At Resource Planning Group, we think a lot about legacy building. Planning helps guide how we can best utilize time in pursuit of the “important stuff.” Sometimes we learn the most about legacy from our own experiences. This Thanksgiving marks 25 years since my father left us. His legacy has been on my mind a lot lately. Please enjoy this tribute to my dad – aka Grandpa Marlow to the grandchildren who have not met him face to face – and the legacy he has left to our family….
Dad was big on respect. Don’t get me wrong, he did not demand it from me or anyone else. But he did hold high expectations for our family to be respectful of others. Oddly, I don’t remember a single conversation we ever had about the word. Instead, Dad reinforced the importance of respecting and honoring others daily… constancy of purpose compounded Dad’s legacy of living respectfully.
We approach 25 years since the man has left us, and all the more robust I understand Dad’s legacy to be. Present day tempts us to think about legacy in terms of dollars and cents; names on buildings; complicated estate documents – if only it were so easy. Legacy is more. Legacy is created in the moments.. in the repetition… in the subtleties of daily life.
Reflecting on my childhood, Dad’s legacy of respect includes two ingredients, albeit from the same garden: Respect for self. Respect for others.
Respect for self. Dad’s lessons, as clear as if they were yesterday:
- “Never ask a young lady why she had to cancel your dinner and movie date, Son… just let her know you hope to make it up sometime.” Don’t look for excuses from other people: self-respect.
- “Excuses are for those who make them, Thomson!!” Dad didn’t make this point in the same manner as my high school basketball coach, but the message was similar: accountability builds us up and excuses tear us down.
To Dad, excuses were a way of assigning blame, whether it be to ourselves, others, or to our circumstances. Self-respect and the blame game could not cohabitate. Time and time again through my teenage years he refocused me on opportunities to learn rather than lay blame. Working through challenging circumstances rather than making excuses fostered self-respect.
Interestingly, I cannot recall a single ounce of blame that Dad laid at my feet (to be clear this speaks more of his character than my behavior). That said, our household included plenty of accountability. More than once, I found myself running to the E5 bus stop from McKinley Street to Friendship Heights to make the connection down Wisconsin Avenue… ultimately, to arrive late and sweating to Mr. Eagles’ 8:00 European history class – all because I was a bit lackadaisical in my morning routine. Afterall, “Son, you knew good and well what time I need to leave the house in the morning to be at work on time.”
High on accountability, low on blame – avoid excuses. Not a bad combination to teach a prideful teenage boy a little something about self-respect.
Respect for others boiled down to a single element: Honor.
When we take for granted the time and efforts and experience of others, we diminish others. When we match their efforts and passion and interest, though, we honor them.
Dad encouraged us to honor our teachers – not with good grades or apples, but rather by putting in the effort and by arriving on time! In schools, workplaces, on our athletic teams, do we not honor and show respect to our classmates, teachers, teammates, and colleagues when we simply…TRY?
The second lesson that Dad instilled in respecting other people… A little background first.
We lived in Washington, DC, and Dad worked at a bank in a part of town where the convenience stores did business through iron bars and plexiglass, 24/7. Those bars and windows — and the rough surroundings they suggested – magnified what was so special about my dad and his legacy of respect.
With whomever he crossed paths – wherever the neighborhood and however different the backgrounds – he made people feel heard… seen…important… honored. Whether the interaction included a cup of coffee transaction through iron security bars, or teaching American History to a class of inner-city junior-high students, or helping an elderly customer balance her checkbook – Dad loved listening and hearing others’ stories.
Nobody felt invisible when they crossed paths with my father. He knew something that we forget too easily today. We show respect to others, and we honor their stories – their presence – when we give them our attention. Is it not the case that much of the legacy we leave to future generations comes from our presence in life’s moments – those times with our family and friends and colleagues and strangers on the street – when we prioritize the important stuff over the “easy button” and what is convenient in that moment?
Thank you, Dad, for being there for your grandchildren, even though you cannot be here with them.
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