is not always emotionally healthy for anyone.

Step Away. Make it happen for the sake of you! Let everyone know you will not be available. If it is an emergency, use a 9-1-1 text code, but inform everyone who consumes your life that it best be an emergency.

Truly step away – even if just for a day. It does not have to be extravagant. Go to a museum. Drive through the mountains. Get a massage. Hike a trail. Take a chair to a park, have a picnic and listen to the birds.

It is your day – spend it doing something you have always wanted to do, or something you may not have done in a while. It is not the time to grocery shop or run errands. Enjoy your time. In joy, step away.

Warning: The deeper you need to disconnect and step away, the harder it will be. You will be tempted to continue your enslavement with accessibility. That is the addiction entanglement. Speaking from experience, that is not optimizing your much needed break. If I knew the bases were covered, I often put my phone in airplane mode. Sometimes I even recorded a custom voicemail:  “So great to hear from you. Please leave a message but I have stepped away for a few days and will not be returning phone calls until Monday. If this is an emergency, please call _____. Thanks!”

Abby recognized the necessity of stepping away before it affected one specific valued relationship. The intensity of caregiving affects all our relationships, not just the one being cared for.  If it changes us, it is a given that it will change all our relationships with others.

Stepping away is connecting with the “you” that you enjoyed before the intensity of caregiving. Stepping away is at best a self-preservation mode, preserving you, your sanity, your relationships, your attitude, your life, et al.

Stepping away is an art-form worth learning.   

If you want to read more about my dealings with Matters of The Heart, you can find my book here.