A Landmark Apology

So, I think the worst thing I’ve ever done was the time I hurt the people I loved the most. And by the time I accepted responsibility it was much too late for a conversation and my letter of apology was sent in an envelope that was unaddressed.

My 2005 confession in front of about two hundred people seemed to come out of nowhere. I tagged along with one of my best friends for a training of sorts; didn’t think either one of us really needed three days of the Landmark Forum. But my friend had it from a good source that the experience would help make her a better dental team coach.

As we joined our classmates for the first morning session, I think we both sized up the rest of the crowd as a gathering of individuals needing some help much more urgently than us. I wondered about what was going to happen; what would I possibly get out of three 9:AM- 10:PM days?

The leader presented an introduction and some guidance on what to expect. The curriculum explored how truly open we were to self-examination, possibility, and transformation. We were encouraged to interact, ask questions, and take chances. For a day and a half, I was more of a spectator benched on the sidelines. As my fellow participants stood and delivered over some deeply personal issues, I couldn’t really make myself identify.

A typical share would be someone who was unhappy and holding their parents accountable. “How old were your parents when you were born?” “They were 19.” “Would anyone 19-years old please stand up? So, rather than be accountable for your own life, you would blame people like them for how you’re being?”

And then the topic became family. For no apparent reason, I became emotional, choked up. That’s when I found myself standing up among two hundred or so strangers, save one close friend. After introducing myself I heard, “You seem like a nice guy; I can already feel the knife in my back.” I’d just met the leader (Jerry) and he already had me confused with a total jerk.

Within the next ten minutes, things got real. It didn’t take Jerry long to zero in on my competitive core, expressed by always having the last word and making others wrong...with a smile on my face. He asked what it was about “family” that moved me to finally participate. It was my graduation from dental school. I hated my four years at USC. In my mind, I’d experienced the very short end of an unfair imbalance of power. I became a victim. And who did I make wrong this time? My parents; I didn’t walk for my graduation. My parents (who’d sacrificed everything for me) didn’t have the satisfaction of seeing their only surviving child graduate. Jerry asked how it felt to make my parents wrong; he suggested that I write a letter.

These days, my co-workers are my family; they didn’t apply for the position. We work at being creative, not competitive. We aspire to serve one another so that we can serve our patients and community and be extraordinary. We work at keeping our future a clean slate of possibility; we think in terms of how we are being (Are we being world class? Are we being appreciative?) Since 2005, I work at being a better listener; about offering support rather than blame…and not being a victim. I’m far from perfect but memories of 2005 help me retain a context.

Because for me, the context of family is an old photo resting atop a ledge on my fireplace: it’s my parents, my brother, and me. Or me and the last family members I ever made wrong… with apologies delivered in an unaddressed envelope.