” … and when you find a cool quote or passage, you can send it to me,” I said, in an effort to convince my sister that ebooks were the way to go. Unfortunately, I was having no better luck than when I tried to sell her on the value of audiobooks.
“I like the feeling of having a book in my hand,” she said. “I like to turn the pages.”
I was getting nowhere.
“Hey, I do have something cool for you,” she said. “Download the PBS app on your phone and you can watch some “American Experiences.”
That is cool, I thought. My sister and I had always been big fans of this exemplary documentary series, but actually catching an episode on TV seemed as likely as stumbling across a Yeti — even though I had my DVR set to record the show, I rarely found anything on the hook.
Soon after, I downloaded the app as recommended, and was not disappointed. When time availed itself (my wife had gone out with friends and the kids were in bed), I settled into my bed with iphone, headphones and the American Experience episode on Henry Ford queued up. (Yes, this is my current idea of a good time).
The show did not disappoint, produced to the program’s usual high standards. I had always meant to read a biography on Ford. Coming across his name here and there, it was always cited to exemplify someone who had achieved great things in very innovative ways. I was interested and wanted to know more.
But while the episode did not disappoint in terms of its quality, Ford did. Yes, he was innovative and yes he was hugely successful, but much like Andrew Carnegie, he turned out not to be someone I wanted to emulate.
There are a few reasons for this. Like many industrial barons, Ford was brutal on his workforce, seeing them more as a collective machine to be ratcheted toward ever high level of productivity rather than human beings to be inspired by a compelling vision.
But Ford had something else in common with the über-successful that I find even more disturbing. He was, in many respects, a failure as a parent. Roosevelt, Churchill, Ford — I’m sure the list can go on and on. They all represent great figures of history whose legacy of guiding their children toward functional adulthood leaves one wanting. The record, unfortunately, is littered with afflictions like alcoholism, serial marriage, and general prodigality. As Winston’s son Randolph once commented, “Nothing grows in the shadow of a great oak tree.”
But that need only be true if the tree forgets (or in the case of Ford, refuses) to part its branches so the sun can nourish what lies below. The tree has a choice, but the aforementioned folks were too busy changing the world to notice. Perhaps they had an excuse, but you, as a lesser mortal, do not.
And this brings me to the all-important concept of balance — a concept that must pervade every aspect of your life at ever deeper levels. You must balance work and life, and in each sphere you must further balance your energies across the divisions in that spectrum. For example, “life” consists of yourself (your mental, physical and spiritual concerns) your family, your hobbies; while work divisions can be countless. To this end, you must stop asking yourself if you’ve had a productive day at work, for on any given day that may not be the measure of success (and on most days of a well-balanced life, it should not be).
The question must become: “Have I had a productive day overall? Have I done my absolute best to allocate my energies and time in accordance with the strategic goals I’ve set for my life? If raising functional children is one of those goals, have I invested a portion of my day to that end?”
Too often, folks put everything into work and almost nothing into the rest, on the mistaken notion that being a good breadwinner means a “get out of jail free card” when it comes to parenting or spousal attention. The shabby parental legacies of many great personages prove that to be false. On the other hand, many who linger in a hopeless career think that work is about punching a time clock for a paycheck with little else to be expected — an equally groundless philosophy. The solution is balance in all things —work that is meaningful, fulfilling and remunerative. A home life that, like a healthy garden, is tended.
At the end of life, great achievements offer little solace if one gazes at a child who cannot stand against life’s storms without aid of crutches that hobble more than they stabilize. But it does not have to be that way — you of great intelligence and boundless energy need only siphon off a bit of yourself for the development of your children. If you do, your American Experience might well lack the all-too-common and all-too-heartbreaking theme that yes, he was great and of inspiration to so many, yet to those who mattered most, he never existed at all.
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