Today is my Dad’s birthday; he’d be 72 today. There’s not really a day that goes by that I don’t miss him. In fact, there are many days that the impossible finality of losing my Dad and then shortly thereafter, most of the rest of my family seems unbearable, but my family wasn’t much for grief and sadness, they were more about carrying on and so that’s what I do. My Dad really was a great guy, he worked tirelessly to eradicate polio through Rotary Club, he marched on Washington for Civil Rights, he collected eye glasses to donate to those in need (It’s fitting that his eyes went to a man in Chicago.), and he spearheaded an effort to create a diabetic shoe clinic in the Philippines. He was a guy who stepped up. He wasn’t a Saint, though, he was a complicated guy, he was well-liked and well-spoken, but would prefer to be alone in his library with his books and his maps given the chance, unless of course, he could be out charming the ladies. That was my Dad. This sort of post on Facebook has a tendency to generate ‘likes’ and words of comfort, and I truly appreciate all the kind words, I do… But here’s the thing, my Dad died because someone thought, “Eh, this can wait until morning…” and it couldn’t. My Dad couldn’t wait until morning for the necessary surgery that could have saved his life. The surgeon simply didn’t do his job to the best of his ability and take care of my Dad. Of course, maybe I didn’t do my job as a daughter and as a paramedic. Maybe if I had explained things more carefully or pushed my Dad a little harder, he would have been more proactive. Certainly, my Dad could have done a better job taking care of himself. I know today if he knew the pain caused to his daughter and his beloved sister and mother, he would have done things differently. I also know my story isn’t special. I think that’s the most heartbreaking thing about it. Working in crisis response, I see terrible tragedies, accidents, suicides, homicides, and unnecessary losses and wonder if all the unbearable sorrow could have been prevented. The truth is, for the most part, it can be prevented. If we all just stepped up a little more, instead of stepping back; took a little more responsibility, instead of turfing it off; if we said, “I can do that,” instead of, “That’s not my job.” So, I’m asking YOU, personally, today, in honor of my Dad and all the people that are looked past for just a little too long, can we make today, “Do Your Job” Day? I’m not asking for a million ‘Shares’ on Facebook (although feel free to share if you’d like), I’m not asking you to vote for something, or sign something, buy a t-shirt, run a race, wear a color or a ribbon, or donate money. I’m asking you to take a minute today and think about what your job is, what your role is, in society, and then just step up a little bit more and do it. I’m not asking you to undertake the vast role of saving the world, I’m asking you to pick up a piece of trash, say hello to your neighbor, smile at the homeless. Give your kid an extra hug and remind your spouse why you love them. Professors, answer that e-mail, your student may need you. Baristas, make that coffee right, it might be the thing that carries a person through the day. Casting Directors, be a little kinder, you could be that actor’s last hope. Police, fire, and EMS, be a little more empathic than you need to be, remember you’re seeing people at their worst, they deserve your best. Whether you’re a cashier or a ticket taker or a sales person, just be a little kinder, you have no idea how your small action may ripple through the world. And take care of yourselves, there are people who love you more than they can say. No matter how small you think your role is in society, please take one minute today to make it a little bigger, make it a little better. Your actions matter in ways that you will never know. And your actions matter today. Let’s make today, officially, “Do Your Job” Day and maybe tomorrow we’ll wake up to a slightly better world… And if you just so happen to be a cardiothoracic surgeon and a patient comes in needing life-saving surgery, please do the surgery now, and maybe tomorrow a little girl won’t be missing her Daddy. Thanks in advance.
