Marshall Ramsey

Dave Ramsey changed my life.

No, I’m not talking about the amazing financial guy (who also happens to be my first cousin.)

I’m taking about my dad.

David Lawrence Ramsey was born March 15, 1935. He has a brother and sister, three kids and a wife. He served our country, owned a business and worked hard his whole life. He believed in an 8-year-old when he said, “I want to become an editorial cartoonist.” He also believed in a 22-year-old college graduate who ended up as a high school janitor. I know he is proud of a 48-year-old father of three.

I know. He told me yesterday.

This will probably be the last Father’s Day dad knows he has a son. Dementia is robbing him of so many of our shared memories. A man who waterskied at 78 is now barely able to walk with a walker. Time and a horrible disease are stealing him from my sisters and me. I can’t tell you how much it hurts to watch him being robbed like that.

As we sat in the lobby together, I told him of all the times he changed my life. When I was six, we were working on his 1953 Ford Pickup that he was restoring. At one point the wrench slipped and he crushed his fingers. He swore loudly, one of the first times I had heard him do that. I looked at him and said, “Isn’t that wrong?” He said, “Yes. But I try to make up for it by being good to people.”

Dad’s theology always made sense to me. He truly WAS good to people. I saw him help so many when he could have made a fortune off of them instead. I would have bought used car from him.

We talked about all the times we waterskied at my grandparent’s cabin in Tennessee. I teased him about trying to kill me when he’d try to make me fall. He grinned. Some memories are stickier than others!

Dad and I are very different people. He played basketball and baseball. I played football. He loved working on cars. I like drawing pictures of them. But I am very much his son.

As his light flickers out, his memory lives on in my sisters and me. All three of us can say without a doubt that he loved us more than he even loved himself.

Father’s Day is for most dads. Dad’s Day is how I celebrate my father.

Thank you Dave Ramsey. You changed my life.

Amy asked me what I wanted for Father’s Day. I pondered for a moment and pondered some more (I’m a proficient ponderer.)

I answered, “Nothing.”

Now I will admit, she hates that. She’s the kind of spouse who prefers decisiveness — something I am occasionally lacking. So I continued, “We just got back from a trip to New York City, which cost us a small fortune (and was well worth it).”

She has thrown out a few things she might get. I need glasses, which really aren’t a present per se — and eventually, we need to get another car. She ain’t buying me a car for Father’s Day. No red ribbons will be in my driveway.

But honestly, two weeks out, I really can’t think of anything I need. Why? Because I have three of the greatest sons I could ask for. All three of them are different from the other. And all three of them are brilliant in their own ways.

People ask me, “Do your kids draw?”

They don’t. But they are funny and creative. And the greatest gift they have given me is that they are excelling in their own passions. I love watching them soar in ways I never could.

They have grit, fight and are competitive. They take after their mother, of course. Lord knows they look like her!

I feel weird taking gifts on Father’s Day, because my three sons are the greatest gift ever given to me. They have changed me for the better. They taught me the power of unconditional love.

They made me a dad.

And that’s a present I get 365 days a year.

I get Monday off.

To get that day off, thousands of American’s gave their lives on the battlefield, in the air and on the sea. They faced fear, terror, pain, thirst and exhaustion. But they did their jobs and paid dearly.

I get Monday off.

I guess I could cookout. Or I could hit the beach.

I think of all the men who hit the beach in Normandy, Pelelui, Tarawa and Italy. I can’t imagine the chaos. But they kept running forward until they could run no more. Now they are silent sentinels in gardens of stone. The wrote the ultimate blank check to our country. And that check was cashed.

We live in a narcissistic age. We worry about trivial things and ignore problems around us. We’re angry and vent on social media. Our phones have our attention as we take selfies.

Monday is a holiday that honors just the opposite — It’s honors sacrifice for others.

And because someone else sacrificed for me, I get Monday off. I’ll celebrate accordingly.

I visited a friend of mine yesterday. He’s one of the most physically strong people I know — but I also admire him for his strong will (some would say he is hard-headed). His faith has strengthened exponentially this past year. And because of it, I’ve noticed a huge positive change in his life. That change has influenced the lives of so many people around him.

Now he is ill and in the hospital.

He has a struggle ahead of him — which isn’t the first he has faced. A few years ago, he nearly died — and if he wasn’t as strong as he is, he would have. But he pushed through the pain and made a miraculous recovery. Statistically he shouldn’t have made it. But he did. Did I mention he has the strongest will I’ve ever seen in a human being?

Well, he does.

I thought about him as I did my workout this morning. I was running with a 25-lb. weight and felt like I was going to croak. I felt pain — and lots of it. But then I quit thinking about myself and started thinking about him. I focused on his strength. And I thought how he motivates so many people. I pushed through the exercise and to the next one. Pain makes you sharper and stronger. Pain makes you humble.

I am praying for my friend as he and his family walk this difficult health journey. And I am saying a prayer of gratitude for all the positive change he has brought into my life. Angels come in strange and sometimes flawed forms. But they make you change for the better. I am a better man because of my friend.

Today I feel more urgency in my life. I want to get better and make the most of my days on the earth. I want to pay the blessing he has given me forward.

All thanks to my friend.

Twenty-five years after graduating from the University of Tennessee Knoxville, I’ll be giving the commencement address for the graduates of Holmes Community College. I can’t tell you how excited I am. And how I never dreamed I’d be bestowed such an honor back in 1991.

I knew what I wanted to do (be an editorial cartoonist) but the trail was ill-defined. I had no map — just a compass. That compass was a dream and heart. With no job in sight, (the newspaper business was in a downturn back then, thankfully that’s changed), I hung out with my friends James and Carol Neil Raxter for a few days. Then I limped home.

As I’ve written many times before, I ended up at Pope High School as a night custodian. I felt like it was a defeat, but in hindsight, it was my only true path to where I am now. My attitude and work ethic were sharpened. I made friends. And one of my coworkers set me up with her daughter.

We’ve been married nearly 23 years.

I learned that the path forward sometimes takes a step back — a lesson that I have lived over and over in my career. Things don’t come easy by design. Walls don’t keep you out. They determine how badly you want something.

Most of my worst career moments have led to my biggest career blessings. It’s a balm that keeps me from getting butt-hurt about bad things that happen. When walked across the stage, I thought my talent would propel me to greatness.

While it definitely got my foot in the door, I’ve found these three things have made a bigger difference:

1. Personal relationships.
2. Attitude
3. Work ethic.

I learned all three when I was a janitor. And I’m still learning it today.

I’ll speak for a few minutes, tell a few funny stories and sit down for the real stars of the show: The graduates. I’ll watch them cross the stage, grab hold of the paper that signifies mission accomplished and smile as they head off into the real world.

I wish them luck. As much luck as I’ve had. And when they don’t have any, I hope they remember that they can manufacture their own luck.

Just like I did 25 years ago.