In 2018, I volunteered to present at our national sales meeting in front of 300+ people on the main stage- the last closing keynote presentation. I often listen to motivational speakers on my commute to work, so I had a good idea of what great speakers did although I had NEVER done it myself- I didn’t share this little detail with the senior leadership team.
Around this same time, I got a Facebook message from my Uncle Gary (my father’s brother-in-law) in Alabama. He had my father’s high school scrapbook and offered to mail it to me if I wanted it; I almost said no. I recalled one of my favorite lines in The Great Gatsby- “Let us learn to show our friendship for a man when he is alive and not after he is dead”.
You see, my father stopped speaking to me when my parents divorced and I was just fourteen. He had an affair with his secretary and I took my mother’s side in the whole dramatic telenovela that became my life. I told him we “weren’t a family, just five people living under the same roof” and he never spoke to me again. Not even almost ten years later at his father’s funeral (my grandfather) when I instinctively hugged him. Then two years later, my father suddenly died. He was 51 and I was 26.
I was such a black sheep for those vicious words of mine that my uncles had to sneak me into the funeral home to view the body. I attended the graveside funeral, but was not welcome or invited. In fact, I was asked (politely) to please not let my step mother (yeah- same woman) see me. I was not even listed in the obituary. Ouch.
But back to the scrapbook. To fully understand the impossible odds this little scrapbook had to overcome, I’ll give you a brief history of the obstacles and events it survived.
This particular uncle was married to my aunt Joy Gail and their house burned ~ 1996 and my aunt died in the fire. In 1999, my grandfather died, in 2001, my father died, in 2007, my grandmother died. Her house was emptied and sold. This is now 2017, TEN years AFTER my grandmother’s house was emptied and sold, but miraculously- this little scrapbook survived and was working its way back to me through the magic of Facebook messenger and my Uncle Gary. Never underestimate the power of a grandmother’s love, the wisdom of youth and God’s perfect timing.
I finally messaged my Uncle Gary back and said yes, I would like to have the yearbook. My grandmother had lovingly archived my father’s high school years in this little book and I was introduced to the young man he was before life broke him. I learned more by flipping through this scrapbook than I had even known about my father while he was alive.
I remembered him as a Master Sargent in the Army. He was a tall quiet man who loved to read westerns, anything James Bond or Sci Fi, Coke floats, French fries and all kinds of candy. I had no idea he had been captain of the football team and basketball team. He got good grades and was the lead in the school play. She saved the homemade posters he made from magazine ads that he’d repurposed to promote himself when he ran and won his bid for school president.
He was also valedictorian and as you know, they give the big commencement speech at graduation. In this little scrapbook, this labor of love crafted by my grandmother, was his hand-written speech and his typed speech with handwritten corrections. I sat stunned and read my dead father’s valedictorian speech in 1968- advice for his fellow graduating classmates- that God had now delivered to me. What a bazaar twist that the words of my 18-year-old father at his high school graduation were now the same words- 50 years later- giving 43-year-old me life advice. My favorite line from his speech is “Do whatever you want to do, but whatever it is, be the best”. This coupled with the paper trail of his speech preparation changed my motivation for my own upcoming speech in two weeks. I not only wanted to give the keynote presentation, I wanted to bring the house down. My mother told me my father was known for being a good public speaker, now I wanted to see if it ran in my blood too.
I worked 2 hours a day for a week memorizing my speech, infusing it with the right language, dramatic pause, the right amount of pacing and just enough hand gestures to emphasize each point in my presentation about using a limitation to your advantage- the story of how the Buford Rec League Football Team won the championship with a 68-pound nose guard (my son). I practiced my presentation until it was flawless. On the big day, I wore my French leather heels, red lipstick and took the stage. It was phenomenal, the audience laughed at the jokes, gasped at the right moments and cheered for the rec team’s unusual strategy that secured the season championship. At the end, I got a standing ovation.
Although my father and I missed the chance to reconcile in life, I was finally able to forgive my father, Dennis Wilbur Glaze. He was, just like me, a human doing their best and making mistakes along the way. Through this simple little scrapbook, his powerful words gave me encouragement, inspiration and a valuable glimpse into his youth that allowed me to appreciate him as a whole person and love him as my father again.
If your father is alive and your relationship is in tatters, please reach out and bury the hatchet. You’d be surprised at how much lighter your soul is when you find the capacity to forgive.
