Develop Adaptation!

Jeff Nelligan • December 31, 2023

"I'll be waiting outside."

For three years my sons attended an all-boys middle school which, speaking of

rigidity, was rigid in its own way: Jackets and ties worn at all times, heavy

emphasis on history and the classics, a clear hierarchy of status between older and

younger boys. I totally understand this type of environment isn’t for every kid but

it worked for mine.


One spring the sister school (i.e. all girls) to my sons’ institution was putting on a

theatrical production, “The Pirates of Penzance,” which required (you guessed it) a

lot of pirates. Naturally, the show’s producers came to my sons’ school to recruit

boys to fill out the cast. These were non-speaking parts; the need was for crowds of

pirates to be on stage during key scenes.


My two eldest sons came home one day from school and rather dismissively told

me about the casting call. With all you’ve read, you can guess my immediate

reaction: “Boys, you need to do this!”


Of course they immediately balked. This kind of thing was way outside of their

realm of experience.


But as you might imagine, I’m a first-class nag.


So first, I badgered them: “C’mon, boys. This is no big deal. You both give

presentations in class and you play on fields in front of a hundred adults and half of

them are screaming at you to fail [i.e. the opponent’s parents].” No dice.


Second, I tried reason. “Volunteering for this deal will look great to your teachers

and go on your school record.” Nope.


Third, I simply gave up and bribed them. “Ok, here’s the deal. I’ll give you each

ten bucks if you just go to the tryouts. If you don’t like it after the first five minutes

you can leave and I’ll be waiting outside.”


Bingo. That Saturday morning we drove to the sister school and at 9:50 a.m. they

got out of the car with ten- dollar bills in their pockets and departed through the

auditorium doors. I bet you know what happened next.


I didn’t wait outside. I drove away.


I returned to the auditorium doors at noon and 15 minutes later they walked out

wearing white burlap tunics and pirate bandanas and carrying plastic swords. They

were talking with each other as they got in the backseat and fastened their seat

belts and then I said with forced heartiness, “Well! I’m glad I didn’t stick around

too long.”


Silence.


Then the eldest said, “Nice try, Dad.”


I looked in the rear view mirror at him and he continued. “Me and Braden got in

there and Mrs. Cameron came up and said she was counting on us. She gave us this

stuff and said all we have to do is be on the stage when the pirates are yelling and

swinging these swords. We figured we couldn’t leave because of her. Besides, we

knew you already left.”


I turned around to face them in the backseat. There they both sat in their pirate

garb, staring at me. I shook my head and said, “You guys really know your old

man.” “Yeah, we do.” And then all three of us started laughing.


“I’ll be waiting outside” entered the lexicon that day. A throwaway line uttered

when one of the boys was walking into a tough scene or just the unknown, always

uttered with the humorous resignation like other other sayings you’ve read.


“Big game this afternoon.” “This biology test is going to hurt.” “Do I have to go to

the dentist?” And then always, “And yeah, Dad, I know. You’ll be waiting outside.”

                                                       ___________________


“Do the one thing you think you cannot do. Fail at it. Try again. Do better the

second time. The only people who never tumble are those who never mount the

high wire.”  Oprah Winfrey

                                                       ___________________


As with the saying in the previous section, this phrase in odd fashion provided an

element of mental strengthening. Parents know that there are so many things a kid

mildly or wildly dreads. Again, that’s what is called growing up. At 9 and 10

they’d pushed pass the anxiety of trying something brand new (it helped they’d

been together).


After that experience with Penzance - and with other potentially

daunting scenes - they gradually began to understand that they could push past an

unusual challenge; one gave them a framework for the next one, what- ever it was.


And the phrase also allowed them a subtle dig at me, which is all part of the game

of being a parent.


Fast forward. It’s the beginning of summer many years later and I’m dropping off

the youngest son at the U.S. Military Academy (West Point) for the start of what is

called ‘Beast Barracks,’ a rugged two-month trial that begins the grueling four

years of service academy life ahead. We’re sitting in an auditorium full of edgy

parents and anxious kids and after some administrative remarks the General at the

podium suddenly pauses and then practically shouts, “Parents! You have one

minute to say goodbye to your Cadet and exit the building!”


Everyone reflexively stands and despite the emotions we both feel, my son turns to

me with this big grin. I’m grinning as well; we both know the score here. “Dad,

don’t even say it.” Then he shakes my hand and walks away.


                                                                         ####

ABOUT THE BOOK

Every Dad in America wants to raise a resilient kid. Four Lessons from My Three Sons charts the course.  

Written by a good-natured but unyielding father, this slim volume describes how his off-beat and yet powerful forms of encouragement helped his sons obtain the assurance, strength and integrity needed to achieve personal success and satisfaction. This book isn't 300 pages of pop child psychology or a fatherhood "journey" filled with jargon and equivocation. It's tough and hard and fast. It’s about how three boys made their way to the U.S. Naval Academy, Williams, and West Point – and beyond.
GET THE BOOK NOW
By Jeff Nelligan January 29, 2026
It's 8:30 a.m. on a humid August Tuesday and I’m on the roof of the U.S. Capitol, the Dome rising 280 feet directly above. In my arms is a stack of thin boxes and I’m navigating a plywood gangplank leading to a rusted 15-foot flagpole. A colleague joins me carrying more boxes. She opens one and hands me a 2’ by 4’ American flag which I affix to the pole’s lanyard, raise and lower quickly, unfasten and hand to her as she hands me another. A third colleague brings out more boxes and retrieves the ones containing flown flags. This little dance continues for three straight hours. Afterwards, my colleagues and I carefully re-fold each flag and affix to it a “Certificate of Authenticity from the Architect of the Capitol” reading “This flag was flown over the U.S. Capitol in honor of____” and fill in the blank: “The Greater Bakersfield, California Chamber of Commerce”…the 80 th birthday of Wilbert Robinson of Bowie, Maryland, proud veteran of the Vietnam War…” We will perform this task for five days a week until Congress returns from recess. This is my very first job in Washington, D.C. and obviously, I have what it takes. *** Flag duty began my 32-year run in politics and government, which ended last week. It included four tours of duty on Capitol Hill working for three Members of Congress, two Presidential appointments serving Cabinet officers in the Departments of State and Health and Human Services, posts at two independent agencies, and a career position at FDA. The jobs were a mix of purely political positions where being on the south side of an election meant cleaning out your desk and getting good at catchy LinkedIn posts – twice that happened - and career federal government stints where the stakes were less exhilarating. *** I worked principally as press secretary and special assistant. The former job, a common D.C. occupation, was transformed in 2008 with the onset of social media, morphing from daily pronouncements of your boss’s wisdom on the issues of the day to rapid-fire postings on the obvious unreasonableness, even cruelties of your opponents. Sound familiar? As for the latter occupational specialty, special assistant, the terms ‘bagman’ or ‘fixer’ are more apt: A guy always two steps behind the principal but always ready to step up and fix whatever problem arose in daily political life. Need a special vegan lunch for Congressman Busybody, White House tour tickets for the Big Bad High volleyball team, or the personal phone number of the executive assistant to a heavy-duty lobbyist? I was your guy. Every leader needs a fixer. Like anyone else who works in D.C., I occasionally participated in a glam political moment – you know, that unique, epic event that would never ever be forgotten in D.C. history Until it was. *** The best part about government life was working for many men and women who were at the top of their game in the D.C. Swamp, one of the toughest arenas on the planet. Their success, from the vantage point of your humble correspondent, was attributable to four simple rules of life. “If you can’t measure it, it didn’t happen.” Every office I was in kept metrics on virtually every aspect of the principal’s week – how many meetings and events attended, X posts, interviews, committee votes, constituent letters, action items completed from memos?! Numbers, numbers, and always keeping score – and always the quest to improve. “Never lose it.” In a lifetime of political jobs, I may have heard a boss raise her or his voice half a dozen times, even during and after major-league setbacks. Self-control was their hallmark. One boss, a powerful House Committee chairman once confided to me, “I’m fine that 80 precent of my job is humoring these guys, no matter how crazy they get.” An equally valuable corollary skill: Humility. The ability of these individuals to admit to colleagues and staff when wrong on a particular issue. Which counterintuitively only upped their long-term credibility. “Something’s always gonna go south.” Always the need for a plan C. Every initiative during an upcoming day was scoured for what elements would interfere and how, if they occurred, they could be ameliorated. Hence, in the rare times when things did go south, there was always preparation in advance for getting to 80 percent of what was needed. “Good is not good enough.” Successful politicians and government leaders – and their staffs – never get complacent. If they do, they’re not long for the Swamp. Everyone is always hustling for the edge. A useful corollary learned from an NCO when I was in the Army: Always have your hand up. Volunteering is at the heart of the hustle, the cheerful willingness to take on the new and unknown and do whatever it takes. *** And that’s how it all started. On the second day of my first congressional tour the Member solicited volunteers “for a fun recess job that’ll get you out of the office.” It was flag duty and from that day onwards my government career could only go up. *****
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