My Dad had several favorite bits of wisdom he lived by. “You can tell who boozes by the company he chooses” was one I first heard when Dad did not approve of my middle school friends. “Volunteer for everything” was the last advice he gave me before I flew to Texas for Basic Training. He was right. But the most useful advice when approaching a complex world was his Every-Other-Asshole Rule.
I remember hearing this for the first time the day I took my driver’s license test. I wanted nothing more in the world than to get my license and drive. I had aced the written test and had years of practice driving warehouse vehicles and an old pickup truck for hauling trash in my summer job. But I was nervous. Just before I took the road test, my Dad said in a conspiratorial whisper, “Just look at every other asshole who has a license and ask yourself, is he smarter than I am?”
I passed.
And for the rest of my life, when faced with something that seemed difficult or frightening, I would look around and see every other asshole who could do what I was about to do. And it worked.
Several years later I was training to be a tank gunner. I had to fire a tank cannon (for the first time) and hit the target down range or redo gunnery training. I was intimidated. I had never fired anything larger than an M16 rifle. But I looked around at the other gunnery trainees who passed the test and even some of the training leaders who were not the brightest bulb on the chandelier and thought, ‘I can do this.’ I did. I was a tank commander less than a year later.
A decade after that, I was the first one out of the plane when a group of eight co-workers at an ad agency went skydiving. We watched a group before us float to the ground. I looked at that group, remembered Dad's advice, and boarded the little single-engine plane last. Last in, first out!
In 2009 in Oklahoma, I went off a rappel tower for the first time. Same drill. Look around, think of Dad, jump backwards and sail to the ground.
In 2012 at age 59, I learned to swim. I had never swum the length of a pool. I went to the YMCA for lessons, not sure I could actually swim. I met my instructor, looked around and thought at least half the human race can swim, I can too.
Thanks Dad.
