7 Lessons Learned From My Dad—Read To Him At His 70th Birthday Party

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Excerpt: I could have easily written 70, but being concise is something (else) my dad taught me. So here are seven standout lessons learned from my dad instead.

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1. Speaking publicly did not come easily for me. It’s something I’ve struggled with and worked incredibly hard at for years. And in one of my earliest speeches to a larger audience—and when I was first starting to build my quote website—I wrote a speech that was entirely composed of quotes from other people. It was a play on other peoples’ words that took tid-bits of insight and turned them into a singular motivational type speech. And afterwards, my dad asked me a simple but powerful question, “…But, what do you think?” And my speeches were never the same.

2. Writing also did not come easily for me. I struggled for years with perfectionism and had the hardest time finding the perfect words for assignments, essays, speeches, etc. So much so that I was always the last kid out of class during written exams and avoided the whole idea of writing for almost a decade after I graduated from college. When I finally started dipping my toe into the waters of writing again, I again, struggled with perfectionism and would ask my mom and dad to proofread every single thing I wrote before I published—even when I started publishing daily. Eventually, my dad told me to just trust myself. He told me I was good and that the process would be the best teacher of all. And he was so right.

3. In passing one day, I told my dad I was doing a strength training program for skinny guys because I wouldn’t ever be able to become a body builder. And without hesitation he asked, why not? And it was one of those ceiling shattering moments when I realized the story I was telling myself was the only source of that limitation. And whenever I find myself saying I can’t do something… I try to channel this fatherly advice and ask myself from a more factual and optimistic perspective: why not?

4. When my parents got divorced and my dad moved out, he wrote me a letter. In it, he shared the complicated and heavy feelings that came with the situation and concluded it with four words he said always helped him get through hard times: This too, shall pass. And it did. All the way to the day when my parents would join a band together and happily play for live audiences—one show at this very location! And it’s a piece of advice I hold close to my heart whenever my heaviest emotions are passing by.

5. In the same above mentioned letter, my dad told me that some things are better expressed written than off-the-cuff and in person—especially when complicated and heavy feelings are involved. Writing is thinking clarified and trying to speak off-the-cuff when you’re face to face with “complicated” and “heavy” can simply lead to more complicated and heavier. Write it in a letter is a piece of advice that has been absolutely pivotal in my life and has helped not only me, but some of the people closest to me during some of my life’s most turbulent times.

6. In one of my favorite poems written by my dad, he beautifully sets the scene for the battle that takes place between capturing moments and being fully present. Which is a battle I still face daily. What moments do I want to “render, immutable now?” And which moments do I want to let “distort, unravel, and reconstruct—without conclusion?” It’s not only a reminder to remain present, but to be okay with there being unsolved questions in life. Who knows which should be photographed and which shouldn’t? Maybe it’s best to simply live presently with the question.

7. And finally, there’s a piece of advice he has shared with many of us and it’s one I’m still figuring out. And it’s the one line he wants to have engraved on his tombstone: “I was only here for the cake.” And when I look around at this celebration of my dad’s 70th revolution around the sun, I think I’m starting to get it. Because in many ways, my dad was not given cake throughout his life. Cake was something he had to work really damn hard for. And so tonight, as we all share each other’s company and enjoy this wonderful night out, I encourage you all to eat the cake. Because life happens fast—and if we can’t enjoy the cake every now and again, what are we working so damn hard for? Cheers!

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