The Legacy of a Well-Read Life: Celebrating Dad’s 86 Years

This is a long one. Mostly written for me… and for Dad, and those who know and love him.

So, why then share this on LinkedIN (as I have done separately), and why share here? Why share anywhere? 

First, as far as LinkedIn goes, Dad was a pretty successful business guy. One of a kind really, in terms of balancing business results with a unique sense of humanity. Don’t take it from me, there are others who worked with him for decades who will vouch for this. You can Google him if you don’t know him – or save yourself a few minutes and Perplexity him (don’t use Perplexity yet? well, the worm has turned for you friend…). His name is John, like mine. 

Second, on a more personal note, I’ve spent most of a lifetime trying to stay anonymous, get out of the shadow of that pretty successful business guy, do my own thing trying to prove I didn’t need the advantages it turned out could never be stripped away. Sharing this short story outside of the safety of my personal journal is evidence that I’ve deemed the task of anonymity not only impossible but also unnecessary and possibly even negligent. There are too many areas where Dad has taught me valuable lessons that shouldn’t be kept to myself because of insecurities and ego. I’ve had a front passenger seat – and at times even a driver’s seat – in one of the most amazing life journeys imaginable – the least I can do is share some of the wisdom I’ve uniquely gained from it.

My time with Dad a couple of weeks ago taught me even more than I thought I already knew about the importance of reading, of paying attention to history, and of critical open-minded thinking and dialogue. Mostly, however, it reminded me that just being there with loved ones during even the most challenging health situations can lead to silver linings, serenity and lessons that last years if not a lifetime.

EMERGENCY DRIVE TO CINCINNATI

Dad turned 86 that Friday. I was with him. We were at Christ Hospital in Cincinnati, the same hospital where my brothers and I were born (Susie was born in Brussels). In addition to balloons, for his birthday present the hope was he would be discharged.

I had flown from Boston to Toronto 3 nights earlier with a plan to pick him up the next morning when he, too, would land in Toronto. He and I were set to join the rest of the family up north at the cottage in Georgian Bay where we would all celebrate his special day, as we always do. Mom was already up there which made the anticipated week as a family extra special. 

Unfortunately, the plan collapsed. He was admitted to the ER the night before and it became clear the next morning my only option was to turn my Jeep south to Cinci. Nearly 8 hours later, with only a quick stop at Old Scratch Pizza in Troy, Ohio (highly recommended), I arrived and went straight to the 5th floor where he had been admitted for several serious medical issues. He was pretty out of it when I arrived, dozing in a Lazy Boy kind of chair, chin dropped, snoring a bit. I was exhausted, too, and passed out in the hospital bed next to his chair for the next hour or so. Things were up in the air – as in, nobody knew for sure what was happening – for the next 24 hours, but as he has proven repeatedly in his long life, his resilience and determination will always give father time a good run for its money.

He got his birthday wish, and we left the hospital around noon on Friday.

We got home and my sister Susie had arrived from North Carolina to relieve me so I could head north, but we decided it would be better for two of us to stay with him for a little while longer. Just in case.

What followed was one of those gifts in life you really can’t ever anticipate. 

My parents still live in the same house they bought in 1978, in a suburb north of Cincinnati called Wyoming. I was 8 years old when we moved there. It’s not a small house. And there is a LOT of stuff in almost every crevice imaginable. To me, having already downsized and purged shortly after turning 50 (one of those Covid-era projects), its overwhelming at times.

Without delving into details as to why, within a few hours of Dad’s return home, he, Susie and I had parked ourselves in his bedroom where there were books laid out in piles all over the floor and the couches and side tables. Every book shelf was stuffed to the max. This is how it had been for years. We would start here, we decided. Lighten the load, purge, simplify. Little did we know that was the beginning of the most in-depth 3-day book review of the likes Susie and I could ever have imagined. 

By the time I finally did leave for Canada on Sunday, we had sifted through over 700 of his books. Literally touched and discussed for at least a few seconds and often far longer before making a “stay, relocate, or donate” decision. Almost every book meant something to him. His recollection was extraordinary. I think he had 7 biographies of Abraham Lincoln and 6 on Churchill. Stalin and Hitler were prevalent, along with at least a dozen former US presidents, not to mention many historical figures of whom I had little to no knowledge. (I had Perplexity pulled up throughout this 3-day journey to help get up to speed as we went). 

“Did each author really think he or she had something new to bring to the table?!” I asked incredulously. “You really felt compelled to read all of these versions of the same character?” 

The answer wasn’t just yes, but emphatically so with thoughtful reasons why. We organized books by battles, wars, countries, politics, and of course biographies. There were a lot of business wisdom and philosophy books, too. In the end, over 300 of these books left the house in a couple dozen office boxes and were donated to the Friends of Cincinnati Library. The gaps left by the departed books were filled with family pictures that had taken over entire desk surfaces as well as the kitchen table and even countertops to a point where those surfaces were no longer usable. 

At the end of the second day of playing librarian, Susie, Dad and I ended up back in the ER for another 5 hours. We got home late on Saturday night. While waiting for tests and scans and the like, we obsessed about finishing our work if we could. For a while, it looked like he would be re-admitted which was not good news, until one of the tests indicated things were now resolving and he was soon discharged again. When we woke up Sunday morning, the only thing Dad asked of me before I hit the road was to finish the last few shelves of books we hadn’t gotten to. And so we did. 

Just before I left for Canada late that morning, I snapped this photo of Dad sitting in front of his now fully organized office bookshelves. With about 400 titles remaining, we now have a super tailored, personally hand-picked set of books that Dad very intentionally kept on his shelves for him to thumb through in his remaining years and for the rest of us to consider adding to our lists in ours. 

People often ask me how my Dad, also John Pepper, accomplished all he did in his 40 years at Procter & Gamble, another 7 years as Chairman of the Board at The Walt Disney Company, and too many philanthropic leadership roles to list (but special shout out to the National Underground Railroad Freedom Center).

There are so many reasons he was successful, a major one being luck and good fortune, Dad will the first to say. But three specific reasons in my mind are as follows:

Number one was my Mom enabled him, encouraged him, and supported him every step of the way. He didn’t have to lift a finger at home – she did it all, kids, taxes, logistics for all of our international moves, etc. Literally, Mom crushed it.

Second, he worked really, really hard – but also efficiently. And I’m talking freak of nature type diligence and discipline (it seems of all my siblings, my brother David has been most blessed with this character attribute or defect depending on how you look at it). Simple math on that one.

Third, he was extremely well read. As far back as I can remember he had one or two books going at any given time. He devoured thick, serious books like they were Archie comic books. Truly an overwhelming number of books, to be honest. And even well into his 80’s, he remembers so many of them, their authors, and why certain books meant so much to his personal, spiritual, and professional growth.

While I was driving later on Sunday morning, an email notification popped up from Dad that included a draft of a short piece he is working on called “Why I love to Read.” He asked for my comments. I haven’t responded back to him because I really don’t have any, but with his permission a few minutes ago I’m including it below for others to see. It’s a “draft” he says, I beg to differ. 

Enjoy.

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“Why I Love To Read” (Draft)

Sometimes you don’t adequately appreciate what you love until it is denied to you; until you no longer have it.  This happened to me with my reading.  Last year, I had a knee replacement.  The recovery was painful.  I could hardly sleep through the night.  The challenge went on for weeks, indeed, for several months.  One of the consequences, one I had not expected, was that I could no longer concentrate on reading, nothing more than a couple of paragraphs in a newspaper.  That was painful.  It was worse than being denied my first cup of coffee in the morning.

I can recall the day, vividly, when I discovered, “I can read again.”  It was a far greater gift than I had realized.

So what accounts for my love of reading?  And what difference has what I’ve learned from reading made in my life?  What insights have I gained?  What have I come to appreciate in a way I otherwise might not have if I had not been such a voracious reader? 

To answer the question of what accounts for my love of reading, I have to go back to when I was very young.  The answer, then, when I was growing up, would have been that reading was a source of escape for me. 

In truth, I sought refuge in books. In words I wouldn’t have chosen then but which ring true today, “Reading let me know I wasn’t alone.”

Why was I seeking that refuge and escape? Why was I seeking the companionship which books brought me? 

For a couple of reasons. I wasn’t popular. I wasn’t a member of the “in” group. What’s more, my family life, while lifted by the love and positive expectations of my parents, was troubled and unsettled by my father’s alcoholism.

So I immersed myself in books, every chance I could get. In the life of Robinson Crusoe, the adventures of the Hardy Boys or, a bit later, the story of Lincoln.  As I read, I felt a sense of peace and adventure and belonging and accomplishment. 

If my love of reading was initially a form of escape, before long it became a form of exploration, discovery and learning. I found myself discovering worlds and ideas and people beyond those I knew. I found great books were teaching me about myself and shaping my vision of who I aspired to be.

As the years and decades have unfolded since then, reading great books has helped mold my life, shape my values, guide me in my learning and inspire me to be my best.

Reading has:

• Fueled my commitment to learn what is right and do what is right.   This commitment has been strengthened by the values and lives of people I have met in the books I’ve read.

• Reinforced the reality that all of us carry imperfections.  This has made me more tolerant of other people; it has made me more focused on seeing what is good in others and to be nourished by that goodness.  It has helped me be more tolerant of myself, to accept my own imperfections, seeking to overcome them, yes, but knowing that perfection is an ideal ultimately, in my view, beyond reach.

• Made me far more aware of the privilege of my circumstances and, hence, I believe, more motivated to help give other people the opportunity to be all they can be.

• I have been continually reinforced in the conviction that knowledge of history, of what is good and should be repeated, and what is evil and what should not be repeated, is vital to charting the best course forward.

• Taught me that I am not alone in the challenges I face. I took heart from how others  have faced and overcome challenges far greater than mine. 

• It illuminated stories and the lives of people who embody the values which I have tried to live by: integrity, courage, persistence, and the pursuit of what I believe is right.  

• Taught me that personal leadership makes things happen. That while there are trends that are inexorable, the difference that the individual makes in shaping these trends often is decisive.

• Has given me inspiration from the lives and character of great leaders. I have been reinforced in the realization that it takes wisdom, courage and persistence to make a change in anything that is truly important. That has had everything to do with how I’ve tried to lead and encourage others to lead.

• Helped me understand the root causes of events and the relative role of context, circumstance, sheer luck and individual agency.

• Has shaped my recognition that there is great goodness in the world, but also evil and that if I and all good people don’t stand up courageously and persistently for the good, we’re going to suffer the evil.

• Has fueled my respect and appreciation for different societies and cultures as I learned about their unique histories and belief systems and their accomplishments and the challenges they have and continue to face. This recognition has fired my determination at Procter & Gamble and later at The Walt Disney Company to respect national and regional identities as we operate globally.

• Has made it crystal-clear that great achievements and change are never achieved without setbacks and the wisdom and courage to make course corrections to one’s original strategy. This has been of help to me as I thought about how to pursue some of the biggest challenges of my career.

• Has cemented my belief that in order for any institution to survive and grow–a matter that is in no way foreordained–its leaders must achieve that fine balance of preserving the most important core values fundamental to success while being prepared to take action to change everything else.

• Helped me understand the dual existence of the best and worst in human nature and all of us and has helped me strive to pursue what is best.

• Afforded me the inspiring experience–and challenge– of a writer’s relentless probing for truth through deep analysis and balanced and nuanced interpretation.  “Pursuit of truth” has been a guide for my life.

• Built my appreciation of and desire to achieve the wonder of  the perfectly chosen word, and the eloquently turned phrase and sentence.  A piece of writing that impacts me with such force that I ponder: “How could the writer ever say it that clearly or that beautifully?”  It’s akin to my reaction to a great painting or sculpture or film.  A goal beyond my reach but a goal to be sought.

Summing it all up, reading has fired my love of learning, my curiosity, my desire to understand cause and effect, to seek truth, to understand the difference an individual can make, and realize that “everyone counts.”  Above all, it has helped me see and appreciate the importance of family and love and the beauty in people, in nature and in the world around us. 

Finally, reading has led me to be more thankful to God for allowing make this blessed journey of more than 85  years, lifted by my remarkable family:  my wife Francie, our four children and their spouses and my 10 grandchildren.