For Mike...

Twelve years ago this coming Sunday the world lost a truly good man, and I lost one of my dearest friends. My father-in-law Mike Somdal died of a heart attack. He was 53 years-old. I still think of him often; his sharp mind, his goofy sense of humor, his (well, let’s say bold) sense of style, and his huge spirit. He serves as a model for what I mean when I talk about Virtue Therapy: growing and healing by doing little acts of goodness again, and again, and again.

Aristotle put it this way: “Excellence is a habit, not an act.” People can talk and feel until they’re blue in the face, but if it doesn’t translate into purposeful action, if people don’t MOVE on their insights and self-knowledge, no lasting change is going to happen. Mike got this. He took advantage of the host of opportunities that present themselves daily to all of us, and did the little things…with great love, great attention to detail, and great humility. Mike had many admirable qualities, but here I want to focus on his generosity….and a particular evening I’ll never forget.

It was his birthday party, and Mike adored his birthday. He loved the chance to be the self-appointed director of fun and laughter, as it was officially his day. His family had gathered around him to celebrate, and although Mike and I shared the same birthday month I never imagined being in the evening’s spotlight with him. I had just begun dating Jenni and was just glad to be included. However, when his birthday cake was brought out, it read “Happy Birthday Mike and Ross.” Grinning from ear to ear, he also insisted that everyone sing “Happy Birthday” to the both of us. Not that big a deal? Put yourself in his shoes for a moment. Some young kid comes into your only daughter’s life and after only a few months displaces you as her most significant man. No twinge of jealousy? No concern that maybe things were moving faster than they should? No temptation to subtly remind the young man that his place was one notch down in the pecking order? Mike could have felt any of those emotions and it would have been perfectly normal, but if he did he kept them completely hidden. I believe the thought never even crossed his mind, because my father-in-law had already been practicing generosity for years. In little and big ways he had been giving with joy, and not counting the cost. It had become second nature to him, and he was genuinely pleased to be able to welcome me into his family, even if it meant that he had to move to the side just a little. For Mike, this was just one more little opportunity to be generous. Yet, I’m still feeling blessed by it nearly twenty-two years later.

It helps to have an example of the virtue you wish to acquire, to picture and emulate as you work toward the goal. When I think of generosity, I think of my father-in-law. His grave marker reads: “His was a rare and brilliant life.” Truer words have never been spoken. I love you Mike.