Spring Along Cedar Creek

"What will you do, Richard?" asked Junior, our neighbor. We were standing at the water's edge, even though we were more than 500 yards from the creek's banks. It was me, 7-years-old or so, Junior, and my dad, Richard "Dick" Heston. The usually lazy brown waters of Cedar Creek were now a raging, swirling torrent of moving mud, sweeping fertile Iowa topsoil, and the crop that Dad had recently planted in it downstream. The financial implications were lost on me at age seven, but the perspective on how little we control some things resonated with me even then.

"I'll wait for the water to go down, and plant it again," Dad answered. "And if it floods again?" Junior continued. Dad said, "If there's time, I'll plant it again. If there isn't, I'll wait until next year."

Every Spring, even though I left the farm almost 30 years ago, and even though Dad's been gone for over 6 seasons, I remember standing there, and I remember the conversation as if it were yesterday. "If there's time, I'll plant it again. If there isn't, I'll wait until next year."

In my current job, as a senior executive in the Financial Services Marketing field, our fiscal year ends Tuesday, and I realize that the banking and investment industries that we serve suffered quite a flood during these past several months. Figuratively speaking, some of the seeds we planted this year might grow, but much of our success and that of our clients will hinge on how well we prepare the crop for this next season.

In my role as father to The Three Who Will Not Be Tamed, I realize how much they've grown over the winter, and how quickly the time will pass until they are at some point in their lives remembering some lesson that they learned from me.

This Spring, I find myself hoping that the lessons are positive, and that The Three might someday be better prepared for the floods they face, as I am today because of a conversation along the banks of Cedar Creek some 40 years ago.