My mom.  She’s wicked smart, with a list of accomplishments a mile long. She’s interested in everything and everyone. She’s tall and elegant. Has worked on Madison Avenue. Raised three children. Co-authored a book. And has volunteered gazillions of hours for any number of causes. At 85, she bounces from book groups to bridge games to water aerobics. She loves texting, Pandora and Words with Friends.
She’s been in love with and happily married to my dad for over sixty years, the last two of which she’s selflessly and patiently taken care of him and nearly all of the household responsibilities. When I asked how she’s getting through it, she answered without hesitation, “I’m grateful for every day he’s here. It’s still fun.”
My mom’s courageous spirit knows no bounds. I have vivid memories of her riding a horse bareback across a river in Wyoming and sliding down a Canadian glacier on a windbreaker. I watched her stare down death in her early fifties, refusing to succumb to leukemia and fearlessly embracing every option for recovery, no matter how long the odds.
Had my mom been born a little later, she would have had a brilliant career. I can easily imagine her running a publishing company or a world-class cultural institution. Instead, she channeled her endless energy and intelligence into making a difference in our schools, church, the historical society and other endeavors too numerous to list.
And she became a cheerleader for me, and my career. When it took nearly a year to get my first job in advertising, she encouraged me to persevere. When a TV commercial I’d created appeared on the Super Bowl, she threw a party to celebrate. And when I was promoted to President of the ad agency—and paralyzed with fear—she encouraged me to lean in and push through it. My mom didn’t know much about owning a company, or dealing with difficult clients, or managing 25 people. But she knew a lot about me. I can’t recall my mother ever speaking about the barriers placed between women and positions of leadership. Not that she was unaware or indifferent—she just didn’t experience them the same way many of us have. What it all comes down to is simply this: my mom is a champion and advocate for anyone whose goal is to be their best self and leave the world a little better than they found it. I think that’s what inspires me most of all.