I was just old enough in the mid-1960s to witness with equal parts curiosity and trepidation arguments between my father and grandfather. It was one of my first introductions to the world of adults who tried, mostly with success, to keep “grown-up stuff” hidden from children.
The arguments, with few exceptions, took place in the paint-and-wallpaper store my grandfather ran for years before retiring when I was 7 or 8 years old. I loved the place with its gumball machine, rows of paint cans redolent with the scent of turpentine and linseed oil, and carpet piles that a kid’s imagination instantly turned into mountains and forts.
Even though he retired, my grandfather hung around the store at least a couple of days a week, and his presence, I think, was the source of friction between him and my father.
My dad was busy converting an old industrial building behind the store into a traffic-paint manufacturing plant, and I think his hurry-up-and-succeed work ethos clashed with my grandfather’s the-old-ways-work-best business credo.
I can be excused for not realizing at a young age that my grandfather didn’t hang around the paint store to make sure my dad did business his way: He hung around in hopes of mentoring his son safely around and over the business world’s crags and pitfalls.
My dad’s prickly response to my grandfather’s advice was his way of grudgingly admitting that his father’s insights into personalities and risk-taking were well-honed and time-tested.
My perspective on their exchanges has evolved with age and taught me a lot about mentor and mentee relationships. The closest my dad ever came to admitting the value of my grandfather’s advice came on the day he looked at me and said, “Find someone you can ask to be your mentor.”
I never found my mentor and I sometimes feel envious that my father didn’t have to look far — even if he didn’t want to admit it — to find his. Love and, admittedly, pride made my grandfather the perfect candidate for the job.
My dad became a mentor to one of my older cousins who — like my father during his teenage years — was dangerously adrift and turned to military service to show him a productive path into adulthood.
Their bond made me jealous and it took decades for me to realize that, for any number of reasons, my dad could never be my mentor.
I am thrilled to say I have become a mentor in my career’s ninth inning. I love talking about the nuts and bolts of the news business with young people. I don’t really care if they take my advice or mock me behind my back: I feel lucky just to be in a career long enough to pass on what I have learned.
That opportunity makes me wonder if mentoring is a declining art, maybe even a dying art. I asked someone with a strong business background his viewpoint and he replied, “declining, most definitely; dying, no.”
He said COVID-19’s abrupt termination of face-to-face interactions has contributed to the decline. But I think social media has a lot to do with it. The electronic medium can’t make up for the impression someone makes on you when they look you in the eye and explain something.
Mentors aren’t just explainers. They are the original influencers — people who make us want to aim higher and do better by virtue of the way they carry themselves and speak.
Take my dad’s suggestion and, if you don’t have a mentor, go find one.
