It's all about performance

Jeff Nelligan • June 3, 2024

“‘Diversity. Justice. Inclusiveness.’ Yeah, don’t forget GPA, SATs, All-Conference.”

The first three words in the sub-title above were adorned on banners along the entrance to a high-end prep school in the Mid- Atlantic, symbols of the institution’s virtue. My middle son (the failed trumpet player) and I were there at 8 a.m. for a Sunday lacrosse tournament. And yes, we were wayyyy early.

The last six words in the sub-title were what I added after reading aloud the first three. Sitting in the front seat of the car, my son instantly grinned and began laughing.

The school’s slogans are perfectly noble and prime catchwords of a sensitive age. It’s nice that young people are encouraged to think about high ideals and act accordingly. But at the time, the slogans underscored an ethos, however well-intentioned, that really didn’t cut it with me. In my narrowly wide-ranging world there were other markings: What really counts is doing, not feeling.

Think about it. Perhaps a kid’s life should not be consumed by saluting pop, voguish, beliefs-of-the-day. Maybe a few or most parents – consumed themselves with ensuring that their child can read, write and do math, have worthy friends and pursue worthwhile activities – think the same way. And maybe that’s why a 10-year-old kid confronted with the stark juxtaposition of the words above and what they represent, instantly laughs out loud.

I chuckled as well and then said, “Hey son, you know your old man likes diversity and justice just fine. But there’s a helluva lot more. Like just getting it done.”

“That’s what we gotta do today against St. Paul's“ he replied.

“Bingo, pal,” I responded. “The world – and I mean me, your friends and teachers and coaches – are always looking at you, seeing how you maneuver and perform. That’s the way life works. Attitude and skills and hustle and effort are how you are judged. Don’t ever forget it.” Yes, strong stuff for a young boy. But he understood.

Indeed, he was about to play in a tournament where teams won because they had good, tough players, not because they were righteous or woke. The world rewards and respects accomplishment. Period. If you think otherwise, paste on a big smile when your kid announces he or she has just failed a class.

Perhaps a kid’s life should not be consumed by saluting pop, voguish, beliefs-of-the-day. Maybe a few or most parents – consumed themselves with ensuring that their child can read, write and do math, have worthy friends and pursue worthwhile activities – think the same way. As Colin Powell says, there’s no magic. It’s all about sweat, determination, and hard work.

And no, I wasn’t dismissive of basic civic virtue. For example, I required all three sons to participate in community service. I compelled them to help out at the local YMCA and participate in winter coat drives. I demanded they go to local schools and help tutor disadvantaged kids in math and English. I stood next to them at food banks handing out lunches to folks down on their luck. Good Lord, you want to talk about the real world?! You want to talk about staring human behavior and choices straight in the eye? The boys would come back from these events more thoughtful - and more world-wise - than ever.

The world rewards and respects accomplishment. Period. If you think otherwise, paste on a big smile when your kid announces he or she has just failed a class.

Years later, that same son and I were at that same school for one of his last high school football games. His team lost the game and he played badly and we both knew this wasn’t going to be a fun ride home (no amount of preparation and confidence can erase a fourth-quarter goal- line fumble). We were driving out of the school at dusk when despite his sour mood, he chuckled and pointed out the car window at one of the aforementioned banners.

Spontaneously, I read aloud the first three words. From memory, having heard my pointed, six-word exhortation innumerable times, he laughed and filled in the rest. He had got the joke when he was 10-years-old and after seven-years in an increasingly feelings-saturated, woke world, it was even more funny now.

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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.

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Flag duty and the end of 30 years in politics

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. *****