The wisest person I ever met in my life was a third-grade dropout. Why is this and 'dropout' in the same sentence rather oxymoronic?

Like jumbo shrimp. Mm-hmm. And it's not oxymoronic for me to say 'third-grade dropout.' That third-grade dropout, the wisest person I ever met in my life, who taught me to combine knowledge and wisdom to make an impact, was my father, a simple cook.

Why is this man, one of the wisest men of my life, just a simple cook? He left school in the third grade to help out on the family farm.

But just because he left school doesn't mean his education stopped. Mark Twain once said, 'I've never allowed my schooling to get in the way of my education.' My father taught himself how to read, taught himself how to write.

He decided, in the midst of Jim Crow, as America was breathing the last gasps of the Civil War, that he was going to stand and be a man.

Not a black man, not a brown man, not a white man, but a man.

He literally challenged himself to be the best that he could be all the days of his life. A third-grade dropout dad who was quoting Michelangelo, saying to us boys, 'I won't have a problem if you aim high and miss,' 'but I'm gonna have a real issue if you aim low and hit.

' A country mother quoting Henry Ford, saying, 'If you think you can or if you think you can't, you're right.' I learned that from a third-grade dropout: simple lessons, lessons like these, son: you'd rather be an hour early than a minute late.

We never knew what time it was at my house because the clocks were always ahead. My mother said for nearly 30 years, my father left the house at 3:45 in the morning. One day, she asked him, 'Why, Daddy?

' He said, 'Maybe one of my boys will catch me in the act of excellence.' I want to share two things with you.

Aristotle said you are what you repeatedly do; therefore, excellence is a habit, not an act. Don't ever forget that. I know you're tough.

But always remember to be kind. Don't ever forget that. Never embarrass Mama. Mm-hmm. Yeah, if Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy. If Daddy ain't happy, nobody cares. But you know I'm telling you.

Next lesson: a lesson from a cook over there in the galley. Son, make sure your servant's towel is bigger than your ego. Ego is the anesthesia that deadens the pain of stupidity.

Y'all might have a relative in mind you want to send that to. Let me say it again: Ego is the anesthesia that deadens the pain of stupidity. Pride is the burden of a foolish person, John Wooden, the coach.

He coached basketball at UCLA for a living, but his calling was to impact people. And with all those national championships, guess what he was found doing in the middle of the week? Going into the cupboard.

Grabbing a broom and sweeping his own gym floor. You want to make an impact? Find your broom every day of your life.

You find your broom, you grow your influence that way. That way you're attracting people so that you can impact them. Final lesson: Son, you're gonna do a job.

Do it right. I've always been told how average I can be; I've always been criticized for being average.

But I want to tell you something: I stand here before you, before all of these people, not listening to those words, but telling myself every single day to shoot for the stars, to be the best that I can be.

Good enough isn't good enough if it can be better, and better isn't good enough if it can be best.

Let me close with a very personal story that I think will bring all this into focus.

Wisdom will come to you from the unlikeliest of sources, a lot of times through failure. When you hit rock bottom, remember this.

While you're struggling, rock bottom can also be a great foundation on which to build and on which to grow. I'm not worried that you'll be successful; I'm worried that you won't fail from time to time.

The person that gets up off the canvas and keeps growing, that's the person that will continue to grow their influence. Back in the 70s, to help me make this point, let me introduce you to someone.

I met the finest woman I'd ever seen in my life. Mm-hmm. Back in my day, we had a saying: 'She's a brick house.' This woman was the finest woman I'd ever seen in my life.

There's just one little problem: back then, ladies didn't like big old linemen.

The Blind Side hadn't come out yet. They liked quarterbacks and running backs. Breathlessly, I found out her name was Trina Williams from Lompoc.

California. We were all dancing and just excited, and I decided in the middle of dancing with her that I would ask her for her phone number.

Trina was the only woman in college who gave me her real telephone number. The next day, we walked to Baskin-Robbins, an ice cream parlor. My friends couldn't believe it; this has been 40 years ago, and my friends still can't believe it.

We went on a second date, a third date, and a fourth date. Mm-hmm. We drove from Chico to Vallejo so that she could meet my parents. My father meets her, my dad, my hero, pulls me to the side and says, 'Is she psycho?' But anyway, we went together for a year, two years, three years, four years. By now, Trina's a senior in college.

I'm still a freshman, but I'm working some things out. I'm so glad I graduated in four years: Nixon, Ford, Carter, Reagan.

So now it's time to propose. I talked to her girlfriends, and it's California; it's in the 70s.

So it has to be outside, you have to have a candle and you have to have, you know, some chocolate. Listen, I'm from the hood; I had a bottle of Boone's Farm wine, that's what I had.

She said yes, that was the key. I married the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. Have y'all ever been to a wedding, and even before the wedding starts, you hear this? How in the world?

And it was coming from my side of the family. We get married, we have a few children, our lives are great. One day, Trina finds a lump in her left breast.

Breast cancer. Six years after that diagnosis, my two little boys and I walked up to Mommy's casket, and for two years, my heart didn't beat.

If it wasn't for my faith in God, I wouldn't be standing here today. If it wasn't for those two little boys, there'd have been no reason for me to go on.

I was completely lost. That was rock bottom. You know what sustained me?

The wisdom of a third-grade dropout, the wisdom of a simple cook. At the casket, I'd never seen my dad cry.

But this time, I saw my dad cry. That was his daughter. Trina was his daughter, not his daughter-in-law, and I'm right behind my father about to see her for the last time on this earth.

And my father shared three words with me that changed my life right there at the casket. It would be the last lesson he would ever teach me.

He said, "Son, just stand. You keep standing. You keep spitting no matter how rough the sea. You keep standing, and I'm not talking about just water.

You keep standing no matter what. You don't give up, and as clearly as I'm talking to you today, these were some of her last words to me.

She looked me in the eye and she said, "It doesn't matter to me any longer how long I live. What matters to me most is how I live." Shawl, one question, a question that I was asked all my life by a third-grade dropout: How are you living?

How are you living every day? Ask yourself that question: how are you living? Here's what a cook would suggest.

You should live this way: that you would not judge, that you would show up early, that you'd be kind, that you'd make sure that the service is sound.

It's huge, and he used to say that if you're gonna do something, you do it the right way. That cook would tell you this.

That it's never wrong to do the right thing; how you do anything is how you do everything. And in that way, you will grow your influence to make an impact. In that way, you will honor all those who have gone before you.

Those who have invested in you, it is with great honor. Did I say all your life? Look in those unlikeliest places for wisdom.

Enhance your life every day by seeking that wisdom and asking yourself every night: 'What did I learn today?'.

졸업식장을 웃음과 눈물바다로 만든 한 남자의 사연

Scripts