By Michael J. Whitlock, Executive Vice President
A couple of years ago, I was awakened at 2 AM by the sound of my wife, Marcia, talking to one of our kids. It was Stephanie; she had gotten a flat tire on her way back from Bloomington, Indiana, where she was attending Indiana University. She was parked on the side of the road, wrestling with a stubborn lug nut. I fell back asleep, but I woke up again a short time later to learn that the problem persisted. I stared at the ceiling, knowing what I had to do, even though I was still in a sleepy fog. I threw back the covers as Marcia asked what I was doing. “Heading towards Bloomington,” I replied. My daughter was sitting on the side of the road, a sitting duck, and that wasn’t going to fly. Three hours later, I was back in bed. It’s a dad thing.
Fast forward 24 months, our youngest daughter, Sam, a recent graduate of the same university, was planning her move to the Big Apple—New York City. She was preparing to drive a 15-foot U-Haul truck on the 700-mile trip with her oldest sister, Sarah. I stewed over this for a few days before I told Sarah she was out, and I was in. Samantha insisted she would drive part of the way. I sat behind the wheel for the entire 13-hour drive, with her asleep or crocheting in the passenger seat. It’s a dad thing.
Now, moms have their thing as well, but I don’t have that perspective, though I’ve witnessed it on many occasions. The question is, when do you stop being the hero? My daughters could have made that trip on their own and would have been just fine, but selfishly, I couldn’t bring myself to let that happen. I even posted about the trip on social media and included a request for friends in the NYC area to provide any assistance to Sam should she need it in a pinch. I received two responses, both from bail agents: “Whatever she needs, 24/7.” It warms the heart to know people have your back. It appears I’m not the only one with a “dad or mom thing.”
This feeling of obligation and commitment has carried over into my professional life. We are in the fall season of state bail association meetings. I’ve reported on attending several in the past few weeks—Mississippi, Alabama, Florida—with several more on the schedule: Ohio, California, and Texas. The people who volunteer to hold positions with these associations and plan these events are selfless in nature and committed in their hearts. They are unpaid volunteers and sacrifice time away from their own businesses to promote and preserve a profession that has given them so much. They should not be taken for granted. They deserve proper recognition and support, and I, for one, spot the “dad and mom thing” in each and every one of them.
Cheers!