Today I bury the greatest man I have ever known.

I’m afraid I don’t have anything more to say today, so I would like to take a rare turn and share the poem that my father asked me to read at his funeral. I will honor his wish today. It’s a good poem.

What is Dying? by Charles Henry Brent

What is dying?
I am standing on the seashore.
A ship sails to the morning breeze and starts for the ocean.
She is an object and I stand watching her
Till at last she fades from the horizon,
And someone at my side says, “She is gone!” Gone where?
Gone from my sight, that is all;
She is just as large in the masts, hull and spars as she was when I saw her,
And just as able to bear her load of living freight to its destination.
The diminished size and total loss of sight is in me, not in her;
And just at the moment when someone at my side says, “She is gone”,
There are others who are watching her coming,
And other voices take up a glad shout,
“There she comes” – and that is dying.

My father was one of the most talented people you’d ever meet. He could do a thousand things. If you expressed any wonder at all at his myriad talents, his response was the same: “anyone can do it.”

This wasn’t humility, false or otherwise. He truly believed anyone could do anything. Virtually all of his skills were self-taught; he had little in the way of formal education and I’m not sure he ever opened an instruction manual in his life. But he would listen to people, quite happily – especially if they were trying to teach something.

There was always someone trying to teach something, he would tell me. All you had to do was listen and try it. You could probably do it. He loved Bob Ross; many homes in our family are adorned with paintings my father did while following Ross’s directions.

Just pick it up, whatever it is. The paintbrush, the guitar, the hammer. Use your hands to find the tools, your eyes to watch what you’re doing, and your ears to listen for people trying to teach. You don’t need more than that, and you can do anything. And anyone can do it.

You can raise the floor without lowering the ceiling. When I was in high school, I remember gym class being a massive disappointment. I went to a tiny middle school (we didn’t even have a cafeteria; we ate at our desks in the classroom), and I was excited about going to the larger high school that served several towns (because our town was too small to have one). One of the things I was excited about was actual physical training.

In every movie I’d ever seen about high school, gym class was a grueling boot camp of rope-climbing, push-ups, stuff like that. Despite the negative picture this was meant to paint, I was amped for that stuff. I wanted the physical challenge!

Instead, we stood around and played the laziest games of frisbee imaginable. It was a joke; it was 45 minutes of “activity” that was only physical in the loosest possible sense. No one ever so much as broke a sweat. At one point I finally asked about it – why was our “phys ed” so lazy and poor?

The roundabout answer I received was that people complained about the more grueling stuff, so it was removed from the curriculum. At one point they did make the kids run laps, lift weights, climb ropes, and all that good stuff. But the kids who needed it most were also most likely to complain about it and eventually, the school caved. Now nothing more than gently tossing around a frisbee was ever asked of anyone.

Now, I actually don’t care about that. I don’t care at all about what other people do – I have zero opinion on what schools make kids do, and I didn’t then, either. What I cared about was that in the process of lowering the standards of physical education for everyone, they also lowered the ceiling of what was possible. It wasn’t important to me that the class wasn’t forced to lift weights and climb ropes. What was important to me was that I wasn’t allowed to. I had to stand around and throw the frisbee with everyone else. We had some of that stuff – a weight room at least, even if the rope was long gone – but you couldn’t use it unsupervised, which in practical application meant it never got used. So instead of using my allotted 45 minutes per day on things that would actually have improved my physical health (not to mention enjoyment!), I had to spend 45 minutes of pure horrified boredom.

There may come a time when you, as an individual, have to decide on the standards for a group. You may have some incentive to lower them, and I won’t judge you for it. But make sure that when you have people who actually want to go above the bare minimum for those standards, you let them. Institutional boredom is a thing – but let people escape from it.

Both hope and despair have weight. They are both difficult to carry. They are anchors that attach you to something, either way. I think that’s why apathy gets attractive to some people – for better or ill, it weighs less than the other two options.

The more weight you give to hope or despair, the more easily it can tip over into the other. Balance is difficult when you’re trying to put everything on one side.

Maybe “apathy” is the wrong framing. There can be healthy ways of detaching yourself from expectations, good or bad. A noble stoicism can be freeing. But putting down weight is sometimes as hard as carrying it.

Your professional reputation is the source of many, if not most of your professional opportunities. What people know about you and expect from you can be a huge boon to your career advancement. Few would argue that point, but fewer still really understand how professional reputation works or how to improve it.

Your professional reputation comes in three levels. Your “Level One” reputation is your reputation among the people you work with directly every day. Your immediate team of co-workers and peers, plus any managers and/or direct reports. In other words, the people that interact with you very regularly, and have first-hand knowledge of your performance.

Your “Level Two” reputation is your reputation among your entire company. For a very small company, levels one and two may have 100% overlap, but most of the time they don’t. Most of the time, there are plenty of people in your organization that have never met you. Some might not even have heard of you.

Your “Level Three” reputation is your reputation among your entire industry, or even ecosystem of related industries. People outside your organization, whether they work for competitors, vendors, clients, etc.

Most people think that in order to have a good professional reputation, they need to do good work and not be a jerk. That’s true only of Level One. Your Level One reputation is easy to manage – do a good job and be nice, and your immediate peers will probably like you. But that circle is also the circle that’s the least helpful to you in terms of your career advancement. That circle won’t contain very many new opportunities for you, and if you do switch roles, exactly zero of that reputation will be relevant. The new Level One group won’t know you, and you’ve started over.

Your real “career security” comes from Levels Two & Three, but those take work! You still have to do a good job and be nice, but you also have to advertise. You have to talk to people, broadcast what you’re doing. This doesn’t have to be some slick marketing campaign. Essentially, you have to just extend the visibility and awareness of you “doing a good job and being nice” to a larger circle.

The easiest way to do that is to just… do it. Be nice to a larger group of people, and do good work that can benefit a larger group as well. Did you design a new system that helps your team save some time on their job? Awesome – share it a little wider. Give it to people you don’t work with. You don’t have to “sell” it. You don’t have to convince anyone it’s great. But just offering it is a wonderful way to improve your reputations in Levels Two & Three.

I do this all the time. Probably half or more of these blog entries came from conversations I had in my own “Level One.” Upon realizing that the conversation was helpful, I opt to share it a little wider. It’s not slavering self-aggrandizement. It’s just me taking the same niceness and diligence I used with one person and spreading it around to benefit others.

You can do it too – and you should.

Woke up today. Gold star.

Worked. Breathed. One step in front of the other. Gold star.

Moved something. Talked some. Gold star.

The mountain never gets taller. It’s as tall as it’s ever been, or will ever be. Only you can change. You can climb a lot or you can climb a little, but you still climbed.

Gold star.

Virtually no one has a single, unifying desire. Single-mindedness is rare in humans even in short bursts; it’s practically fictional as a permanent state of being. At any given time, you probably have a half-dozen conflicting desires, some louder than others. A few may be very fleeting, but a good number may be pretty permanent features of your psyche.

The thing is, most of your desires would be disastrous if you achieved them 100% to the exclusion of all your others. For instance, one of your desires (unless you are very strange, biologically speaking) is to Stay Safe From Harm. This is a deep desire for most people, fundamental to our existence. That desire, if achieved fully, would ruin your life.

Another desire you may have is Bury All Your Rivals. Sure, but you probably wouldn’t have a good life for very long if you actually did that directly. Those two desires counteract each other – one desire says “killing my rivals and taking their resources would benefit me!” Another says “if we do that, we will be much less safe, for our society will punish us.”

Think of yourself as the leader of a nation, and each strong desire as a general in your military. You have to listen to them. You need their input. They provide wisdom and motivation. But you have to constantly play them against one another, maintaining the balance so no single one of them takes over.

Very rarely can you win against one directly. Sadly, they are often stronger than pure reason. So if General Stay-Safe-From-Harm tells you not to do something, you probably won’t be able to convince him to let you on your own. You’ll have to employ General Desire-For-Resources, who is equally influential. You can tip the scales, break the tie.

And that’s what you have to do, day after day. Don’t lament the existence of these generals. They try to push and pull you, but only because they believe that their way is the best way for you to thrive. If you can keep them in check, they’re a formidable force. If you let them rule you, your empire will fall to ruin.

Humans, as a general rule, won’t take action on a single data point. A certain critical mass of influence has to build up in order to shake you from inaction. People who have spent any time in sales or marketing know this; people almost never buy from the first contact. The general rule is that you have to hear a positive mention of something six times before you’ll do anything.

That’s why billboards and TV commercials and stuff are important, even when they don’t seem to be selling anything directly. Lots of advertising is just meant to be funny or entertaining so that it gets shared widely and becomes “one of the six” for a large number of people. You don’t see a billboard and immediately order the product. But if you happen to see an appealing product in a store, you’re much more likely to buy it if you’ve had a positive encounter with the idea of that product at least five times prior.

The thing is, this is true of more than just advertisements to buy stuff. This is true of all sorts of concepts and ideas that may be very beneficial to you. Lots of study into evolutionary psychology can tell you why humans require this many touchpoints to move on a topic, but the important thing to remember is that you can choose to be different. And doing so – in certain circumstances – is to your tremendous benefit.

Many people, at various points in their lives, find themselves “in a rut.” They want to find a new place to live, they want to find a new job, they want to meet new people, they want to explore new hobbies. In other words, they want change. Well, the whole “six touchpoints” thing is absolutely insulation against change! It’s a defense mechanism designed to keep you safe and not do anything unless you’re sure enough of your peers have survived it and established that it’s a good idea. That might serve you well in some instances, but it’s really terrible friction when you’re deliberately trying to explore new things. And in the modern world, those things probably won’t kill you, harm you, or make you a pariah. They’re probably just interesting!

So lower your defenses. When you’re in “exploring mode,” make it a point to take suggestions. If someone says, “you should listen to this podcast, it’s really cool” – don’t wait for 5 other people to say the same thing to you before you do it. Do it right away! What have you got to lose, 20 minutes? You’re not about to be the first person in history to eat a particular berry; the risk is low.

Don’t be resistant to influence when you want to be influenced. Let the world open doors for you and explore a bit. When you find a new thing to care about, you can always pause for a while. But don’t let the pause be automatic while you yearn for movement.

I am very pro-children. I love mine, of course – I have three, and am often a little jealous of families with even more. But I am also what people call “good with kids” in general, which usually just means my patience level is much higher than the average. Truth be told, I love the antics and adventures of kids and pretty much never tire of them. Even the burdensome chores are mostly a source of quiet pride and simple joy for me.

Not everyone feels this way, and that’s just fine. I think children are the great gift you can give to the world, but there are many ways to give that gift. Here are a few:

1. If you want kids, have them. Have many. They are joyous. Many people have one kid and the change of becoming a parent sort of scares them off from having another, but I promise you – the first is absolutely the hardest. The change from 0 kids to 1 kid is the single biggest change you will ever experience. The change from 1 kids to 2 is nothing in comparison, and the change from 2 kids to 3 is barely noticable in terms of lifestyle adjustment. I had my third child less than two years after my second – in terms of “total time” as a parent, that means I added less than 2 years total before all of my kids are adults, yet I got to add an entire extra wonderful person’s worth of joy to my life. That’s a great deal.
2. If you’re not sure if you want kids – or more accurately, you do want them but you’re nervous about the costs or responsibilities – have them. Kids are great, the costs are overblown, and the benefits are massively understated. Most of what people think are the “costs” of having kids are actually the costs of posting on social media and keeping up with the joneses. You don’t have to do that stuff. The actual cost of rearing children is much less than you imagine, once you realize how unimportant many things are. They need food, but even nutritious food is very cheap if you don’t care about name brands and stuff like that. They need clothes, but they don’t need new clothes (and buying new anything for people who change size every six months is really foolish). There are a few pieces of safety equipment that you’ll need (like car seats) that are not very expensive nor frequent. Beyond that, they just need a ton of your love.
3. If you don’t want kids – don’t have them. Don’t! I will never be one of those people who tries to change folks’ minds about having kids if they actually don’t want them. But if you don’t want kids, you can still absolutely help create a world that embraces them. Be the awesome crazy aunt that steals away your sibling’s kids for a day for adventures. Be the incredible friend that remembers their friends’ kids’ birthdays and gives them a small trinket. When you go somewhere with a parking lot, deliberately park farther away than you need to if you’re a childless, able-bodied adult. Don’t roll your eyes and complain when you hear a kid making noise in a restaurant. Smile at kids when you see them. Smile at their parents. Help build communities where children are welcome additions, whether you want to have them yourself or not.

Someday, when you are old, there will only be two possible categories of people to take care of you: your children, or other people’s children. Either way, the kid crying on the airplane now is the kid that will give you your meds someday. The world will turn on the next generation, so invest a little kindness in them now, no matter how you choose to be related to them.

My father is gone.

He was mythic. He was larger than life. To say he died before his time would be true, but a more accurate way of putting it would be to say that no time would have been enough, no world enough to contain him. I could make these entries entirely about the stories and legends of his life and I would never run out.

He did more, felt more, knew more. He simply was more than other humans; I’m not sure he was ever the same species as the rest of us. He was this great hub of all the best things in life – knowledge, laughter, music, and creation flowed both to and from him in volumes an order of magnitude more than what most people experience.

His personal library of music had over 100,000 songs. He could play any instrument. He could fix any machine, operate any vehicle. He would go to rummage sales at libraries and buy a box of a hundred books for a few dollars, and by the next month’s sale, he’d have read them all. He had visited every state, had lived in a dozen or more. He had lived for months simply on the road. He didn’t just adventure; he was adventure.

He was smart, and he was noble, and he valued honor and compassion. Friends asked him to be the best man at their wedding or the godfather of their children more than a dozen times each. People valued his wisdom and his counsel. You definitely wanted him on your side, no matter what you were facing. And he would gladly face it with you.

I could not have asked for more in a father. He taught me so much, cared about me so much. He took pride in me, guided me, shielded me when it was necessary and shoved me into danger and adventure all the rest of the time. He cared deeply about everything I did, showed me love and affection, and treated me as an equal – though not in ten lifetimes of trying could I become one to him. If I accomplish enough to measure his shadow I will be a great man. And if I do, it will be because of the wonderful father I had. There are a great many advantages that one can be born with, but none could compare to having him as my dad.

They don’t make ’em like Bill Roccia anymore. To be honest, I don’t think they ever did. He was a fluke, a miracle, a once-per-universe sort of deal. We shall not meet his kind again in this world, but when you reach the next, he’ll be easy to find. Just look for the life of the party.