The title of this blog is motivated by the title of a newspaper article I wrote when my uncle passed away years ago. The article (shared below) was about my thoughts as I recognized the influence he had on me, and the motivation I had as a result to be a better role model for others in my life. Now, more than a dozen years later, after many years and many roles… as a teacher, a coach, a step-father, a co-worker, a consultant, a manager, a husband, a caregiver, and a friend… it is interesting to see how things have evolved. The article was written pre-9/11; yet it seems appropriate to my life and my recent work post-9/11, and my evolution as a personal coach and mentor. Everything is indeed connected.
A Mentor Walks With Me (The Cracker Barrel magazine; Gloucester Daily Times: 2000)
Today, my job is to hold the flag. My eyes look over the detail of the embroidered stars and the clean lines of the woven stripes. It is a new flag. It is a flag with so much history.
My mind isn’t on the flag, its particular freshness or the history it represented. It is on the man below it- the man who is lying still, at attention, while a lone Marine off in the distance plays Taps.
My Uncle Bob was my mentor, my teacher. Yes, there were hundreds of people in Gloucester, Massachusetts who could say the same thing. After all, he was a teacher there for many years. And yes, there were many friends and relatives who could also say that he was their mentor. A few of them had spoken about him today. But today, my thoughts are on him, and what he meant to me.
The lines on the flag blur as my mind wanders and my eyes tear. I hold on to the flag.
I was sitting next to him on a cold, damp Thanksgiving morning watching the annual Danvers-Gloucester football game, staying warm. Together with my brothers, we woke up in the morning and went to the church to borrow some large tables for the afternoon turkey dinner that would bring many of my aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents to his house. Then we went to the game while my aunt coordinated the feast. It was our annual guys’ time with our uncle. Everyone seemed to know him at the game. Everyone seemed to respect him. They smiled and joked with him. The following day he would take us into the woods to gather firewood. He showed us how to use the chainsaw and split wood. The weather would sometimes get clear and warm. He would take us swimming at Front Beach or to the tennis court to hit some balls.
He loved the beach. He’d play kickball with us kids. He’d get all of the other adults involved by yelling, “It’s time for ground ball practices!” He’d go play football with the students he knew. He’d have every person at the beach in a body-surfing competition in which he was usually the champion. He loved to play, to win, to laugh and be silly.
A thousand memories ran through my mind… the time at West Mountain when he taught me to wedeln… the time he first showed me how to play tennis in Pigeon Cove… the advice he gave me when I was first married and he was my best man, and the words of wisdom he gave me when that marriage fell apart… the sight of him leading at least 50 kids down High Street in his dress-whites as he led the annual town Memorial Day parade… the opportunity he gave me, when I was still in high school, to design the deck behind their house which still provides extended family a summer afternoon meeting place.
I looked at the three Marines in full dress, at attention. Will their eyes ever see what his eyes saw in two wars? Could we ever imagine what it was like to fly propeller-powered aircraft in air combat? Will I ever hear these stories? I’m keeping the flag still, Colonel.
His friends spoke of who he was, not of what he did. They spoke about how he lived by his values: respect, truth, caring and love. They spoke about how he was a role model by example, how he always seemed to have boundless positive energy, and how he would never ask you to do something he wouldn’t do himself. They spoke about how, through it all, he never drank alcohol nor used drugs nor spoke foul language. They spoke about how he always took care of his body.
I only saw my uncle a few times a year: Thanksgiving, July 4th, Memorial Day, and during our summer vacations in Rockport. Yet, he had a great impact on me. Not so much on what I did, what I do now, or what I can do, but on who I am… my values, my personality, my happiness. I looked around and saw many of my other mentors, the people who gave me the set of values that I feel blessed with today, the people who taught me many of the skills I have to survive and get along with others. I am so fortunate. I am a product of my parents. They have taught me unconditional love and have always been there for me, supporting me, not judging me. They have been my rock. I’m so thankful for that. I’m also a product of other family members, teachers and friends who were role models for me, who took some time with me, who cared about me.
I looked around and saw the younger people who are still developing their own personalities and value systems. Who will be their role models, their mentors? Who will be their rock? Who will be the people who will take time with them, whether it is to enjoy a game, play on the beach, or be there in a time of need? Who will teach them basic life skills and values? Who will teach them to respect others, as well as themselves? Who will teach them to have the courage to say no to alcohol and drugs? Who will teach them to be happy and to help them lead their own lives? Who will be the people who will be their mentoring community?
My job for that day was to hold the flag, that’s what pallbearers do. When the Marines came over and said to us, “Thank you, gentlemen, we’ll take over from here,” I knew my job for the day was done.
We stood and watched as they ceremoniously folded the newly woven piece of embroidered fabric, slowly, perfectly, like many before them had done. They presented it to my aunt, his wife of over 50 years. They saluted, and then slowly marched away. I watched as his grandchildren, my second cousins, slowly walked up to where my uncle rested and laid flowers down on him.
I spent time later that day with my nieces, nephews, and second cousins. My job is not done. A mentor walks with me. It is my job to do for others what my uncle did for me. And be a mentor.