Behind the Mike

In today’s world, I constantly bump into grandparents who are now the primary caregivers of their grandchildren. For a variety of reasons, parents have departed the scene, and it now falls to those who often are the only alternative for the child anyway.

Still, it breaks my heart to see a grandchild who has no relationship with a mother or a father. I can’t even imagine how I would feel if I were in their situation because I had two loving parents. Nevertheless, my parents raised 11 children and I knew they were always there… and yet, they weren’t.

When your father holds down two jobs to make ends meet and your mother is busy making babies, feeding, clothing, cooking and raising them, there isn’t a lot of quality time to spread around with each child. While those of us who come from large families were not officially “orphaned” in the truest definition of the word, metaphorically we were.

Parenting in our home, for me at least, fell to my oldest sister Mary. She was my mentor, my role model, my coach and my teacher, not by design but rather by default. It was not a job she sought out, but she accepted her role with grace and dignity as the oldest child in the family.

I won’t lie; when she left to join the convent after her senior year I was devastated. I was still in high school and I wanted and needed her guidance, as did many of my other brothers and sisters. No, we were not “orphaned” in the truest sense, but for the second time in my life, I felt I was.

Since I never had the one-on-one attention from my parents, the maternal aspect of that job fell to Mary. The paternal role was vicariously assumed by my uncles, Arthur and Eli Mack, who were always checking behind me at every turn, particularly in sports. Neither of my parents ever saw me play an athletic event. Neither was present when I won the South Carolina state oratorical speech contest. They simply did not have the time or the wherewithal to do this for 11 children.

Like the grandchild of my friends who are raising her, I accepted that as “the way it was.” But just like that beautiful child, I felt the pain of an absence of parental input and guidance.

Nearly four million children are being raised by grandparents today, according the government statistics. Two million others live with their grandparents, putting three generations all under the same roof.

Parenting is more than just putting food on the table and a roof over a child’s head. It’s about taking an active role in a child’s life. Admittedly, my wife Christine assumed most of that role in my immediate family as I traveled around the world giving speeches when my children were young. Everything fell to her and I openly give her full credit for raising Cory, Jason and Christopher.

Christine is a nurse by profession but was a stay-at-home mom by design. We were blessed that we could do that in our home, but in today’s world, many loving parents both have to work to make ends meet. Even with the best of circumstances, parenting is diluted a bit by that process. Still, families have to cope, no matter the circumstances.

Grandparents often fill that void, pinch hitting after school until mom and dad get home. Many times, those quality moments they get with their grandchildren make all the difference in the world.

Parenting by any definition is a noble cause that is often not fully appreciated, whether the role is being fulfilled by parents, step-parents, grandparents or those who adopt children.

Another set of grandparents were sharing with me recently their dilemma about two grandsons. One is a hard-charging, state ranked wrestler who takes every defeat personally. The other grandson is younger and lacks the killer instinct of his sibling. He’s just as happy competing and accepts that role nicely. These kids are blessed to not only have caring parents but caring grandparents in their lives.

I salute anyone and everyone who accepts the role of raising a child.

I am a blessed man. I am the father of three terrific sons, one of whom is a father himself, and a very good one I might add. I’d like to take the credit, but I suspect I serve more as a good “bad role model.” My wife, Christine, deserves all the credit for the goodness in each of my sons.

For so many years, I was away selling insurance or giving speeches, so Christine had to do double duty as a father and a mother. When I would be gone speaking for two weeks at a time, I would write daily to my sons. I always sent the notes to their teacher at school. The teachers would keep a map on the wall and would follow my movement and discuss geography and other stuff.

The notes told them a little about the city I was in and the group to which I was speaking that particular day. Occasionally something odd would happen and tell them about that as well.
Like the time I fell off a stage in Orlando while speaking to the National Association of REALTORS. And the time I was speaking in Atlanta to Sales & Marketing International. The stage actually folded up on me with me right in the middle of it. And then there was the speech in the New Orleans Super Dome where a streaker walked across my stage. Well, to be fair, I didn’t share every story with them.

But it wasn’t always about stuff that had gone wrong. Many of the notes told of interesting people with whom I was sharing a platform that day or interesting people who were in my audience and what they did for a living- everything from NASA astronauts on the east coast to shrinks in Denver to cattlemen in Canada.

I plan to share the same notes with my beautiful granddaughters, Ashley and Ava, when they start school. Only now, I can e-mail their teachers and can send pictures and video. In the old days, it was all snail-mail. Don’t you just love technology?

Father’s Day was not always good for me because I was often away. I was fortunate to be a member of the Million Dollar Round Table in the insurance industry. They always held their annual meetings on the week of Father’s Day. So I missed quite a few of those celebrations.

Occasionally, MDRT would have a “Family Time” meeting, allowing families to tag along on the trips to the city where the meeting was being held. They would select cities like Orlando for those meetings, which is a great family destination.

When my kids were small, I used to go into their rooms to wake them in the mornings for school when I was in town. I’d take my trusty flash light and my wooden train horn. I’d flash the light in their eyes, blow the horn and yell “train!” I’m my kid’s nightmare!

We always had our kids on commission. In fact, I charged them $228 to stay in our home, which covered the costs of their insurance (which I sold them), some money for their college education and food and housing costs. We never believed in allowances.

Our allowance system was simple. If there’s enough food left over, you get to eat. If there’s an empty bed, you get to sleep. Period. You pay to live here and you pay your way to stay.
They had checking accounts from as early as they could write checks and they were required to manage their own money.

One month, Cory and Jason came to me and announced that they didn’t have enough money in their checking account to pay their bills that month. So I introduced the concept of a loan. “For every dollar you’re short this month, I’ll loan you a dollar to make up the difference.” I could see them elbowing one another. “This loan thingie is a good thing. Where has it been all our life?”

“But I have to charge you interest,” I added. “For every dollar I loan you, you have to pay me $2 back!” One percent. (Okay, so I failed math).

“Dad, you can’t charge rates like that!” Watch me. And I require collateral. “What’s collateral?” they asked. “Your bike.” I had to repossess a bike. Now they know about checking accounts, loans, collateral, repossessions and interest rates.

I admit I could have been a better father and present more often, but these were my gifts to my sons. What were yours”