I never wanted summers to end. I rarely looked forward to the first day of school. Family vacations to West Virginia or Canada, still my favorite places to visit, came and went in the blink of an eye. Looking back, I was not especially productive with my time. I played a lot of tennis and consumed way too much TV. Many weekdays, from 11 am to noon, I watched the Price is Right with my mom and sister. It was so exciting to see a contestant spin the Big Wheel and land on 100. I miss Bob Barker. How cool would it have been had he reached age 100? He passed away last year, only four months short. After a break for lunch, it was time for The Young and the Restless. Am I the only guy who watched a soap opera with his mom growing up? I may be the only one willing to admit it. Recently, I turned on the TV in my office to share my computer screen with clients, and there was Victor Newman—still going strong! I’m ashamed to admit there was a small part of me that wanted to keep watching. Please don’t judge me or my mom too harshly!
Today, my household is split—a few can’t wait for the first day of school, and a few would prefer summer every day of the year.
Having five kids, my wife is in the former camp and tries to load up on as many summer camps as possible, but even that requires complicated planning and coordination. If this responsibility fell primarily on my shoulders, I would not keep track of them all. This summer I managed to leave kids 2 and 3 at a rest stop driving home from New York. It is rare that the three introverts are together, so the quiet didn’t surprise me, and I thought they might be sleeping in the back of the suburban. About 30 minutes later, my cell phone started ringing. I ignored the first two calls, but thankfully answered the third. Naomi had borrowed a Good Samaritan’s phone and says, “Hi Daddy!” Without missing a beat, I respond, “Oh hey Nater (my nickname for her), what’s up?” The funniest thing about this story is they weren’t even surprised about it. I’m just glad my phone wasn’t on silent. I don’t like to think about how long I might have driven down the interstate without them.
The school year I dreaded most was eighth grade.
Over the summer, my acne had become progressively worse. Teens today are mortified by a lone pimple. My case was as bad as it gets. I prayed often that God would take it away, but the mirror never brought good news. Kids would ask if I fell into an ant pile or ever washed my face. Thankfully, I didn’t develop any facial scars like some do. Having a few good friends made all the difference in the world during that difficult time. I was shy and became especially self-conscious about my looks. My dad would tell me not to worry, that this, too, shall pass and that I would marry a beautiful woman one day. He was right! My character was impacted most deeply during three phases of my life—my first few years at Allen & Company, grinding it out through constant rejection, my son Quinn’s brief life, and 8th grade.
In High School, my favorite teacher was Mrs. Langford.
She taught me the meaning of grace. I would trade everything else I learned in four years for that valuable lesson. That’s how school and life tend to me. There are long stretches where it feels like we are just going through the motions and out of nowhere, a revelation, or epiphany, as Mrs. Langford would say. I call them nuggets. Now, I look for them and try to be self-aware when they reveal themselves. It’s a lesson, a quote, a prayer, or an idea that transforms your perspective on everything. When I go to conferences, or read a book, or hear a sermon, or have a conversation, sometimes it feels like I’m listening to Charlie Brown’s teacher drone on. But there is always a hidden nugget or two worth savoring. I loved Mrs. Langford because she went deep, not wide, in her teaching. I try to approach my own moments of teaching, coaching, and counseling with that same mindset. As my kids go back to school in a couple of weeks, that’s what I’ll tell them. Find the nuggets.
August 2024
