Sleeping Giants

by Nathan Mellor

  Over the next year, the group would get together monthly for an all-day program. The more I learned about Mo, the more I appreciated her approach to life. She had been raised on a tenant farm; she then married her high school sweetheart, went to college, and became a teacher. At her husband’s urging, she left the classroom and decided to start selling real estate. She quickly found her stride. After building and selling her real estate business, she was hired by Keller Williams to serve as president. In that role, she earned the second last name, the “velvet hammer.” The Keller Williams website provides insight into Mo’s perspective. It states, “Mo’s mission has been to help people experience the higher purpose of business–caring, sharing, and giving. Led by this mantra, Mo has single-handedly cultivated KW’s value system and culture.”6

  During the monthly sessions that followed, tables were pushed together to form one long row of tables where everyone could have lunch together as if we were one large family. I was sitting beside Mo. I decided to tell her how much I appreciated her. I am sometimes reluctant to express my gratitude to someone like Mo because I do not want people to get the wrong impression. When people become successful, they can become targets for those who will flatter them for ulterior purposes. I checked my motives and thought, I do not want anything from her and I want her to know she has been a source of inspiration to me.

  I said, “When you introduced yourself at the first gathering of our group, I knew then you were a person of character.” She said, “What makes you say that?” I responded, “You said you were 79 and would be turning 80 in 3 months.” She nodded in recognition of what she had said. I continued, “You then said that you could not wait until you were in your 80s because your 70s had been your best decade.” She smiled, still waiting for my point. I said, “I could tell you were a person of character because you are not looking for the path of least resistance. You made it clear to me that you intend to speed up versus slowing down. That takes courage and character.” I concluded, “Most people don’t say they can’t wait until their 80s. Not only did you say it, but you are also living it.”

  By defining the future before she has lived it, Mo created a “pre-memory” of what is to come. When she imagines her preferred future, she is able to visualize what that life will be like and make adjustments accordingly. By visualizing what life will be like in the future, she is better poised to anticipate what she will need when she gets there. Each time she tells someone how great her 80s will be, the more she believes it, which in turn makes it more likely to happen.

  Choosing your Path

  When dad said, “You’ve got to be careful with those second last names,” he could have just as easily said, “You’ve got to be careful with those mental models.” The way we perceive the larger world and ourselves, is complex, nuanced, and flexible. As we experience life and gain new insights into how the world works, we are continually comparing and testing new ideas against old ones. Through the process, we make decisions about which concepts should be adopted, ignored, or discarded. When my teacher at Daphne Elementary School suggested that I participate in the Oratorical Contest, she was shaping my mental model. When I became known as Nathan Mellor…the speaker, I had been given a second last name.

  It is your right and responsibility to take ownership of your mental model. I am not as interested in the “second last names” others have given you as much as I am interested in the “second last names” you have given yourself. For a number of reasons, it is important to be able to answer the questions “Whom do you want to be?” and “Are you on the right path to becoming whom you want to be?”

  When my grandfather Alden Gilliam died in 2009 at the age of 97, I received a few of his books and a handful of his papers. One of his traditions was to make annual goals for himself. It was interesting reading through some of his thoughts. He would ask, “What should the goals be for an 85-year-old?”

  You are responsible for owning your identity. Consequently, I want you to imagine how you would answer the questions asked earlier. “Whom do you want to be?” and “Are you on the right path to becoming whom you want to be?”

  Chapter 3

  “How Tall Are You Anyway?”

  Dealing with Doubts

  Early in my dad’s career, he was grappling with what he wanted to do for the long-term and was weighing his options. This type of thing, considering a career change, is not uncommon for people who are challenging their mental models. It is a way of testing the validity of their experiences. Among the possibilities he found intriguing was the idea of becoming a ranger with the National Park Service or the U.S. Forest Service.

  Before I get too far into the story, it is only fair to admit that when I first heard the story about his interest in becoming a ranger, it had already become a part of family lore. There are a handful of versions that are told by various family members. Some suggest the tale is a legend, while others recount it with the highest confidence and offer the promise that their version is the “most accurate.” In my experience, you should be wary of people who make such assurances. Fortunately for you, I happen to be a student of such things, and have been able to piece together the actual story with the greatest attention to detail. Therefore, between you and me, my version happens to be the “most accurate” telling of the tale.

  To help set the stage for the story about my dad’s career options, I want to provide a bit of context by telling another related story. Knowing more of his back-story is among the many reasons why I admire him. The man he is today cannot be fully appreciated without understanding his motivators. The following is just one of many stories that I could have chosen from my dad’s life that captures his blend of intensity, humor, and perspective.

  The Wrestler

  I was in high school when my dad and I were talking one afternoon about his wrestling career. I am not sure how we got on the topic, but he did not talk about his athletic career often. I always enjoyed hearing stories about his life. It was a casual conversation, and we were discussing some of the lessons learned through adversity and loss.

  He was sharing about his first wrestling match when he was a freshman at Marietta High School. Because of his high expectations of himself, he was shaken when he took to the mat and was summarily pinned. The loss was devastating, and he replayed the moment over and over again in his mind. He had been outmaneuvered, and although he strained against his opponent with every ounce of strength available, he could not break free.

  Everyone has a voice inside his or her head that provides guidance. What that voice says is crucial to success in life. After a defeat, the voice will urge someone to dig deeper or to give up. Whether he knew it at the time or not, it was on that night that my father started down the path to becoming a coach. Instead of relying on someone else to be the source of his motivation, using his inner voice, he began coaching himself. He threw himself into training, improving his technique, growing stronger, and learning to cut weight to wrestle in his preferred weight class. Whenever he had a spare moment, he was doing push-ups, sit-ups, or some exercise intended to make him stronger or faster.

  He then said, almost as an afterthought, “That was when I stopped sleeping on my back.” The tone of the sentence implied that I already knew what he meant, but this was not the case. I said, “I am not following you. Why did you stop sleeping on your back?” He replied, “It was part of the mindset that I needed. I made the decision to not sleep on my back to help me remember my goal.” He continued, “I did not want to get used to the feeling of being on my back.”

  I processed his response for a moment. I thought of the determination of a freshman that consciously chose not to sleep on his back as a form of self-punishment for being pinned and as motivation to not be pinned again. Not knowing his high school record, I asked, “Did it work?”

  He replied, “I was never pinned again.” He paused briefly and said, “The problem was I had the wrong goal. I made
my goal to never be pinned again. My goal should have been never to lose again. You can still lose without being pinned.”

  THE RANGER

  Dad was not too many years removed from his wrestling days when he walked into the office where he could get an application to become a ranger. Both his father and grandfather had worked for the federal government for the bulk of their careers. They had both served in the U.S. Army, and they both had been letter carriers for the United States Postal Service. He was familiar with a life that required a uniform.

  Life as a park ranger, especially in the early years of the National Parks and U.S. Forest Service, was difficult. The role was demanding, lonely, and often unappreciated. Consequently, the job description for the role was intentionally blunt. The Use Book, written in 1905, provided a sketch of what life was like as a ranger in the U.S. Forest Service. It stated that applicants must be:

  thoroughly sound and able-bodied, capable of enduring hardships and of performing severe labor under trying conditions. He must be able to take care of himself and his horse in regions remote from settlement and supplies. He must be able to build trails and cabins, ride, pack, and deal tactfully with all classes of people. He must know something of land surveying, estimating and scaling timber, logging, land laws, mining, and the live-stock business.1

  Just in case it was not clear, the Use Book continued, “Invalids seeking light out-of-doors employment need not apply. Experience, not book education, is sought, although the ability to make simple maps and write intelligent reports upon ordinary forest business is essential.”2

  Although the role of a ranger for the U.S. Forest Service is a different life from the role as a ranger for the National Park Service, they both appealed to people seeking a challenge. Horace Albright, who was the superintendent of Yellowstone National Park, made it a practice to send the following cover letter to ranger applicants in 1926:

  Applicants for a ranger’s position must be 21 years of age or must attain that age by June 15th. If you are not 21 or will not be by June 15th, don’t apply. If you have a reputation of appearing unusually youthful or immature for a man of 21, don’t apply. We want men who are mature in appearance. We prefer men of 25 to 30 years of age.

  The ranger is primarily a policeman; therefore, he should be big in frame, tall, and of average weight for his age and height. We always prefer big men to small men, other conditions being equal. If you are small of statue, better not apply.3

  Based on the fact that my dad’s family did not do much hunting or fishing, the idea that he could actually become a ranger was faint. He was interested nonetheless. Upon opening the front door to the office of the National Park Service, he walked inside and approached the desk of the person positioned nearest the entrance. He stood in front of her for a moment waiting for her to acknowledge his presence. Without making eye contact, she said, “Can I help you?”

  He replied, “I am here to get an application for the park ranger position.” Instead of responding or reaching for an application, she sat motionless. With the least amount of exertion possible, she eventually tilted her head in his direction and looked him over. Exhaling, she asked with a skeptical tone, “How tall are you anyway?”

  His eyes narrowed and his jaw involuntarily clinched as he attempted to ignore the self-important tone in which she had asked her question. He replied, “I’m 5’-7”.” She could not disguise her satisfaction in being the bearer of bad news. With a matter-of-fact tone, she said, “Well, you can’t even apply for this job unless you are 5’-10”.”

  THE RESPONSE

  The trigger was not what she said, but how she said it. She had enjoyed shutting him down a little too much. It was when one side of her mouth formed a smug half-smile that he began calculating the cost of responding. He cleared his throat to speak. She looked up at him, surprised that he was going to respond.

  Just in case you wondered if a man who is 5’-7” can command a room, it might be helpful to point out that leaders including Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and Winston Churchill; entertainers and actors like Robin Williams, Tom Cruise, and Al Pacino; as well as icons including Bruce Lee, Henry “The Fonz” Winkler, and storytellers like George Lucas and Steven Spielberg are all under 5’-7”.4 As the quote most commonly attributed to Mark Twain says, “It’s not the size of the dog in the fight. It’s the size of the fight in the dog.”

  His words were measured and direct. Starting slowly and quietly and growing in volume and intensity, he said, “Are you telling me that I can serve my country in the Vietnam War and win the Congressional Medal of Honor…represent this nation in the Olympics, and win the silver medal, but I can’t even apply for your job?”

  Her mouth opened, involuntarily, in shock. Her eyebrows raised, and she stared at him with wide-eyed amazement. He did not interrupt the silence; he was waiting for a response. In a thin and penitent voice, she said, “I am sorry…I did not realize who you were.”

  Her answer suggested that perhaps his status might have made a difference. He turned to leave. When he got to the front door, he looked back and said, “Well…I didn’t do any of those things…” He paused for a moment to let the statement register and continued, “…but it really shouldn’t matter.”

  There were many reasons why it could be argued that a ranger should be of a certain height, weight, age, and demeanor. In consideration of the lawlessness historically associated with the areas in which the rangers would be serving and the emotional response that is common when dealing with land use, it likely made all the more sense in the minds of the policymakers that they needed people who had the best odds of protecting themselves in the face of danger. By choosing tall, athletic, young men, they were sending a message to those who were breaking the law that they meant business. They were attempting to show force. Over time, the image of the strong, uniformed ranger conveyed safety and security.

  There are limitations to this approach, however, as the rationale was assumed but not necessarily accurate. As a result, others who could have served who did not fit the profile because of their height were not given an opportunity to prove their ability. Because they could not prove their ability, they could not disprove the rationale. Consequently, the mental model remained unchanged.

  As much as we would like to think of ourselves as having the wherewithal not to have our futures shaped by the opinions of others, the reality is that we are unlikely to recognize it when something is being said that is not true due to a lack of knowledge about how the system works. When dealing with the woman who told him that he could not be a ranger because he was not 5’-10”, he was agitated by her tone, but he believed her message. He responded to a disrespectful tone, but he assumed what she said about his height was true.

  YOU ARE THE CEO OF YOUR LIFE

  What the woman said to my dad about the height requirement was not accurate. There had been a minimum height requirement for rangers in the National Park Service for decades, but it was not 5’-10”. A 1940 description of rangers, written by Hugh Miller, superintendent of the Southwestern National Monuments, stated, “Applicants must measure at least 5 feet 7 inches in height without boots or shoes and weigh at least 145 pounds in ordinary clothing without overcoat or hat.”5 Furthermore, all height restrictions of this kind were lifted in 1971 due to legal action that argued the practice was discriminatory to many men and most women.6

  Due to her position of authority, my dad believed her and left the office never knowing if being a park ranger would have been something he would have enjoyed. It underscores a critical truth, which is that just because we believe something does not make it true. In this situation, the woman to whom he was speaking was wrong.

  There will always be people in your life, some well-intentioned and others not, who will tell you who you can or cannot be. Sometimes they are right, but sometimes they are not. Regardless of their opinions, however, you are the CEO of your life, and it is your re
sponsibility to chart your course.

  In my experience, the greatest challenge for people seeking to build a life that matters is not the opinion of others. The most significant obstacle is the mental model they have chosen for themselves. Although there is a risk of people thinking too highly of themselves, the more common problem is that people do not think highly enough of themselves.

  ACCESS GRANTED

  In many situations, there are people who have the ability to succeed, but they lack access to opportunities. Whether it is the consequence of intentional or unintentional discrimination, unfortunate timing, or just bad luck, there are times when people, due to reasons beyond their control, are denied the chance to pursue their dream. When this dynamic exists, when hard work and character are not enough to break through, access to opportunity must emerge from another source.

  The most impactful and transformational leaders are those who use their influence to provide opportunities for others. Instead of investing themselves in the lives of those who were likely to succeed anyway, they invest themselves in those who would not be able to pursue their goals otherwise. In the course of my lifetime, I have only met a few of these types of leaders. One of those leaders is my friend, Mike O’Neal.

  My friendship with Mike began when I joined the faculty at Oklahoma Christian University (OC) in Oklahoma City in the summer of 2006. I had been on the campus for a few weeks when I asked to meet with him to talk about a few ideas I hoped he might find interesting. Within a matter of minutes, I recognized that I had stumbled upon someone distinctive.

  A native Oklahoman, Mike was born to Foy and Margie O’Neal on Wednesday, February 6, 1946. He was raised in Antlers, Oklahoma, which is located in the southeastern part of the state. Founded in 1887 within the Choctaw Nation, the town derived its name from a set of antlers that were fastened to a tree that marked a nearby spring.7