Today marks the fifth of my Dad's birthdays since he left this earth. He was the hardest worker I've ever known. He died in January of 2022 from ALS, a brutal, brutal disease.
His career began and ended in the oil and gas industry, and he worked his way literally from the ground up. Before I was born, he dug ditches for underground pipelines across the southeastern U.S. Later, he learned to weld those pipelines together so they could carry product from refineries to tank farms. I think about this when I'm filling up my car. His hands helped build part of the system that gets fuel where it needs to go.
When I was nine months old, he was promoted to operate a couple of tank farms, and we moved to Nashville, TN. Despite often working night shifts, he put himself through college, finishing his bachelor's degree and earning two master's degrees along the way. That work led to a promotion into management, and we relocated to Knoxville, TN.
While I was in college, he was promoted again and moved to Atlanta, GA, to manage regional operations as part of his company's executive team. He became an expert in human factors, implementing protocols to prevent the human and operational errors that lead to safety incidents and environmental disasters.
Eventually, he left the company and began consulting with oil and gas companies around the world, teaching them about human factors and helping them build their own programs. When he got sick, he retired as the top consultant in the world in his industry area of focus.
This is where my work ethic comes from. I saw it every day of my life. I know people admired him and looked up to him, the same way I did. He seemed to me like a rock star in his industry.
But one thing really struck me after he died. There was no massive public recognition from that industry. A few posts here and there on LinkedIn, and that was mostly it. It shocked me a little, given how much importance I place on my own career and how hard I work.
Clichés become clichés for a reason. One you've probably heard is that it's your family and friends who remember you and talk about you when you're gone, not necessarily the people you worked with or crossed paths with in your industry along the way.
I was reminded of that today, on his birthday, and I wanted to pass the reminder along: spend more time taking care of yourself, and more time nurturing the people you love.
Happy birthday, Dad. I'm still talking about you.