Last Sunday, before the morning worship service started at our church (Phoenix United Reformed Church), my wife came to me with a necktie in her hand. “Would you please tie this for Lloyd?” Lloyd is a good friend, a retired pastor, and in this season of his life — in his 80s — some tasks have become more difficult for him. “Sure,” I said. I put his tie around my neck, tied it, then slide it over my head to give to Lloyd. It took me about 10 seconds and I didn’t give it a second thought. It was a simple thing to do to help a friend.
But that afternoon, I reflected on the very ordinary act of tying a necktie. Frankly, it’s not something I do much these days. Since moving to Arizona in 2012, I’ve switched from neckties to bolos. While I still have many ties — here’s a photo of just a few that I still have in my closet. . .
. . . bolos now hang on my tie rack:
It’s a southwest thing, and bolos appeal to my artistic sensibility.
Still, when I tied Lloyd’s necktie, I used the only necktie knot I know how to tie: the full Windsor knot. My mind turned to my father. It was he who taught me how to make this knot when I wore a tie. And every time I tie a tie, I am grateful that he taught me how to do this.
In a sense, part of my father’s legacy to me is having passed down this simple thing, the act of tying a necktie in a particular way. He gave me other gifts as well, such as a love for reading. My mind continued down that road, reflecting on the legacy that many other family members who have also gone to their heavenly home gave to me. My mother’s love of music, my grandmother’s love of adventure, my father-in-law’s love of working with his hands. All of these people and many others had lives that intersected with mine in ways large and small. And each of us is the product of the investment that others made in us. They gave me things that are with me every day. Not physical things, but things that required their investing time with me, to show me how to do something, or how to think of something, or how to recall and remember something and then put it into action.
Tying a necktie is not really such a big deal. But last Sunday morning, it reminded me how grateful I am for those who taught me things like this, and it was an encouragement to me as I have endeavored to pass things on to others. It reminded me of this: never underestimate the value of any kind of investment you make in another person. They may very well remember it long after you’ve forgotten it, long after you are gone. You may not have thought so at the time, but you made a difference; you wrote a small piece of your legacy. Like my father did when he taught his son how to tie a full Windsor knot so I could help a friend on a Sunday morning.
The Last Trombone 