Friends,
It’s late, the night after my deadline for writing this, my last President’s message of the year. This is usually the time when the words start flowing freely, but tonight it’s not really happening. (A note from the future: so he says before indeed proceeding to successfully tap out a few meandering pages…) Procrastination is the name of my trusty, if tardy, steed that I’ve ridden into battle many times and come out victorious, but the risk is that she comes up lame sometimes. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m out of ideas after a year of writing these or that I actually have so much to say but can’t figure out where to start. Maybe it’s time to throw a saddle on that old mule we all have in our stable, the one people often trot out when they can’t think of something original to ride: famous quotations. (That could actually be a good racehorse name. Aaaaaaand it’s Famous Quotations by half a furlong!). I’ll start with A.A. Milne, who astutely said: “A quotation is a handy thing to have about, saving one the trouble of thinking for oneself, always a laborious business.” And we’re off…
I had the opportunity a few weeks ago to attend the annual business meeting for a collegial construction law organization that, as an association maven of sorts, I admire greatly. It featured a speech from a departing president and the presentation of awards to distinguished members. I excitedly took notes. The word “lifeblood” was uttered in regard to their committees, proof that our language needs to develop a broader vocabulary in this area. As you can imagine, quotations were tossed about like so much confetti, some better and less clichéd than others. A few lines from engineer and quote machine, James Buchanan Eads, caught my ear and I did a bit of sleuthing on him. Eads seems to have endearingly toed the line between humility and hubris throughout his career in a way that could have inspired Muhammad Ali a century later and should inspire us today (see my message last month). In a speech given at the dedication of his pioneering, namesake bridge across the Mississippi River in 1847, he produced a few gems that spoke to me about the last 12 months: “The love of praise is, I believe, common to all men, and whether it be a frailty or a virtue, I plead no exemption from its fascination. The wish to merit the good opinion of our fellow-citizens, and especially of those whom we respect and esteem, is a laudable stimulus to effort… It is of itself a high privilege to feel that I stand before you as the representative of a community of earnest men, whose combined labor, brains, and wealth, have built up this monument of usefulness for their fellowmen.” As much as I fancy myself someone that doesn’t care too much what others think of me, nothing brings out the best in a person like the pressure of representing a group of people that you greatly admire and would be embarrassed to let down. I certainly hope I haven’t.
I’ve always appreciated the way different languages include some very specific, nuanced words or concepts, often out of shear practicality, but sometimes because it identifies an idea or value that’s important to or somehow encapsulates that culture. Sisu, ikigai, hygge, L’esprit de l’escalier are personal favorites I’ve appropriated. A Hawaiian award recipient at the aforementioned meeting introduced me to a new one in his speech: kōkua. As he described it, the meaning of the noun/verb is more complex than just helping or cooperating, it’s identifying an unmet need in your community and feeling a duty to step up and help, without expecting anything in return.
Thanks to our robust policies and procedures and dedicated administrative team, SEAONC does kinda “run itself,” but I’d argue that it’s probably just idling or treading water in those cases. Kōkua is the difference between a sterile, stagnant organization and vital and lasting one that’s bigger than just the sum of its members. If we want SEAONC to grow, stay relevant and continue to serve us, it takes a leadership group that cares about its wellbeing. SEAONC needs water, but not too much water. Mix in the right amount of food. Sun, but also some shade at times. Regular grooming and being checked for bugs. Am I talking about horses now or have I moved to the tomato vines I planted last month? I don’t know anymore.
But the great part about being a gardener or trainer is that at the end of a long season you get to harvest the fruits of your labor. Undersized tomatoes. A cut of the purse. Or, you know, a supportive community of friends and colleagues. And the thing about a community rich in kōkua, one where nobody expects something in return for their service, is that they are rewarded for it by the continued existence of a community full of kōkua. Those acts of kindness multiply, inspiring others to do the same. I really do hope that if you’ve been the beneficiary of everything our community has to offer, that you’ll consider heeding that call to step up and help take the reins for a bit, or one of the many smaller, shorter-term roles that we have throughout our association. We all bring our unique strengths to these roles, and that’s what’s great about it. Quoth kōkua advocate and modern-day radical Gregg Alexander, “You only get what you give.”
There are some outward perks to serving as President, but they are not for me, per se. There have been plenty of other more subtle rewards that will last far longer. I’ve been personally rewarded by having this newsletter venue as a creative outlet with an assumed license to think deeply and wax “poetic” about our profession and knowing that so many of you actually read these musings. I’ve been rewarded by getting to connect with so many more of you all than I ever imagined, by email and in person, in large venues, or one-on-one over coffee. I’ve had the honor of being trusted with your critiques and complaints about the profession and our Association, given the opportunity to help our Association serve you better – it takes time to change but I promise we hear you and are trying. I’ve had the privilege of basking in the warm afterglow of a successful SEAONC event, where success can be measured both in terms of the number of butts in seats or the number of new faces (noting that the two often do not peak at the same event). And I’ve been rewarded with a far greater knowledge of and appreciation for our profession, our struggles and successes, that I could have imagined. I know that my board colleagues and your committee chairs share the sentiment. The thing that saddens me the most about this moment is that I finally feel prepared to serve as President just as I’m stepping down. It is our hope that by spreading the leadership work out between four officers next year, we ease the individual workload, improve continuity, and that this year’s incoming Treasurer feels far better prepared for their Presidency than I did.
Back in the fall, probably when I was up late plunking away at one of these messages, surrounded by half-packed moving boxes and a suitcase for a plane I was about to catch early the next morning, my wife asked if I’d bitten off more than I could chew by raising my hand for this role at this point in my life. I obviously declined to answer because my mom taught me that it’s not polite to talk with your mouth full. Months of frantic mastication later and with a trail of crumbs littering the road behind me, I can finally swallow and tell her “No.” It has been a lot, no doubt, but it’s been the honor of my career to be here representing this community and this Association that we’ve built together as a monument to it. Your praise and feedback have been a laudable stimulus to effort. I wouldn’t trade this experience for anything. And when is it ever a good time for something like this? Man plans, God laughs, as they say, so when you hear the call for help, sometimes you just jump on the horse (we’re still on horses, right?) as it gallops by and hang on tight.
If you’re still reading, I wanted to take the opportunity while I still have this pulpit to express some gratitude. Thank you to my wife, son, family, friends, and coworkers for your patience and support despite probably never quite understanding what this role entailed for me. Thank you to our devoted Board for speaking up and contributing your unique perspectives and ideas through this time of transition for our Association, accommodating my unpredictable schedule this year and supporting my hairbrained schemes, with special thanks to outgoing Board members Noelle, Jenna, and Badri. Thank you to soon-to-be President Cassedy for coming along for the ride; I know you don’t feel ready for this, just as I didn’t, but you’ll rock and the year will be done before you know it. I’m excited to see your style and vision come forth. Thank you to Past President Feng for your continued hard work, advice, and assistance when you saw me floundering. You now get to transition from the second-best title, Past President, to the best title, Past-Past President! Thank you to our committee chairs for stepping up with some great programming and continuing to be the real MVPs of this Association. Thank you to the NCSEA team staffing our Office this past year and next, who stepped in to help us during a time of need and are following the “campground rule” by working to leave us better than they found us. And finally, thank you to our members: I know you didn’t really “choose” me or many of your leaders, but thank you for supporting us and SEAONC more broadly with your pocketbooks and presence at our events. Engagement is our best measure of whether or not we’re doing a good job, so thank you for making this such a great year and a rewarding experience for us all.
Yours,
David Ojala
dojala@thorntontomasetti.com