My Father’s Legacy

The year now quickly coming to an end has been a bittersweet one for me.

On the one hand, it’s been heartening to see how we’ve been able to weather the challenging economic environment of the last 18 months and remain a thriving company, one especially well-positioned to become an even stronger force in the industry as things now improve. But on the other hand, I also lost my father to cancer recently, which has left me in a wistful state.

My father was a proud, stubborn guy, a graduate of the school of hard knocks. As one of 11 kids in a North Texas family of modest means, he wasn’t fortunate enough to have completed high school. And yet he somehow became a self-taught tinkerer and inventor, a man who eked out a living for his family through hard work. He was a jack of all trades, and seemed to understand how everything worked, and how it might be improved with a few small changes. And yet, he was also hampered by the limiting beliefs of his own upbringing in that rough and tumble part of the country. 

When you lose a parent, it’s natural to think about what they taught you, to focus on the lessons of life that have endured into your own adulthood, the lessons which you’re likely to have transmitted to your own children. My dad taught us to be tough, and to always do the right thing. Kids have a way of paying attention to what a parent does more than what they say, and watching my dad as a young girl, I couldn’t possibly miss his charitable nature. Though he didn’t have much himself, he’d quickly offer the shirt off his back to another in need. That’s a lasting lesson that was implanted in me early in life.

And to his lasting credit, he must have done something right to have raised me without the limiting beliefs that sometimes hampered his own life. My work now centers on teaching others that you can always improve systems through continuous study and the implementation of better practices. Is it too much to think that my life’s work is a kind of silent testament to my dad’s life lessons? Thanks, Dad.