If life is a struggle, then struggle. If you get rejected, get rejected again. If your dreams are smashed, keep dreaming. Just keep your eyes on the prize—and always remember that you have to fail to win.
Unless you’re at a blackjack table in Las Vegas with me, in which case you should remind me that this advice applies only to games that aren’t rigged, and that the Bellagio doesn’t need any more fountains.
EPILOGUE: LIFE LESSONS FROM LEGACY BUILDING
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One day you won’t be here, but your legacy will. Even if the earth is gone, you contributed to that. If you’d done something different, maybe the planet would have survived another minute, another year, another millennium. Everything you do matters. So treat it like it matters.
With Heaven, Hendrix, and Eniko
97
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BUILDING NEWER, BETTER MODELS
Growing up, the best thing I ever had was nothing.
All the experiences I disliked in my childhood—sleeping in the hallway, not having a car, and being too poor to afford a haircut—were essential to building my character.
I remember going to the homes of other kids and looking around with envy: “You got grass? Wait, you got steps inside your house? And you got two bathrooms?”
My kids will never have that experience.
One of the first challenges I faced when I began earning enough money to over-provide for myself and my kids was how to raise them with the same qualities my mother instilled in me. Because if you give kids whatever they want, you create monsters who go out into the world and say, “Gimme.” And the world says, “No.”
However, when your children are flying on private planes and traveling with Daddy’s security guards, they can quickly lose their grounding in reality. So I constantly tell Heaven and Hendrix about my childhood; why we’re fortunate to have this lifestyle; and that in no way, shape, or form are they on Easy Street for life.
“Nothing’s been given to us,” I explain. “Everything that we have came from hard work. You’re a part of it because you’re my kids, but when you’re no longer kids, it’s up to you to go get your own stuff. You don’t have to be your dad, but you’re gonna have your dad’s will and you’re gonna know that whatever you put your mind to, you can achieve.”
One of my biggest regrets is taking my education and opportunities for granted in my youth, and being content with just barely getting by. Today, I often think: Damn, what if?
What if I’d put one hundred percent into learning when I was growing up? Maybe I’d have accomplished more.
What if I’d gone to the University of Pennsylvania? Maybe I would have been able to add Professor to the front of my name.
What if I’d given more of a shit about swim team? Maybe I could have been the first black man under five foot five to win an Olympic gold medal for swimming.
I will never know the answers to these questions, because I fucked off parts of my life and shut certain doors that were open to me. As a father, I’m dedicated to making sure that my children don’t have those same regrets. Our conversations about it usually go like this:
Me: Baby, why did you get a B?
Heaven: I don’t know, Dad. That class was tough for me. How’d you do in math? Were you good?
Me: Nope.
Heaven: What’d you get?
Me: A lot lower than a B.
Heaven: So sometimes it’s okay to get lower than a B?
Me: Nope.
Heaven: Why not, Dad? You did.
Me: Because your job is to be better than me. Getting a B is fine, but you should never be content with a B. You should always wonder why you didn’t get an A. Because you know what happened to Daddy? Daddy got lucky and stumbled into something that he had no idea would end up working out like it did. You don’t have to get lucky. You can know what you wanna do and walk straight into it. Do you understand?
Heaven: I do, Dad. I don’t want to disappoint you.
Me: I’m never disappointed. I want you to be disappointed. Don’t be upset because you think your dad is gonna be upset. You should be upset for you.
Education is the only area where I spoil my kids rotten. When it comes to opportunities to get better, I am the deliverer.
Whatever they’re interested in—and sometimes whatever they’re not interested in—I will provide every possible way for them to excel. There are times when my house is like the Make-A-Wish Foundation, except my kids seem to wish they were somewhere else. My biggest failing as a parent is being unable to get my children to appreciate some of the incredible teachers they have access to.
Hendrix: Can I go play my Skylanders game?
Me: What? David Beckham is teaching you how to kick a soccer ball right now.
Hendrix: Yeah, I know, but he’s boring.
Me: Son, that’s David Beckham—one of the best soccer players in the world. Go take this goddamn lesson!
Hendrix: Ugh, Dad, don’t make me do this.
Heaven: I don’t wanna learn to dance right now.
Me: But that’s Beyoncé. She wants to teach you some moves.
Heaven: Yeah, but I’m over her.
Me: No, no, you can’t be over Beyoncé! Just show me “Run the World” one more time from the top.
Hendrix: Dad, I don’t think that guy knows what he’s doing.
Me: That’s Chris Paul. He knows what he’s doing! He’s the best point guard in the NBA.
Hendrix: I know, but Mr. Klein at camp says I should do it like this.
Me: Mr. Klein isn’t a nine-time NBA All-Star! What are you talking about, son?
Hendrix: I like the way Mr. Klein does it better. I’m just gonna go play on the iPad.
One day, I brought my kids to Philadelphia so they could see the house I grew up in. I was prepared for them to be shocked, to be scared straight, to wrinkle their little noses and say, “How did you survive?’
But that’s not what happened. My daughter looked at the house and the neighborhood, then turned to me and said, “I like it here. Can we stay?”
That’s when I knew that the lessons on humility and appreciation had sunk in. Since then, I don’t get as much time to teach them as I want to. Not because I’m working so hard, but because, at ages twelve and nine, they’re busier than I am. Just yesterday, this is the conversation I had with them.
Me: Hey, guys, wanna go get ice cream?
Kids: Can’t, Dad, got soccer practice.
Me: All right, we can go when you’re done with practice.
Kids: Can’t, Dad, after that we’re meditating. We’re learning how to meditate.
Me: Uh, what about tomorrow?
Kids: Well, we gotta see, Dad. We might have spin club.
Me: You got spin club? What, kids do that now?
Kids: Yeah, Dad.
Me: Well, let me know when you have time for your father.
Kids: Sure, Dad, we’ll try to fit something in.
I believe that my work is done. In fact, there’s a distinct possibility that I may have gone overboard.
98
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THERE’S ALWAYS MORE
The other side of success is the backlash.