What is in a Name

 

In a simplistic sense our lives are the systematic process of compiling the decisions we make and the results that unfold.  Some decisions are good and others less desirable, some made from virtue and others out of necessity.  Individually these decisions do not seem that important, but aggregated together and compounded over time, these small decisions become a substantial portion of who we are.  As children, we are playable, a blank canvas of sorts.  It is a beautiful thing to see a child on the shoulders of their parent, playing catch in the front lawn or sitting together with their family at the dinner table.  Their growth and development occur as they learn from the decision making of their parents.  Some of these attributes will be developed in recognition of one’s parents and other will be developed in opposition.

The good life appears from the outside, to be for the child who grows up with loving parents.  The kind who makes good decisions and spend ample time teaching their kids lessons accumulated over generational transferring of wisdom and behavior.  However, it seems all too often that children with the learning and rich traditions of the past choose an opposing route.  The valuable traditions that were learned through trial and tribulation are cast out and trampled under the foot in the name of supposed progress.

While much discussion can be had on the reasons why character tends to fade when coupled with generational success.  I would rather focus on the well spring of character creation that is pain and despair.  In the words of Thoreau, “You cannot dream yourself into a character; you must hammer and forge yourself one.”  Or Van Goethe, “From the wasteland that is our broken spirit and mangled dreams comes the fertile grounds of possibility.”

When I was in College, I went to visit my Grandpa.  He was a stoic and strong man who had lived a difficult life.  At 10 years old, he lost his oldest Sister to a fire in their barrio, followed by losing his Mother the next year to illness and his Father was run over by a truck and died the year after.  Raised along with his younger siblings by his maternal aunt, he found himself in a world of great loss, a world made of heartbreak and trial.  Yet from this he evolved into a man of great substance and character.  His question to me on this visit was, “What are you going to do for work?”  My response was simple enough, I said that I was planning to just be in trucking like my Dad.  I will never forget his response and the fire in his eyes that I swear scorched my eyebrows.  He said, “Your job is not to do what your dad did, your job is to do better than him, your job is to move your last name forward.”

The message was clear, my life is not my own.  I stand not as an individual free to make my own decisions and do as I please, but rather as a byproduct of the toil and trial of those who came before me.  I realized then that I am not special, but my choices have value.  I learned that there is a debt that I inherited that is owed to the Campos’ that preceded me.  Their pain, struggle, strife and famine are the steps that I know walk across into a life of great possibility.   

This same Grandpa and my Grandma made a choice despite their limited means to adopt a baby that was dropped before them.  They received no compensation or praise, in fact, they had to pay a lawyer to complete the process with he State of California.  I do not know why they did it or how they did it, but when the easy path and the hard path were placed before them, they chose the hard path.  I wish I could say that the road was easy for that adopted baby, but it was not.  My grandparents divorced several years later, and the little boy grew in relative poverty.  The blonde haired, blue eyed boy learned at age 11 that he was not Mexican and by the age of 17 he was given an ultimatum by a well-meaning High School Principal.  Flunk High School or join the military. 

So, off the young man left to see the world in the Navy.  Coming back, he met a woman who came from a challenging upbringing of her own and together they started a family.  They started a life together, not by any grand design, but out of necessity.  A boy who had never met a blood relative and a girl who was raised in a neighboring trailer park is not a popular storybook beginning.  They based their life on two foundational principles that they wanted their kids to have.  1) That their kids would be allowed to be kids, to grow, create, learn and make mistakes.  2) That they would make responsible decisions, the slow and steady path.  There is no glamour or glitter for this lifetime achievement award.  It is a bitter sacrifice that represents the foregoing of a great many possible choices.

So, we all make our decisions, and, in the end, we are left with two roads.  The first being the road we took and the second being the litany of different journeys that were possible.  Each decision open to a great deal of retrospection by those who made the decision and by those that lived with the decision.  But in the end, like the world’s greatest choose your own adventure book, we are left with what came of those decisions.  A life lived, connections made, and elements of character were forged. 

When each of us look at our lives and the lives of those who made us.  It is important to consider that which might have been, as long is its suitable soil to learn and grow from.  Regardless of our circumstance, we should always be grateful for the tremendous effort that came from the wobbly arms that propped us up.  They are the source of you as a possibility and that is a beautiful thing. 

If I may for a moment ask, take a moment and ponder that broken road that led you to where you are now.  Be thankful because for that path of great intentions.  As you think about the decisions you have made in your past, embrace the tedious work that is personal development.  You are likely far stronger than you give yourself credit for and your capabilities more impressive than ever thought.  And lastly, if there is air in your lungs and a beating in your heart, you can answer my Grandpa’s question.  I will move my name forward in gratitude for the sacrifices of those who created the foundation of the possibility of me.