The wisest person I ever met in my life was a third-grade dropout.
Why is this and 'drop out' in the same sentence as rather oxymoronic? Like jumbo shrimp.
And it's not oxymoronic for me to say third grade and drop out.
That third grade dropout, the wisest person I ever met in my life who taught me to combine knowledge and wisdom to make an impact, was my father.
A simple cook.
Left school in the third grade to help out on the family farm.
But just because he left school doesn't mean his education stopped.
Mark Twain once said, "I've never allowed my schooling to get in the way of my education."
My father taught himself how to read, taught himself how to write.
Decided in the midst of Jim Crowism, as America was breathing the last gasp of the Civil War, my father decided he was going to stand and be a man.
Not a black man, not a brown man, not a white man, but a man.
He literally challenged himself to be the best that he could all the days of his life.
A third-grade dropout daddy who was quoting Michelangelo saying to us boys,
"I won't have a problem if you aim high and miss, but I'm gonna have a real issue if you aim low and hit."
A country mother quoting Henry Ford saying,
"If you think you can or if you think you can't, you're right."
I learned simple lessons like these.
Son, "You'd rather be an hour early than a minute late."
We never knew what time it was at my house cause the clocks were always ahead.
My mother said for nearly 30 years my father left the house at 3:45 in the morning.
One day she asked him, "Why daddy?"
He said, "Maybe one of my boys will catch me in the act of excellence."
I want to share two things with you.
Aristotle said you are what you repeatedly do, therefore excellence ought to be a habit not an act.
Don't ever forget that.
I know you're tough, but always remember to be kind.
Never embarrass Mama.
Yeah, if Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy. If Daddy ain't happy, don't nobody care.
Next lesson, a lesson from a cook over there in the galley.
Son, make sure your servant's towel is bigger than your ego.
Ego is the anesthesia that deadens the pain of stupidity.
Pride is the burden of a foolish person.
John Wooden coached basketball at UCLA for a living, but his calling was to impact people.
And with all those national championships, guess what he was found doing in the middle of the week?
Going into the cupboard, grabbing a broom, and sweeping his own gym floor.
You want to make an impact? Find your broom.
Son, you're gonna do a job, do it right.
I've always been told how average I can be. Always been criticized about being average.
But I want to tell you something.
I stand here before you, not listening to those words, but telling myself every single day to shoot for the stars, to be the best that I can be.
Good enough isn't good enough if it can be better. And better isn't good enough if it can be best.
Let me close with a very personal story that I think will bring all this into focus.
Wisdom will come to you in the unlikeliest of sources, a lot of times through failure.
When you hit rock bottom, remember this:
While you're struggling, rock bottom can also be a great foundation on which to build and on which to grow.
I'm not worried that you'll be successful. I'm worried that you won't fail from time to time.
The person that gets up off the canvas and keeps growing, that's the person that will continue to grow their influence.
Back in the 70s, let me introduce you to someone.
I met the finest woman I'd ever met in my life.
Trina Williams from Lompoc, California.
We go on a second date, and a third date.
My father meets her, pulls me to the side and says, "Is she psycho?"
But anyway, we go together for a year, two years, three years, four years.
By now Trina's a senior in college. I'm still a freshman, but I'm working some things out.
We get married, we have a few children, our lives are great.
One day Trina finds a lump in her left breast. Breast cancer.
Six years after that diagnosis, me and my two little boys walked up to Mommy's casket.
For two years my heart didn't beat.
If it wasn't for my faith in God, I wouldn't be standing here today.
If it wasn't for those two little boys, there'd have been no reason for which to go on.
That was rock bottom.
You know what sustained me?
The wisdom of a third-grade dropout. The wisdom of a simple cook.
Right at the casket, I saw my dad cry. That was his daughter.
And my father shared three words with me that changed my life right there at the casket.
He said, "Son, just stand."
You keep standing.
No matter how rough the sea, you keep standing. And I'm not talking about just water.
You keep standing.
No matter what, you don't give up.
And as clearly as I'm talking to you today, these were some of her last words to me.
She looked me in the eye and she said, "It doesn't matter to me any longer how long I live. What matters to me most is how I live."
I ask you one question.
A question that I was asked all my life by a third-grade dropout.
How you livin'?
Every day ask yourself that question.
How you livin'?
Here's what a cook would suggest.
You to live this way: that you would not judge.
That you would show up early.
That you'd be kind.
That you'd make sure that servant's towel is huge and used.
That if you're gonna do something, you do it the right way.
That cook would tell you this: that it's never wrong to do the right thing.
That how you do anything is how you do everything.
And in that way, you will grow your influence to make an impact.
In that way, you will honor all those who have gone before you who have invested in you.
