I apologize up front for publishing this before Thanksgiving, but the thoughts poured into me this morning as I was thinking of things past. I want to share them with you while they’re fresh on my mind. While this blog has nothing to do with dental practice management, per se, it does have to do with our humanity; which is absolutely connected to our leadership and management styles.

Please forgive the personal bent – I’m not trying to advertise my virtues or those of my family, just giving examples of object lessons observed from my point of view.

I was raised in a family that was very generous. They never spoke of it; never said things like, “God’s been good to us, so…” They lived it each and every day. I only knew my mother’s family; never had any acquaintance with my father’s because he left when I was toddler. These are the people: grandmother, grandfather, aunts, and uncles, who were such an example to me. All but one of them has passed on, so I’m not worried about embarrassing them.

One of my uncles was an MD. My mother, an RN, worked with him in his pediatric medical practice for decades. It was just the two of them. To the best of my knowledge, there was never anyone turned away because they couldn’t pay. If you were related to them in any way, or a medical student, or family of an old friend, your money was no good there. In my younger days, I was thinking about going into medicine. Being young and stupid (not old & stupid like I am now), I asked my uncle if medicine was a good living. He told me, “Kim, if I hadn’t had kids, I couldn’t have spent the money I’ve made.” In retrospect, he was blessed by his generosity – it never caused his family to have to make-do with less.

My grandma owned some old homes that had been converted into apartment buildings. She had 22 apartments in 3 buildings. She was an incredible business woman. She had been widowed in 1955 and never remarried. She always had enough and to spare and I never remember her kicking someone out because they had fallen on rough times and couldn’t pay their rent. Because of this, some would say she was a lousy business woman.

My mother was helping out a young married neighbor family who had just had a new baby. She was doing their laundry for them (in her old wringer-style washing machine) and was taking a basket of clean, folded laundry to them when she slipped on the ice in front of our home and suffered a compound fracture to her femur. She was supporting me on a mission for the LDS Church at the time. Within two days, she was on her crutches hobbling around the office so my uncle wouldn’t have to worry about managing his practice and so she could keep the money flowing to me without having to ask for help (that’s called ‘self-reliance’, folks). He didn’t like it, but that was too bad as far as my mom was concerned.

My favorite time of year was Christmas. The Christmas season in Salt Lake City could be beautiful. I remember walking down South Temple Street through the quiet of a snow storm on the way to Temple Square to see the Christmas lights.

I grew up on the lower avenues and spent most of my time at my grandmother’s house on Second Ave and K St. An old house with hot water heat; it was very cozy in the winter. My grandmother and mother made the place into Santa’s kitchen during the holidays.

Grandma would make all kinds of cookies: chocolate chip, peanut butter, mincemeat, and Russian tea cakes. She would make centers for chocolates and our next door neighbor, who had worked as a chocolate maker, would come over and dip the chocolates. I can still see her hands in that melted chocolate; dipping and rolling, and making a little letter on top to tell what the center was.

Grandma had a back patio that was covered and walled on three sides. On the east side was a fireplace with ledges on both sides for cooking and serving. They’d load up trays with candy and cookies, cover them with dish towels and put them on the shelves outside.

Later, cases of fruit would arrive: apples as big as grapefruit, huge oranges, grapefruit, pineapple, and others I can’t remember. The cases were stacked out on the patio where they would be kept plenty cold. Then, the red & green mini bushel baskets were purchased.

Each evening for a couple of weeks before Christmas, my mom & I would fill some baskets with fruit and some plates with cookies and head out to friends and family to deliver them. It wasn’t a “knock and run”; no, my mom made me sit and visit and see how everyone was doing and what plans they had for Christmas. We went out three or four nights a week with the car filled with goodies. By the way, I was drafted to help with this through high school and continued after I returned from my Church mission.

Why did they do this? There was no ‘why’, it just was. There was never a word said about other people being needy, or that it was the right or nice thing to do; or “we’re generous people and this is what generous people do”. It was in their makeup from the core to do for others without stopping to think about it.

Shakespeare said that giving is twice blessed: blessing those who give as well as those who receive. I saw that in action on a regular basis.

Forgive me for waxing maudlin. We now return you to our regular programming.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!