A Leadership Lesson from My Dad, the Farmer

My dad, Ed, passed away a couple of weeks ago. It’s still hard for me to believe. He was perhaps one of the finest leaders you've never heard of. It’s kind of strange for me to say, as I never really thought of him as a traditional leader. He was a farmer.

I grew up on a wheat, corn, cattle, and hog farm in very rural Kansas. You might think leadership opportunities are limited in a place where you can still hear yourself think, and where the wind moves the tall grain in golden cascading waves. If you asked him, he would have rejected the label of leader. He had the crew of us five kids and a couple of hired men to manage, but never led a large organization. He shied away from public speaking and limelight of any kind.

Every time I go back home, I come back different - with more perspective, more compassion, more sense of purpose. Of course, this time was different, deeper. I spent the past week with my family, reliving past memories, tracing the arc of our lives back to simple beginnings on the farm with my dad. At his memorial service, the small town church overflowed with friends and family. As I shook their hands and accepted their condolences, I also listened carefully. Each of them had a story to tell of how my dad had shaped their life.

I finally appreciated one of the most powerful and obvious lessons about leadership. We lead by who we are. How we carry ourselves, how we interact with others, how we live – this is the truest communication we can have. It is the purest lesson we will teach, and perhaps the longest lasting. Of course my dad was a leader. He was a pillar of the community and the church we grew up in.

In Silicon Valley, we take great pride in our entrepreneurial spirit. We tend to be mission driven. We want to make an impact. We want to leave the world a better place. I feel that desire deeply – to change the world, to leave a mark. But I didn't learn that from Silicon Valley. I learned that from my dad, Ed.

He never talked about it, he just lived it. Every word and deed was an opportunity for him to lead. Here are three simple ways (among many) I experienced his quiet but powerful leadership.

Clear Values - Know What You Stand For

My dad never wrote down a mission statement for the farm or cataloged our family’s values, but they were incredibly clear by his example. My cousin, who delivered an exceptional eulogy, told this story. As teenagers, he and my brothers had been to the store with my dad to buy some supplies for an upcoming adventure. As he got in the car, he looked over the purchase and realized that the cashier hadn't charged him enough. My cousin was gleeful at the mistake, even though it was only a dollar or two. My father slowed the car, turned to him and said “You’ll need to make that right.” It wasn't a judgment, or a threat. It was a quiet and clear expectation to do the right thing. He wasn't going to do it for you. It was yours to own. My dad held the tension between what was easy and what was right. Over time, I've learned to appreciate that tension as a North Star, an unwritten mission statement.

Create Your Own Luck

My dad used to say “A positive attitude will get you through any situation.” He loved life and loved to laugh. Farming can be incredibly stressful, and a little laughter doesn’t hurt. Each year you try to make the right moves, you put in the long hours, but always living at the mercy of the weather. A farmer famously spends half his life praying for rain, and the other half praying for it to stop. There were many evenings spent looking out our big kitchen window at the sky. Mom would fret and stress about the droughts, the heat, or the hail. Dad was relentlessly positive. No problem was too big. No issue worth worrying too much about. “It’ll be fine. We’ll figure it out.” He always did. He created his own luck, always pressing forward.

This resilience shaped me. I grew up believing I could do anything, be anything I set my mind to. Doctor, engineer, president - sure, why not? I probably have more self-confidence than I’ve earned, but it’s powerful. Whether trying something new or scary, or getting up after being knocked down, that inherited optimism propels me forward.

Hard Work and Excellence Will Be Rewarded

I loved being a kid on the farm. I was free to explore on my dirt bike or roam around with my black lab across a few thousand acres. Being a working teenager on the farm, not so much. During the summers a couple of my friends had jobs in town as lifeguards at the local pool. I was jealous of their tans and their ability to quit at five o’clock. As the youngest of five, I got my share of the manual labor jobs, mostly involving pigs – my nemesis. My work in the beginning was sloppy, careless. My dad would come along and see my progress and say “Is that the best you can do?” That was about as harsh as his language got, but those words cut deeply. It woke something up inside, calling me to do better.

At fourteen, I started driving tractors and trucks and taking on more responsibility. Long hours were just part of the deal. My dad would say “Not teaching a kid how to work is like a form of child abuse.” I started as a lazy and grouchy teenager, trying to shirk as much work as possible, seeking the path of least resistance. By the time I was eighteen, I was able to contribute more meaningfully and was declared “good help”. It was an initiation of sorts. I started working hard because I wanted to instead of feeling forced. When I was finally able to really pull my weight, I felt the tension from my father’s expectations ease, and in its place, I felt pride.

As I share this with you, my dad’s legacy lives on. It’s not limited to the few and insufficient words in this post. If you’re reading this, a part of him is there with you. If you knew Ed, or even if you didn't, I hope some of his story and his values get passed on. He shaped me deeply, just by being who he was.

We each have this same opportunity, regardless of our role, our location, or our station in life. Every action and word has impact. Individually, they will change and shape those around us. Collectively, these actions and words will either pollute or purify, advance or regress civilization. Like a farmer, we'll tend to them. Crafting the chapters of our lives day by day is an incredible leadership opportunity. In the end, this is how we'll be remembered.

Just think of the impact you'll have.