My Dad owns a Schrade-Walden pocket knife. It's nothing fancy, just a simple little 3-bladed folding knife, and being a patient and meticulous man, he has always kept a razor edge on it. As a boy, I greatly admired that knife and the care Dad gave it. One day as he sat in his living room chair honing one of its blades, I expressed my admiration in such a way as to let him know that I wouldn't mind owning such a knife one day.
He kept thoughtfully stroking the blade on that old Arkansas Oil Stone, and after what seemed like a long time, he stopped. He carefully wiped the oil from the blade with a cotton cloth he kept for the purpose, and then folded it closed. Then, placing it in the center of the palm of his left hand, he raised his arm, palm up, so that it extended straight out from his body, parallel to the floor.
Then with a twinkle in his eye, he asked, "How long do you think you can hold this knife in your hand just like this?" I didn't know and said as much, but made a guess of some description -- I don't recall what it was. Then Dad made the following proposal: "Tell you what -- if you can hold this knife just like this, standing perfectly straight, without lowering your arm to even the slightest degree, for ten full minutes, I'll give you one just like it."
Well, as you might imagine, I was anxious to give That a try, and agreed with considerable excitement. And as you might also surmise, I had very little understanding, at that moment, of what I had just agreed to. But, to make a very lengthy ten minutes a lot shorter, suffice it to say that I have a Schrade-Walden pocket knife, just like my Dad's, (although I've never been patient or meticulous enough to get as fine an edge on it as he kept on his). And, of course, because of how I came by it, it is one of my more treasured physical possessions.
But, as is the case with all things temporal, it is of far less value to me than the accompanying moral lessons of discipline, determination, and the human ability to control physical circumstances by the power of our thinking. Dad used such opportunities to build my character and I'll never be able to repay the debt.
I believe, however, that the best thing I can do to try, is to use what he taught me. And I do. I use the Lessons of the Knife, and many others, every day in my real estate career. I have found them indispensable. Without them, I never would have had the ability to leave a steady paycheck and great benefits, to embark on a commission-based journey, where it has been sometimes hard to see from paycheck to paycheck. I never would have believed that I could succeed.
But, succeed I have, and not just in monetary terms, (heaven knows that has been, and still is, hard enough to come by). My most treasured success has been in the realm of intangibles. My love of the work; Great confidence in my own ability; The lasting and irreplaceable friendships I have, that never would have even come my way, on any other road; The ability to stand firm in a storm, enjoying the wind and firmly believing that I'll come out the other side alright, and the tremendous satisfaction of a job well done, when I do; these and many more, are all great gifts that have come to me because my Dad gave me the necessary "equipment" to take on the challenge of being a professional real estate agent.
Well, I guess I don't have much else to say right now, except -- Thanks, Dad.
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