The Chair of Core Values
He had a chair beside his desk in the den. It was the hardest, most uncomfortable piece of wood a person could sit on. For nearly two decades, that chair, a quiet invitation inside my grandfather’s world, was my everything.
The chair was a place for education - learning about music, as he orchestrated a 15-piece “big band.” For more than 30 years, he wrote and performed the soundtracks of his era. He played not only in banquet halls throughout Canada, but also during the war, in several European towns, often providing entertainment for those in uniform who needed a retreat from their mission. Think of Elvis in GI Blues, minus the hips swaying. Maybe that’s why I love the king of rock n’ roll. My grandfather could read and write music, play more than a dozen instruments, but couldn’t carry a tune to save his life.
There were no arms on this chair, or cushions on the seat for comfort. However, the chair was the place where I would often run after losing a big game or needing a little pick-me-up. My parents divorced when I was two-year-old and while my father, who continues to be an extraordinary role model, never left the scene, I was only able to see him on alternate weekends. I lived in government-assisted housing throughout all parts of Fort Erie with my mother, and it forced my grandfather to be my day-to-day father figure. A role he subtly cherished.
I would sit on that chair for hours watching my grandfather roll his own Export A cigarettes into this little manual contraption. After his death in 1996, I would scrub years of tobacco off his prized mementos and understood what a life of smoking does to your lungs. Understandably, I’m not a smoker.
His chair was also a symbol of history. While never an emotional man, he would often take me back to the years he spent in France, Italy and Germany during the war. A time spent with his wife and two daughters by his side. The fact that my generation has only witnessed war on television and not at home is something I have never taken for granted. My respect for the uniform and love of country was placed on me at a young age and I have certainly tried to pass that appreciation on to my daughter.
I’ve lost a step mother and a birth mother (that's us on the right) over the past six years. The former, after a long struggle with non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma in 2010, the latter, unexpectedly one night due to a suspected aneurysm in 2013. Their departure from my life, in my thirties, has left a profound void in our family, especially having a child. I enjoyed two amazing decades with grandparents by my side. My daughter has lost three grandparents before the age of nine. Why was I so lucky?
My grandfather was my first. His death, despite already being 21, was my first real introduction to losing a loved one. For some reason, I have never truly recovered.
My Gramp was born 100 years ago today in Galt, Ontario (now Cambridge). It’s hard to comprehend having spent nearly half my life now without him. Funny enough, I can still hear him when I watch Coaches Corner, as he bellowed a voice similar to Don Cherry. His lessons live on as I witness my child display great manners and respect for others – and I couldn’t be prouder. I was taught to always remove your hat when entering a house and shake someone’s hand firmly, looking them straight in the eyes. My grandparents lived off a strict budget, even in retirement, because of having to financially support my mother and me. He was able to sneak me five bucks from time-to-time, but I know my grandfather still wrote the gift in his budget.
While I have been blessed to learn from mentors in my field like John Lashway, Derek Strang, Steve Dranitsaris and Michael Downey, many of my core business values came from lessons in that chair.
When I have strayed from the path of business success throughout my career, the sounds of squeaking wood from that chair have straightened me out. Sometimes, it just took a while to really listen again.
With a world moving at speeds almost too quick to keep up with, it’s still important to remember how we got here and what beliefs help shape the decisions we make in the boardroom. Values are not just something to hang on an office wall. They are a way of life.
Happy Birthday Gramp.