Life Lessons from a "Larger than Life Guy"

"He was a larger than life guy. Always welcoming and hilarious."

That was the text I received from a good friend of mine the other day after he heard about my dad's passing. As short and simple as it sounds, that text summed up my dad in so many ways. I learned a lot from him and I thought I'd share some of those lessons as I reflect on his life.

Walter "Lefty" Madden, father of 9, grandfather of 25, and husband to Judy for 59 years, died on February 18. Yesterday would have been his 82nd birthday. As much as my family and I are grieving right now, I'm beyond grateful that we had so many years with an amazing father, and one hell of a character. Here are just a few of the lessons he taught me that apply to leading people and to life in general.

Never take yourself too seriously. While my dad was an accomplished attorney and carried a heavy weight of responsibilities raising a large family, he never took himself too seriously. In fact, if Lefty ran across someone who thought a bit too highly of themselves, you were likely to hear:

"If that guy took a good laxative, he'd disappear."

My dad was humble, never referencing his own accomplishments. Most people voted president of their high school class (in my dad's case, the rank of Cadet Colonel) or accepted into Harvard might mention at least one those little tidbits every now and then. And for good reason -- they are impressive accomplishments! Not my dad. I must have been in my early 30's when I first learned of either of those facts, and not from him, of course. He went a different route for college, as he often did in life, and never let the expectations of others define his path. He was going to chart his own path, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

Treat everyone as though they are special. Because they are. Whenever we walked into an office, restaurant, or really anywhere, we could count on my dad striking up a conversation with the receptionist, the cleaning person, the server, or literally anyone we ran into. But not only that, my dad genuinely wanted to learn about them -- their family, where they were from, where they went to school. He'd continue asking questions until he could make a connection to something. At the very least, Lefty would be able to recall their school mascot, and if he was in a particularly good mood, he'd start singing their college fight song. The point was, when they walked way from that conversation, it was something they would not soon forget. They walked away feeling special, because they were.

Channel your inner Mark Twain. My dad never wasted an opportunity to entertain others, or at least himself, with words. He relished the chance to use humor and metaphors to communicate even the simplest of concepts. Instead of saying something smelled bad, you might have heard Lefty declare,

"That smells like the east end of a west-bound mule!"

With two or three of us in high school at any given time growing up, my dad took every opportunity to entertain himself when answering phone calls from friends. While we'd usually try to answer the landline house phone before Lefty picked up, he'd often beat us to it. And when he did, it was of course time for a little fun. Those calls would usually start off something like this:

Caller: "Hi is Megan home?"

Lefty: "Yes she is and thanks for checking!"

Silence... Confusion... (Most callers hung up at this point)

Caller: "Uh...Uhm... can I speak with her??"

Lefty: "Oh you want to speak with her!? Well why didn't you say so..."

My dad devoured every Mark Twain book there ever was. As an attorney, he would often inject Twain-style humor into his arguments during a trial. In one particular closing argument involving an insurance company, my dad quipped,

"Sure, you're in good hands with Allstate, you just may not like where their hands are."

Give freely. Whether it was taking on a client who did not have the means to pay, or spending hours coaching a young athlete on the art of a foul shot, my dad was always a giving person. He was constantly paying it forward before that was even a phrase. It was just part of his being, and it never waivered. One day after school I noticed someone in our backyard taking measurements. I soon realized it was one of my dad's clients. He continued in our backyard for the next couple weeks, and soon we had a new deck. It was clear to me that my dad drew energy from helping people who lacked the resources to stand up to a company that wronged them in some way. We saw this time and again, and it's another lesson that has stayed with me to this day.

My dad lived a long life, and there is no question he lived it fully. He left a deep impression on me and my siblings, my wife Emily, and our three kids. There will never be another Lefty Madden, but you can bet I'm doing my best to continue his life lessons in my own way. Thank you for indulging me by reading this somewhat rambling post, and if you're interested in learning a bit more about this larger than life family man, go check out his obituary