The New — and Urgent — Case For Altruism
Growing up, I liked hanging out with my parents (most of the time), but I loved being with my grandparents. This may sound obvious because of the reputation grandparents have for spoiling their progeny. But, at least for me, that wasn’t the case. They didn’t give me everything I wanted, and they were quite stingy with their money compared to my parents. I loved being with them, in some ways, because of their stinginess. When I asked them to buy me expensive shoes or shirts or food, they asked why I needed these items, and what in the world justified these excessive price tags. I had no answers, so I asked them why they were so concerned. Their answers led me down several rabbit holes of ambling stories of the Great Depression and World War II, of times that demanded individual and collective sacrifice. Yes, that’s why I loved being with them.
I remember, in particular, one summer afternoon sitting with my Grandpa Chuckie watching endless hours of baseball. I asked him about college and how he afforded it during the depths of the Great Depression. He told me that he saved up money by operating a rickshaw (and not the bicycle version) during the 1933 Chicago World’s Fair. “Wow,” I said, marveling at the sheer strength and endurance it must’ve required to haul people around hours on end in the muggy Midwestern heat.
“We did what we had to — times were tough,” he said with an air of confident modesty. I felt as though I was interviewing a superhero, someone who overcame the odds and conquered adversity.
“When were you most scared?” I followed. “Definitely during the Japanese bombing raids in Guam,” he answered. My eyes grew large. “Bombing raids???”
“Yeah, your grandmother and dad were back home in Chicago and I knew that if I didn’t make it out of the raids, I’d never get to see them,” he casually added. “You’d never get to see my dad again, right?” I clarified. “No,” he said, “I’d never get to see him at all. I left for the army when your grandmother was pregnant with your dad. I didn’t see him until the war was over, when he was three years old,” he said, even more matter of factly.
I couldn’t believe my ears. “You didn’t see him until he was three!”
I saw that my enthusiasm began colliding with his somberness. He wasn’t happy about not seeing his first-born son for the first three years of his life. It had been an incredible hardship. He was sad about it, forty-five years later, in his own stoic way.
My profound admiration for him grew in that moment, but in new ways. Suddenly, I wasn’t proud of him for his toughness and bravery fighting off air raids; rather, I was deeply and profoundly touched by his sacrifice.
“Wow, grandpa, wow. I can’t believe you did that.”
“I did what I had to… we all just did what we had to do.”
Since that conversation with my Grandpa Chuckie, I’ve accomplished a lot of things, including graduating from high school, college, and grad school. I’ve won awards and obtained numerous certificates. I’ve been named as a thought leader by several communities. I’ve closed big coaching and consulting contracts. I’ve bought homes and taken fabulous vacations.
But, when I really reflect on the moments in my life in which I’ve felt joy, honor, connection, and nobility — the feelings I had hearing my grandpa’s stories — they weren’t about my accomplishments. They were about the efforts I made to be there for my friends and family, the moments I had the courage to defend someone in struggle, and the opportunities to I took share my good fortunes with others.
Nothing has made me feel better and whole than my journey in becoming an adoptive parent.
Little has made me feel better and whole than helping my friends through a painful crisis.
Barely anything has made me feel better than donating my professional talents to local nonprofits who literally could not exist without this support.
Do these statements mean that I don’t like taking vacations, spending money, and having fun? Of course not. But those endeavors don’t feed my soul. Sacrificing for others does; it feeds my soul.
Right now, in March of 2020, the world is facing a crisis not seen for nearly a century. We are confronting a worldwide pandemic in the age of globalization. No one truly knows what to do. We have no clear playbook.
Or do we?
I think my grandpa gave me all the playbook I need. He taught me about facing hardships and overcoming adversity. He showed me what commitment, hard work, and perseverance could achieve.
He gave me the mantra that I — and we — need to embrace: “I did what I had to do… we all just did what we had to do.”
Here’s what I, and we, have to do:
- Pull together. This is a time of collective effort and shared sacrifice.
- Care for and support the vulnerable. This is a time when a failure to consider others may lead to catastrophe for us all.
- Be our best selves. We all have the capacity for heroic personal leadership. It’s not in some of us; it’s in all of us.
- Separate needs from wants. We are likely entering an era of hardship. Focus on what really matters, what really serves us.
There is literally nothing we can’t accomplish when we bring to bear the full range of gifts and talents in our communities. Never in human history have so many people had so much to offer. In most countries — especially in the developed world — the average person is educated, trained, and experienced on a level never before seen in human history.
It’s time to step up and step forward. It’s time to deploy our talents. It’s time to focus our energy.
It’s time to lead.
