What I Look For

This is a letter I wrote to my father in November 2023, after two days at a leadership workshop. He passed away recently. We held his services on June 14, where I read this to those gathered. I'm sharing it this Father's Day. The inscription he gave me over three decades ago is still teaching me how to look.

Dear Dad,

"What I see depends mainly on what I look for." That was the inscription on the portfolio you gifted me when I was promoted to District Supervisor at Walgreens in 1990. When I participated in a leadership workshop this week, the inscription was, once again, top of mind.

From the start of the workshop, it was clear that the content, the instructors, and the twenty-five leaders in the room were all world-class. It was up to me to become fully immersed and engaged. I was. Yet, when called to stay "after class" the last night to speak with the workshop co-creator, I knew what was coming: she asked me to be more vocal and share my homework assignment with the group in the morning. The assignment was to write a letter to someone in my life—I chose you, Dad—describing what I discovered and what was revealed to me during the past two days. I identified three things.

First, I was reminded that I am a messy work in progress, still learning how I see myself and others. I've never considered myself an elite leader. The workshop format, where knowledge comes through people's stories, their triumphs, their pains, their ambitions, their resilience, and their courage, keeps me on the journey to be a better leader and a better coach.

Second, I will strive to be more precise in my language. My hyperactive mind makes this challenging. Writing helps me organize my words, consolidate my thoughts, express feelings, and summon the courage to document it all. I will write more and do it with my head and my heart.

The third and most powerful awakening was a connecting of the dots. A few years ago, I asked Mom what I was like as a kid. She said that I was always hard on myself and that she still sees it. "How we do anything is how we do everything." It's not great being hard on yourself, but I can manage. My breakthrough was that this trait spilled over into my leadership and life. At times, I was too hard on others. I hid behind high standards. That veil has now been lifted. I am committed to having the courage to be more empathetic and create new levels of trust around me.

Finally, thank you for passing along your great memory. It is the foundation for my two leadership values, vision and learning. Memory is pattern recognition, and pattern recognition is much of what I offer the leaders I coach.

Dad, I remember you lifting me up when I felt less than enough. Memory helps me relive your granddaughters' dance recitals, where you cried tears of joy. And I remember the beautiful poems you wrote to Mom on her birthdays and special occasions.

Dementia is mercilessly stealing your memory.

No more poems, no more dance recitals, and no recognition that we buried your sister, my godmother, last Saturday.

Although you are no longer the Dad I knew, I remember the Dad who inspired me over three decades ago with a simple gift and inscription. "What I see depends mainly on what I look for." I see a man I am proud to call my father.

A Son Never Forgets.

With courage and love always, your namesake,

Dominick