A Case for Mentors
The end of an era.
That is the first line I wrote the morning of David Russell’s retirement party last month in Fayetteville, Arkansas.
Just seven months prior he had sat across from me, in a mutual favorite Italian restaurant in Fayetteville, and broke the news that he was nailing down the date for his retirement. I was not exactly shocked by the news, but I was shocked at our reactions to his confession. We both wept.
Outside of my creator, there is nothing I am more grateful for than my mentors. I have never been interviewed, given an acceptance speech for an award, spoken in front of groups, etc., where one of them was not individually named or collectively recognized as my “mentors.” Every single thing I have accomplished professionally can be traced back to one or all of them. There is no “Heather Nelson, fill-in-the-blank” without them. Period. Full stop.
Some have said to me it might be different if I had a spouse or a family of my own, and I smile politely as they make their case before responding, “No.” First, no one can replace the space in someone’s life where a spouse or family belongs. I have been single my entire adult life; I know this to be true. Second, even if I had that, my mentors have played an altogether different role in my life guiding me educationally, professionally, and as a human being. They have been my teachers, my therapists, my bosses, my friends, and as one of them pointed out recently, my muses. Though I hardly think they were thinking of their role as mentor at the time.
David, for instance, talked me through my first experience with firing someone. My hyperventilating, tears, questions. All of it. He is the one who convinced me to accept professional promotions that would delay me completing my MBA (which I was working on via night classes). His famous line “No one can ever take that education away from you Heather.” has been recycled with my mentees no less than two dozen times (at a minimum). The rest of that story is that I graduated with sixty graduate hours for a master’s degree which took only thirty graduate hours to earn. Ugh. Still smiling David. LOL
David also is the one I called to help me get a checking account opened when I co-founded my first company in 2012. Note, the ink was still wet on our corporate filing papers. He is the one who cheered me on with every accolade and built me back up after every failure. David is also the only individual in my life brave enough to tell me when a professional situation I was in was “killing” me. He had never spoken so bluntly or seriously to me in the two and a half decades we had known each other. That alone scared me straight. In all my life, I have never known anyone braver. More kind. Fairer. A better encourager. The best leader. Plus, the best dresser I know. A great cook. The absolute funniest human. He is the whole package.
My life doesn’t change with David’s retirement, though when he told me I certainly wept like it did. The truth is my heart breaks today for his team, and I told them so the night of his retirement. I remember all too well what it was like when I lost David as my boss. There is only one David. You may get other leaders, but you will not ever get another David.
While this sounds sad, and I need to shift gears, I am thrilled for David. A forty-four-year banking career. A great family. Great friends. A packed building with people celebrating him (even with the wild weather that came through minutes before it began). People traveled as far as Houston to be there for him. Just another testament to his lasting legacy.
There are so many things I could write about David. So much I owe him for…the litany of things I have witnessed him do unselfishly for others. He has been (and remains) such an important part of my life. I am absolutely beyond grateful that he continues to mentor me, but mostly that he is my friend.
And that is what happens in so many mentoring relationships, those you mentor, or that mentor you, become your friends. It is the greatest thing.
While I am a big believer in individuals having a personal board of directors, and I am glad there is growing interest in learning how to cultivate one, the cornerstone of any board of directors needs to be a mentor(s). Everyone needs to surround themselves with people who have equity enough with you to say, well, anything. Whether talking about a mentor or a personal BOD, it must be emphasized that your selections should be the smartest people in their fields or the expertise you need pouring into your life. Finally, you need to cultivate a relationship with them that allows you to say anything to them. Relationships, all of them, go both ways. Otherwise, they are not a relationship. I think this is where I insert some of mine and David’s funnier stories, but I will save those for future posts.
Except one.
In 1998, I was wrapping up a management training program for Nations Bank (that would later become Bank of America), and during the first five of the six months, David was my boss. Something happened one day, and I was wound up. Side note. My mind works super-fast, and I talk (and type - 90 WPM thank you very much) nearly as fast. I typed an email to David that probably came across as a novel. I remember it was early 1999, and due to a promotion, I earned, David was no longer my boss. So, there I was typing fast and furious in an email to David outlining my angst and looking for his wisdom on how to handle it. I received an email response in less than a half hour. One word.
Breathe.
I fell out in laughter. Not everyone would have, and I recognize that, but for me, that was the PERFECT response and David damn well knew it.
David never tried to change me. He never said Heather you are too much, your words too much, or even that my feelings were too much. He just listened. Advised. And yes, sometimes he would respond over the years with an email or text or voice mail (sometimes even via snail mail) with a simple “Breathe.” If you do not think I am tearing up writing this, you do not know me well because they are about to start slowly rolling.
Mentors KNOW you. They get you. They love you. They want the best for you. They will push and stretch you past your understanding of your capabilities. Not because they have to. No one is forcing them to remain in your life. They are choosing to pour into you and make you a priority in their life. It is incredibly unselfish.
While I believe all of this to be a case for mentors, it is also a love letter of sorts, to mine. I am sitting here in a life I am currently getting the opportunity to redesign because I have had them pouring into me since 1993 when one of my professors that semester in college became my very first mentor (we were both clueless as to what was happening at the time).
I cannot possibly overstate my love and appreciation for them.
My mentors are beginning to reach retirement age; two have now retired in the past three years. It is strange. No doubt. I would be lying if I did not confess that I think about losing them to death now more than I once did, and I continue to selfishly pray to exit this world before any of them do. Not having parents to watch grow old and traditionally grieve, I imagine in my heart that my mentors will come as close to that for me as I will experience in my life. As such, I spend a lot of time saying words like “I love you.” when I leave them or get off a call. No lie, some of them are of a generation that feels the full awkwardness of that, and I frankly do not care. They are pretty used to it by now. I mean they are the ones who have had to get over it and deal with my hugging addiction. LOL
In all seriousness, life is short and in my fifth decade on this planet, I feel that more than I ever have before. I want to squeeze out everything I can out of every second of every day I continue to have breath. I still need to be poured into, but I also want to pour into others with all I have…while I have it. I learned that from my mentors. That is how they live their lives, pre- and post-retirement.
That night at dinner with David last fall, I had just returned stateside from my sabbatical, and he wanted to know everything. He also wanted to know what I thought when he asked me, “What’s next?” After his news, I got to turn the question to him. The thing that came out of that exchange was ‘keep dreaming’ (and here comes the tears again). David had decided to do an audacious thing post-retirement, and I cried for him and with him because I know what it is to throw everything at an audacious goal and jump. I also smiled because I knew (and told him so that night) that I was brave enough to go for it because of his influence in my life, and the best was yet to come for him too.
And that is the rest of the story and the final case for mentoring.
What you pour into others at some point gets poured back into you.
Tenfold.
Mentoring is the most selfish thing I do. The most selfish thing I have ever done. My mentees pour into me way more than I pour into them. It has been that way 100% of the time, and I have been actively mentoring for over two decades.
So, find yourself a mentor, or two, or even a dozen. Do not be scared to ask. Some will say, “No.” but some will say, “Yes!” And those yeses are worth…everything.