A Case for Respecting our Elders

On the cusp of the second half of December - before the doomsayers announced the bomb cyclone threatening Christmas travel – we set out on our annual pilgrimage south for some respite, family time, and a fleeting existence as casual Parrot Heads.

We drive on these journeys, partly to explore and because we are obliged to bring along with us far too many household items, 40% of which never really get used but give us some sort of materialistic comfort.

As we made our way south, we made a layover at a hotel en route. The following morning, I was walking down the hall after an epic man vs. machine struggle to determine whether I was going to break the cable crossover machine, or it would break me.

Walking towards the mediocrity of hotel lobby coffee, I came across a rather elderly couple standing outside of their hotel room door. The gentleman was clearly flustered because the key card had stopped working and he could not get back into the room. I found this a bit curious as it was not yet 11a and I could see the vintage Samsonite suitcases at their sides.

As I lumbered over to ask if they needed any help, the Mrs. told me that her husband had left something important in the room. It was his briefcase, which “was never out of his sight”.?His ballcap bore the branding of an F500 company.?His New Balance sneakers were spotless.?He was checking the pockets of his festively bright red-and-white-racing-stripes matching track suit.

Now, I don’t exactly have cat-like agility, but I was at least a tad more fleet of foot than this charming couple.

“OK - that DOES sound important. Stay here and I will go get security to come and let you in”

We returned and the old man promptly retrieved his belonging. The catalog case he presented was textbook 1980s. Rectangular with hinged clasps.?It was functional but about as weathered and scarred as Keith Richard’s guitar case.

As it happened he’d been using the keycard from another hotel brand altogether, from a previous night’s stay, further north. What road warrior has not done that?

“Let me give you a hand loading the car”

“Thank you, young man”.?She had me at ‘young’.

“Y’know”, he said, “all of my travel documents are in there, as well as a few records of my affairs but most importantly some family portraits.?This may be the last time we can deliver them in person”

I tried not to reveal my melancholy reaction, because I could see how intensely pragmatic this man was. He went on to tell very proudly me that he had been an insurance agent for a large carrier all of his life and decided to hang up his cleats right about the time “the Internet came along”. This professional identity was intrinsically important to him, even though it had been a good three decades since his retirement.

This was one of those happenstance interactions in which a multitude of life lessons simply overflow the moment.

I know I’m a workaholic. Because I enjoy what I do. But when I do take rare vacations, like many, the primary purpose is to helpfully engrave lasting memories for my family and myself.?One day, we will relive the wonder of sites seen and laugh audibly at now-comical Murphy’s Law mishaps.

But what will be our professional legacies? I don’t think it will be about how much money we made or bequeath. Not the competitors we outflanked or the business bullets we dodged.

While premature (I’d hope!) I’d like mine to be about whether I was able to develop, mentor and shepherd young leaders to be more successful and impactful than myself.

And what will you bring with you when you make that penultimate expedition - over the river and through the woods, albeit in reverse?

Congratulations Sir and Ma’am on a life well planned.?Clearly, you continue to live a life of dignity, on your own terms and have made good decisions along the way. Your health and independence as late octogenarians are beyond impressive.