Loving husband and father…

There are a lucky few who seem to have been born with career clarity.

The ones who knew from the time they could talk that they were meant to be a chef. Or an athlete. Or a pianist. Or a gymnast.

We love these people. They are inspirational. Exciting. Somehow it feels like we can live vicariously through them and have a sudden burst of our own clarity.

“If only I had the time to focus on my thing like Simone can focus on gymnastics.”

Thanks to the Paris Olympics, we’re currently inundated with the highest performers in the world, and almost every one of them has a story of focus.

Of knowing exactly what they were meant to do.

For the other 99.99% of us, it can feel a little more… muddy. At least in 2024.

Decades ago, a man would get a job right out of school at the local corporation and work there a loyal 40 years until given a gold watch, a nice pension, and a few years to watch the waves lap up the sides of his sail boat before kicking the bucket.

It strikes me how similar this feels to the most elite performers.

Even the Simone Biles’ of the world must say “By my own passion or outside pressures, I have no choice but to give everything I can to gymnastics until I run out of something to give. Then I will take my gold medals, a nice brand sponsor deal, and a few years to watch the sunset reflect off the rims on my g wagon before kicking the bucket.”

While painfully boring, the clarity that comes with a clear, predictable, obvious, career at the local company must have been at least some kind of comfort.

But clarity is not without sacrifice.

For olympic gymnasts, earning gold means sacrificing their childhood. Their friends. Their families often splitting up to move half way across the country to the most elite training centers.

For past generations of corporate loyalists, earning that gold watch often meant sacrificing being part of their children’s childhood. Not making time for friendships. Their family splitting when they just didn’t have enough in their head or heart to maintain a healthy marriage on top of it all.

I’ve been thinking recently about my obituary.

Fun I know.

When we die (and we probably will), the will be words said. Probably by someone we love. Hopefully nice things about who we are and what impact we had on the world.

For a select few, it will be a single great accomplishment.

For a few dozen, they will never outweigh the “Former President of the United States” or “World’s greatest Olympic gymnast” title on their resume.

For most of us, the top billing in our lives will be our relationships.

Without some great calling. Or a path to the presidency. Or 20 Olympic medals around my neck. I can only hope the first words anyone says about me when I die are “Loving husband and father…”

So then the questions must be asked time and time again, not will this make me more money or will I get a better title.

But will this make me a better father for my girls? Am I doing everything I can to be a good man? A good husband?

Are you?

be good

z

ps. For all the dads trying to do their best for their little ones. I love you. Keep it up. You’re not alone. Call me if you need anything.