A lesson from the heart

I knew at an early age that I didn’t want to work in the local steel mill, become a farm worker, or enlist in the military — the careers that many of my classmates in my small rural high school chose. They were all fine pursuits, but I figured out that my interests lie elsewhere. My ticket out of the rural area where I grew up was going to be getting an education.

I poured my energy into earning good grades and admission into college. So, when I struggled with Calculus and Physics in high school, the air in my balloon started leaking out. Pfft.

In my senior year, I worried that poor grades in those two classes would hurt my chances of admission and certainly wreck my chances of getting any significant scholarship money. My parents weren’t going to be to help with college. Pfft.

I wasn’t going to be able to pay for college on my own. Pfft.

I saw my dreams slipping out of my grasp — even before my life really got started — and being punished for the rest of my life with limited financial opportunities and a job that I hated with every bone in my body.

Burning the midnight oil

I threw myself into my studies with the hopes of turning around my prospects. If I would’ve been honest with myself, I would’ve realized that my fears were playing tricks on me. I thought that if I couldn’t survive Calculus and Physics in high school — even if I had no plans to pursue a career in Science or Engineering — I might not be able to cut it in the Big Leagues. I worried that I might not be all that smart to begin with and would get “eaten alive and would be sent home with my tail between my legs.”

Late one night, at my most anxious and vulnerable, my mother came into my room. She brought me a glass of soda and several Oreo cookies. I don’t remember telling her, but she must have known that I was doubting myself and feeling like an impostor. She begged me to get some sleep. When I protested, she gave me a hug and told me how proud she was of me. Next, she reminded me that all I could do was my best.

I’m not sure what was different about the moment. My mother had only an eighth-grade education. She never had the educational opportunities I did. Despite that, she was always the one with a hug and a “you’ll get ’em next time” comment. She had passed along similar advice countless times in the past. For whatever reason, her message this time hit home. A part of me broke.

I started to shake all over. Finally, I fell into her arms in a ball of tears. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. The dam had collapsed. The anxiety and internal pressure that I had been putting on myself to perform at the highest level rushed out, seemingly coming out from every pore.

My mother took it all in and just kept telling me that she loved me and was proud of me. Yes, there were lots of unknowns but if I wanted something bad enough, I would figure things out. We hugged and sat together for a long time until I felt better.

Lessons that mean the most

I’ve been thinking a lot about the lessons that my parents instilled in me. When asked the same question, Actor Sam Neill, famous for Jurassic Park, The Hunt For Red October and a slew of other movies, talked about the time his mother helped “pull himself together.” Like Neill, my mother’s caring wisdom has never left me.

My mother was the first to recognize my softer, sensitive side. My father taught me the importance of doing the right thing. He wasn’t one for taking any short cuts. You worked hard until the bell rang and you worked some more.

We pick up a lot over the years from friends, coworkers, and acquaintances. Our parents have a profound effect on us too. Thanks Mom and Dad.