Tough Love, Self-Love: Three Lessons from My Father

“If we stand tall, it is because we stand on the shoulders of many ancestors.”—African proverb

As Father’s Day approaches, I’ve been contemplating this African proverb. Our ancestors forge the way for us, sculpting our lives, encouraging us, challenging us, and providing strong role models. They give us a foundation for building our lives.

My dad, James “Jim” Cotton, made a powerful impact on my life, laying a foundation for how I’ve worked, lived, and raised my children. A strict disciplinarian who expected a lot from me, Dad also had a big heart. In celebration of Father’s Day, here are a few stories and life lessons from Jim Cotton that guide me to this day.

Lesson 1: Work Hard?

My dad and his twin brother, Ardis, were born in Saco, Alabama (about 13 miles northeast of Troy) in 1925. After serving as a sergeant in the army, my dad graduated from college with a mathematics degree. He had many careers in his life, including working as a math teacher and school principal. In the early 1950s, seeking new opportunities, he moved to California. He lived with his older sister, Eulalia, in Los Angeles for a few months, then returned to Alabama to marry my mom, Gigi, and bring her out west, too.??

As a Southern man, my dad was accustomed to children being deferential to teachers. That wasn’t the case in LA. Dad used to say, “If I taught here, I’d end up in jail.” He decided to learn a trade. In 1952, he was hired as one of Los Angeles County’s first African-American electricians working in what's now LAC/USC Medical Center. An entrepreneur, he also operated his own car wash and electrical service business on the side. On weekends, he went to people’s homes to install lights and fixtures, among other things.?

I was born and grew up in LA, but my dad made sure I turned out different than the kids who talked back at school. One Saturday, when I was about 10 years old, as I watched cartoons in front of the TV, my dad stopped home to pick up some supplies he’d forgotten. When he saw me sitting there in my pajamas eating sugary cereal at 11 a.m., he said, “No, this is not going to work! You’re coming with me.” From that day on, every Saturday, I went to work. Dad taught me how to install plugs and crawl under houses. While tagging along all those years, I got to witness Dad’s generosity as well as his work ethic. He often did electrical work for people who didn’t have the money to pay him. I remember him saying, “That’s OK. You do nice things for people, and sometimes you get things back.”

My dad was big on follow-through. At our house, I always had chores to do. We had a fireplace, which my dad had added on to our house, and every winter day, it was my job to bring logs and stacks of wood inside so he could start a fire at night. I also polished shoes.?

My dad set high expectations. There was no talking back, and when it came to grades, getting a C in my house was like getting an F. It’s clear where my tendency toward perfectionism comes from! With my own kids, April and Jesse, I’ve tried to set high expectations, too. Both my kids graduated from college and have successful careers. Jesse is a minister and package/logistics driver, and April works in entertainment engagement programming.

Lesson 2: Make Good Investments

When I was 22 years old, after working my first job in Santa Monica, I wanted to make a change and move back home for a while. I asked my mom about it, and she said, “You’d better ask your father.” Before I went to Dad, I buttered him up and did all my childhood chores — brought in wood, polished shoes — but he was unmoved. He just said: “Move home? When you left, I broke your plate. You don’t have a home. Your mother and I have a home; this is our home. If you move in, you need to work, pay rent, do chores and go back to school. If you break any one of those conditions, I’m going to kick you out.”

I met my dad’s conditions: I worked and went to graduate school, and each month, I paid $500 in rent and saved another $500. I even had to show my dad my passbook savings account. When I graduated with my MBA at 25, my dad returned the rent money with another condition: I had to use it to buy a piece of property. I had enough for a down payment on a duplex. My dad was helping me fix it up at the time of his unexpected death. He passed away due to congestive heart failure at 61, one year younger than my age now.??

In 1989, when my mom gave me an inheritance after Dad’s death, I bought a house in the View Park section of LA, where my Dad’s physician brother, Sam, lived. I still own that house, and, needless to say, the value has increased exponentially. I plan on retiring there someday.

My dad had taught me important lessons about investing in property, investing in myself, and investing in others. His guidance, and his investment in me, made a tremendous impact on my life. Dad used to say, “Be a parent first and a friend second.” I’m so grateful to him for being the parent he was and helping me make the right choices. I’ve tried to pass along his style of mentoring to others, including my own kids, younger relatives, and kids I’ve adopted or assisted throughout my life.?

Lesson 3: Set Boundaries

My dad persevered in Los Angeles despite significant odds. When he moved to LA in the ’50s, people used to say “LA” stood for “Lower Alabama.” Many people from the south migrated to LA at that time. Segregation was in full swing, the police force was small, and people treated you differently if you were Black and male. My dad learned and taught me that if you got stopped by police, it was important to make sure your hands were at 10 and 2 on the steering wheel and to speak deferentially to the officers.

Being raised in a structured environment provided boundaries that helped me succeed in LA and beyond. My dad taught me it’s important to love and support your kids but also to prepare them for real life. Growing up in an environment where Black people don’t get second chances made discipline — and perfection — even more important.?

For my dad, excellence was an expectation. Once, after I’d been in a car accident and got a little banged up, his response was: “So you let somebody hit you?” Dad also expected me to become a doctor like my uncle. The day I decided not to go to med school was not a good day in the Cotton household! My dad had a point based on his life experience. In his day, white-collar career paths for Black people included becoming teachers, ministers, and doctors. There was no such thing as a successful Black businessman.

My dad never got to see me succeed in the pharma field after defying his expectations. But, when I was 34, my uncle Sam came to visit me in Chicago while I was a vice president at Baxter. That was gratifying.

My dad taught me to respect boundaries and provide guardrails, and I’ve learned to take his wisdom even further. I realized along the way that I often took things too literally, and my relentless drive to be perfect made me unapproachable. Now I’m comfortable opening up, showing grace, and allowing people to make mistakes.

Looking back, I can see that, as strict as my dad could be, he had a soft side, too. He took me on fishing and camping trips on the Salton Sea. We traveled with my mom to the Caribbean, Mexico, and Europe. My parents worked hard and saved in the right way so they could prioritize my needs, including giving me exposure to the world. Later in my life, those experiences gave me confidence. When I took on my first role with international responsibilities, I knew how to conduct myself.

I’ve tried to do the same for my own kids. I hope that April and Jesse see my Dad’s spirit in me — and something more. Jim Cotton’s love lives on in them and in my grandkids, Amira, Maiya, Dougie, and Little Jesse. Also, congratulations to Sam Cotton, Jr. (my uncle's son) on the birth of his first son yesterday!

Happy Father’s Day! Here’s to all the biological dads, stepdads, granddads, godfathers, and father figures who have given us so much. May we stand on the shoulders of our ancestors, honoring all they’ve taught us … and forging our own way.