My dad and I were having a conversation about what I was going to do after high school. I always worked a part time job when I was old enough. Early on I was a paper-boy, then I tried telephone sales and worked in retail as a stock clerk and a sales associate. I even delivered milk and dairy products on weekends to help an older gentleman who disliked running out of his truck to porch his residential customers’ orders. Yet, I knew I wanted to go to college and focus on my studies without having a job.
The discussion unexpectedly became intense, and before I realized it, I blurted out, “You owe me a college education.” My dad had a different opinion, and he picked me up by my collar and held me up against the kitchen wall. I brushed against the clock that was hanging there and knocked it down to the floor. Staring intensely into my eyes, he replied, “I don’t owe you crap.” After my dad let go of me, I realized I had said the wrong thing, and I was left dangling by my shirt collar from the nail that used to hold the clock. My dad walked out of the room, and I was shocked by how much anger my comment had provoked him. At that moment, I needed to figure out how to free myself from the nail. I eventually slid out of my shirt and picked up the clock that had survived the fall. Neither I nor the clock sustained any physical harm; however, my ego took a hit and my previously arrogant expectations of him were humbled. Time healed my ego and my respect for my dad only increased. Sometimes an obstinate kid needs to learn about life the hard way. This was one of the greatest lessons my dad gave me. Simply said, nobody owes you anything. It took some self-reflection to understand why he became so angry at my assumption that my needs were his responsibility at eighteen years old.
This was not about my dad’s moment of anger; instead, it was something truly valuable to be treasured forever. I found similarities in a yearly e-mail a friend sends me about a Christmas letter written by Harry Browne, who once ran as a Libertarian presidential candidate. This e-mail always reminds me of my experience with my dad. Browne wrote a letter to his then nine-year-old daughter about what he wished he had learned when he was her age. The letter, written in love, was better than any toy or game his daughter could have received. The lesson being nobody owes you anything.
Like Browne, I have incorporated this philosophy of personal accountability and self-reliance that allows for the responsible exercise of freedom. The idea took me time to grasp as I matured, that people live for their own happiness, not yours. Life and the love of it are a gift and should not be an obligation by someone else once you are an adult. The responsibility for your happiness is you. When one understands the need to be self-restrained in your appetites and desires, one can create a life that is released from the expectations that others have a responsibility for your happiness. Your life and the love of it are blessings and one should have gratitude for it.
My dad, like Harry Browne, gave me the key to understanding and a way to live a more fulfilling life. Once you rely on yourself for happiness and no longer have the feeling of entitlement, you make your own life complete. When you respect and trust acquaintances, friends, and family without expecting anything in return, it deepens your connections with them and allows you to genuinely appreciate others. Living with respect for yourself and generosity brings one a greater sense of fulfillment. When you let go of the belief that the world owes you something, you begin to appreciate everything you already possess.
I wish I had that clock from the kitchen wall. It would have been a daily reminder of how valuable time is, and that life’s lessons often come when reality forces us to pay attention by engraving a mark on our character. As Harry Browne once said, “A great burden was lifted from my shoulders the day I realized that no one owes me anything.”
https://open.spotify.com/episode/3XrmYY3b1Pxr5C9dmoAthK
