Presence

I was probably 10 before I knew his real name - Charles Fields Brantley. To me he was always Uncle Bim. He was my great uncle. My grandmother and grandfather on my dad’s side were both deceased by the time I was born so Uncle Bim was the closest thing to a Brantley grandparent I had

When I came home from the hospital, we lived in the small brick house on the east side of the giant 2-acre garden mom and dad planted every year. It was me, my two older sisters, mom, and dad. Uncle Bim lived in the big White House on the other side of the garden. By the time my memory kicked in we had moved across the garden into the big White House with Uncle Bim. It was all I ever knew. Throughout my childhood I was his regular companion.

His domain was the den. It was there on hot summer nights that I would lay on the sofa and Uncle Bim would rock in his rocking chair listening to the Atlanta Braces on the radio. A few years later he bought a 14” black and white TV, and we spent Friday night watching Live Atlanta Wrestling.

When the garden came in, we would pick black eyed peas and Silver Queen corn and spend the afternoon on the porch shelled peas and shucked corn. Once or twice a week we would walk across the street to Miss Vernon’s store and he would give me a quarter to spend on whatever I wanted, which was usual a coke and a baby Ruth bar. When it was time to feed the chickens, I would gather the feed bag and follow Uncle Bim to the chicken lot.

Outside of those quarters he gave me for Miss Vernon’s Store, and the worn-out violin that I found in his dresser drawer that he told me was a Stratovarius (which turned out to be a cheap Sears and Roebuck model) the only present I remember Uncle Bim giving me happened a couple of weeks after Patty and I married. We had just moved into dad’s rental house, and Christmas was two weeks away. We were as poor as most newlyweds back then, and I was sitting on the porch with Uncle Bim lamenting the fact that I didn’t have enough money to buy a Christmas tree. I stopped talking and he said, “Johnny, get the axe and let’s go to the chicken lot. There’s a little cedar tree I've have been saving for a special occasion." It was a lean tall sparse cedar tree. It reminded me of a Charlie Brown tree. Patty’s mom brought over some lights and ornaments. My mom added more ornaments, and it was the perfect Christmas tree.

By any standard measurement of success Uncle Bim never amounted to much of anything. Motivated folks might say that he was not a good role model for a young boy. As far as I know, he did not graduate from high school, didn’t go to church, and never held a job of any significance. The jobs he did have didn’t last very long. But even in his brokenness he did give me the one thing he had - his presence - a presence that made me believe that I mattered - there was something special about me - there was more to me than I realized.

As we are launching The Auxin Leader and the larger leadership work I am doing now, I thought of Uncle Bim. Developing people begins with the one thing Uncle Bim gave to me – his presence. Being present with people is the key to building relationships. Being present with the people on your team helps you discover who they really are, their current strengths and weaknesses, and the path you can use to help them grow. Presence is the path to improving performance and growth. It’s also the path to being authentically human.