Things My Father Taught Me Along the Way to Teaching Me Something Else

 

My father, Ray Morissette, grew up during the 1920’s in eastern Montana after The Great War (which we now call World War I). That’s a generation that isn’t known for much talking, let alone introspection. He was not a man of many words, but when he spoke, it was usually worth listening.

Out of high school he had a full ride chemistry scholarship to Montana State University, but had to come home after one semester to help support his parents. He never finished a degree, but was definitely a lifelong learner. He loved geology and accumulated enough credits from night courses at one of the local colleges that it would have qualified as a major. He even learned Greek and his favorite Bible was an interlinear that allowed him to see both the original Greek from the New Testament and the English translation.

All that is to say he was an intelligent man whose mind functioned both deep and wide with an almost infinite desire to learn.

He had an insatiable curiosity for just about everything: from the geological development of the earth, to industrial processes, to cowboy poetry. (Yes, cowboy poetry!). I can’t count the number of hours we spent stopped by a freshly made road cut to examine the newly exposed geology.

He managed to instill that curiosity into all three of his children, and it’s one of the most valuable gifts I would ever receive.

Beyond that he had a generosity that was extraordinary, but unless you were the recipient of it, you’d almost never know it happened. He was never one to toot his own horn.

 A large part of the legacy he left us was the stories of that generosity people told at his memorial service after he died. Over three hundred people, some travelling many hundreds of miles, came to pay their respects and tell their stories.

There was the rancher who told me about the time dad paid his insurance premium for him. After he'd had several bad years and the bank told him they’d wait one more year to foreclose on him if he could keep it insured, dad pulled out his checkbook, said something to the effect of “I’ve had you as a customer for almost 20 years. I’m not going to lose you now”, and sent the payment to the company. The rains came that year, and the rancher was able to pay dad back and bring the bank current, saving his family’s livelihood.

Another told me about how he’d been laid off from his job at a plant in the Midwest and came to Montana to start a new job there. He had put everything he had into the move and was completely out of money. Dad asked him how he was going to feed his family until he got paid at the end of the month. Breaking down in tears, the man said he didn’t know. Dad then picked up the phone, called the local market, and told them to give him whatever he needed for the month and dad would pay for it.

And the stories went on. Not only were the stories remarkable, but that even his family didn’t know many of them speaks volumes about his humility and grace.

Those are just a couple of examples of things he taught me along the way to teaching me something else.

Why do I put it that way? I describe it that way because he never “preached” at us or told us specifically what we should do/how we should be.

He just let his actions and conversation be an example. You know the old adage that there are three ways children learn? The first is by example; the second is by example; and the third is, you guessed it, by example. Dad epitomized that approach. For better and, in some ways, for worse. We’ll get to the worse part a little further down.

I learned that a curiosity about things was a good thing (and great fun as well) simply by his actions. When we passed a dairy in Denver and I asked how cheese was made, dad would say something like, “I don’t know. Let’s go find out.” Next thing we knew, the manager of the dairy was giving us a tour and I was stirring a 150-gallon cauldron of cottage cheese. Same for the US Mint to find out how coins were made. Same thing when I asked how radio waves worked. The next night he came home with three books for me, and we studied them together. Same thing…. The list goes on and on, but you get the idea.

I’m thrilled to report that my children seem to have developed that same curiosity.

I learned that others may see things a little differently than I do. When I’d say “Well, obviously…”, he’d come back with “What’s obvious to you is obvious to you.” That covered a lot of ground but is oh so true! I can’t tell you how many times that helped me in working with people. I even said it so many times to people who worked with me that I understand it’s now repeated as a “Del-ism”. Dad would be proud.

In that same vain, he gave me, “Every person on this planet is unique. If any two of us are just alike, one of us isn’t necessary.” That’s how a kid learns to value our differences.

Although I’m sure it wasn’t original to him, another is “Never attribute to malice what is adequately explained by stupidity.” I’ve also gotten a lot of mileage out of that one. The simplest explanation is usually the best. I understand this has also become another “Del-ism”. Deescalates a lot of things very quickly, doesn’t it? But it’s also critical to understand when it really is malice (or maybe a character disorder). For example when a despot tries to take over a neighboring country or presidents who think they’re unaccountable to anyone.

Dad taught me that not everything makes sense all the time and that’s just life. That one came via, “Some things I can defend; some things I can explain; and some things I can only shake my head.” Anyone that’s worked in a large organization understands why that one’s critical to survival.

I learned that two seemingly conflicting things can be true at once, and we have to learn to hold those in our mind (and heart) even with limited ability to reconcile them. Paradoxes exist. This one has theological implications as well: how can God be both 100% loving and 100% just? I have finite knowledge and finite ability to understand. Any god I can fully understand isn’t much of a God. On this earth I’ll never understand and reconcile everything.

Another thing I learned that has stood me in good stead is “You don’t fight fire with fire; you fight fire by being fireproof. The fire will burn out, and you will still be standing. Fight fire with fire, and you both get burned.” Good one to remember when someone starts flaming me unjustly. Even when the flaming is justified, which for me it has been too many times, escalating the fire doesn’t help.

Somewhere along the way, I learned that complex problems are most often just a collection of little problems. Break down the big, hairy, complex issue into its components, and it’s both easier to resolve and not nearly as daunting. Taking the fear away is half the battle when solving problems.

Additionally, along the way came examples of effective communication. He had an almost uncanny ability to communicate highly complex topics in easily understood, straightforward language, but that required a deep and wide understanding of the topic. To paraphrase Oliver Wendall Holmes, I would describe it as simplicity on this side of complexity is simply naïve; simplicity on the other side of complexity is profound. And we need to be able to recognize the difference.

And the list could go on….

So, what are some things I learned from my dad that were less than helpful?

Dad never understood the depth and breadth of his capabilities in general, and professionally in particular.  He fully believed he was successful in business only because he was in his hometown where people knew him.

The truth was he was an extraordinary salesman that could have been dropped into any city or town in the country and been successful.

We all know the jokes about insurance salesmen. Dad couldn’t have been further from that stereotype. He wouldn’t sell what was known as “whole life” insurance. He said it was too expensive for his customers and they would be far better off buying a “term” policy” (which was much, much cheaper and gave him a much smaller commission) and investing the difference in mutual funds.

When his company came out with health insurance, he wouldn’t sell it. Instead, he’d send customers down to a competitor to buy a Blue Shield policy that gave better coverage for less money. (There is a whole other story about how his refusal to sell his company’s health insurance changed the company’s product for the better. Maybe sometime we’ll talk more about that incident and how two men speaking up, when over 17,000 others didn’t, later drove billions of dollars of revenue for the company.)

He dealt with people with integrity and championed their well-being even when it meant less income for him. No wonder he had 85% of the cars in the county insured!

But still, he didn’t understand that was special; that it was as rare then as it is now. To him it was just the way to do business.

Just as with all his “teachings” this message was subtle, but strong.  In addition to the positive of “treat people fairly”, he also modeled a mindset of, “don’t stretch too far. Don’t aim too high. You’re better off staying safe where you’re known.”

It’s a large part of why I turned down an electrical engineering scholarship to MIT.

The offer must have been a fluke. Who did I think I was that I could cut it there? And that was only the beginning. Another family member had wanted to go into engineering, but couldn’t get past calculus. Who was I to think I could do calculus if they couldn’t? That led to turning down multiple engineering scholarships.

Stay safe. Go to the college where my sister went and come back home to take over a family business. That’s the prudent thing to do.

In another post, I’ll talk about why today I don’t regret any of those decisions. When we turn it all over to Jesus, He redeems all of us, and that includes the past.

Another example dad set that didn’t serve me so well was that introspection was a waste of time. Understanding ourselves and what drives us, what frightens us, what makes us respond to events and people the way we do, wasn’t even on the radar. For some reason his curiosity didn’t extend to what was buried deep within him.

This was not atypical of that generation, but was especially pronounced in both my parents. Therapy? Counseling? What good was “navel gazing” going to do you?

I never realized how clueless that left me until my early 30’s. When my first marriage was falling apart, I had my first experience with a therapist. He managed to crack open the door that let in just enough light to begin a lifelong learning about myself. 40 years later I’m still pushing that door further open.

I will confess that at times I’m a little envious of those who gain some insight into themselves much earlier than I did. It’s such a huge advantage in life. The earlier we “get it”, the better.

While I’ve set plenty of bad examples for my children, I hope this is an area where I’ve done a much better job than Dad did.

At the end of the day, as it is with almost all of us, Dad did the best he could with what he had to work with, and I am so grateful for all I learned from him.

So, who was/is a large influence on you? What have you learned from them? When did you start to learn about yourself? What makes you who you are and drives what you do?

Let me know in the comments or drop me an email at threefingersbackblog@gmail.com