Tip of the Week and my dad, Pete Ferrazzi

I have an e-mail newsletter called the 'You Can't Get There Alone' Tip of the Week (subscribe here). In it, I offer a good dose of advice and encouragement to my readers to help them continue building the relationships that will enhance their lives and careers.

I won't be posting the contents of those e-mails here on the blog, but I've gotten such an overwhelming response to this week's tip that I thought I'd share it with everyone. Here it is.   

(March 9, 2005)
'You Can't Get There Alone' Tip of the Week
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Just Ask, Before They're Gone

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This past weekend was the anniversary of the passing of my dad, Pete Ferrazzi.
It’s been 7 years now. Amazing, it just doesn’t seem that long. This anniversary and all the introspection and sadness it brings happen to correspond with one of the brightest moments of my life. My book, Never Eat Alone, has hit the Wall Street Journal best seller list (#13 for business books) only one week after its release. Unfortunately, I don’t have my dad with me to share this moment.

If you’ve read Never Eat Alone, you know the impact my dad had on my life. In fact, most of the principles I shared in my book were first taught to me by my dad. That man lived for his son’s success and if only he were alive now, I bet this moment would add at least another 10 years to his life.

In all my writing, I urge you to recognize and tap into the power of your own backyard, the rich tapestry of relationships you have at your fingertips that so many of us fail to reach out to for so many reasons -- mostly fear of embarrassment or rejection or of burdening those around us. I’m going to address the fear factor in an upcoming column, but I want you to think about something now. Trust me when I say that reaching out to my dad for advice and favors used to make him the happiest man on the planet. He loved me, and helping me be successful in any small way brought him true joy. And that’s also true of my mom (who, frankly, drives me crazy) and my sister (even though we share so little in common) and my cousins (who are mostly a pretty strange lot) and dad's sisters (who are actually crazy)...and the list goes on.

The point is that for all the baggage we carry, people who care about us are waiting and wanting to contribute to our success. And, at the end of the day, perhaps the biggest gift we can give any of them is to reach out for help.

I remember once when I was renovating a house and I asked my dad to come down and supervise the demo. The accidents he accumulated over a lifetime of working heavy construction and in a steel mill had taken their toll. But he lit up at the opportunity to come out and help –- to be relevant in his retirement for his son who had never done this kind of work. I left for my job, and when I came back to check in at lunchtime, all the workers were waiting for me on the front lawn. I said, "What happened? Where’s my dad?" They told me that pop had fired them all and decided to do the work himself because they weren’t working hard enough or fast enough. I went inside and, to no surprise, saw my elderly father swinging a hammer. He was the happiest I had seen him in years. Dad, I love you. Thanks for the work ethic and all the lessons –- the most important of which is "just ask." 

So, as you can imagine, I was totally tearing up while writing this in seat 3E, sitting next to this football-player-looking guy, on a United Airlines flight to Chicago. It was kinda obvious because I had to wipe my eyes. But instead of hoping the guy next to me would ignore my emotion, I decided to practice yet another of Dad’s lessons -- audacity. I turned and briefly shared that I was writing about my dad and the recent anniversary of his death. Well, did this open up a conversation! Next thing I knew, we were landing, and Ben and I were agreeing to grab dinner soon. He wanted me to speak at an upcoming convention of financial planners his firm was organizing. And I offered to help him think through the book that he had wanted to write for years. 

For any of you who may have lost someone special to you, here's a thought. Give them a call. Sit quietly and talk to them about what’s going on in your life, maybe ask them for some advice and see what you hear coming back to you in your head and in your heart. Then turn and do the same to someone special in your life whom you haven’t lost yet, who is in your life today, before they may not be.

Warmest,
Keith
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