52 Cups of Coffee: Inspiring and insightful stories for navigating life’s uncertainties (9 page)

Lou Anna K
. Simon

Grand Traverse Pie Company in East Lansing, Michigan

Small brewed coffee

Hard work is the currency that buys good fortune.

Michigan State President, Lou Anna K. Simon was a first-generation college graduate.

She married her husband, Dr. Roy Simon, while in grad
uate school but had never fully dropped her maiden name, Kimsey. She still carries the K in her name (and the lessons learned from her Kimsey years) close to her heart.

The Kimseys didn
’t have much money. Lou Anna grew up in a blue-collar community in rural Indiana. For a stretch, the family lived with her grandparents to save money; when it was time to go to college she chose Indiana State University because it was close to home and scholarship money made it a viable option.

Now she
’s at the helm of a University with over 45,000 students, a 5,200-acre campus, and a billion-dollar budget.

That
’s quite the transformation. But in all of her success, she never forgot her roots.

After hearing the intricate story of her winding ascent through the ranks of Michigan State—a journey that began with a
Ph.D. in Administration and Higher Education in 1974, and reached a pinnacle in 2004 when the Board of Trustees elected her to her current role as President—I asked her one question: What take-away from her career at MSU would she pass on to college students?

Her answer had nothing to do with her career at Mich
igan State. It had everything to do with her father—a man for whom Lou Anna had unquestionable admiration and respect: “Keep learning.”

Her father worked in a power plant.
He’d left high school early to fight in WWII and later earned his GED. While he might not have been the best-educated man, he had a brilliant mind and throughout his time at the power plant he had constantly tried to learn more, which often seemed senseless to others. Given his level of education, there was a limit to how high he could advance in the company. He did it anyway, and it paid off.

When the country experienced an energy crisis that led to a rapid increase in power plants, there was a shortage of wor
kers with the skills necessary to help build the plants, and her father now found his expertise in high demand. Suddenly the blue-collar employee with a GED was working alongside engineers.

It was a lesson that stuck with Lou Anna
, and she shared his advice, “Become good at things you don’t like doing.”

Whenever she ran into something challenging, or som
ething she didn’t like doing, her father reminded her of the importance of becoming good at things you don’t like doing, because some day you might need those skills.

Over 30 years,
the university went through a lot of changes. And the same was true about Lou Anna’s career. She had started with research, which she loved. About the same time Edgar Harden became MSU president, the U.S. Government awarded MSU a grant to build a Cyclotron on campus. Before they would hand over the money, the government wanted MSU to pass an Affirmative Action plan. Lou Anna was asked to become the Assistant to the President to gather data necessary to approve the plan; she didn’t want to, but she said yes because it was a smart career move. The day she loaded a truck with all the collected data to send to Washington (computers and email weren’t around yet), she looked forward to returning to her old job.

But the return didn
’t last long. Within a week, she was pulled back into a new project. There was the threat of a lawsuit connected to the new Title IX Amendment, and once again, the university knew Lou Anna had the skills to gather the required data.

These projects
were not ideal assignments for Lou Anna, but she did them, and she did them well. They were opportunities to add value to her career down the road.

Her advice:
“Look at the potential scenarios that can happen and do your best to prepare.”

This lesson leads nicely
to the final point Lou Anna left me with—the one that hit home.

When Lou Anna had been in college, she never
had envisioned she would someday become the president of a major university.

It wasn
’t because she didn’t think she was capable (her father had always said the only person who can define your success is you, and she had taken that lesson—like the others—to heart). To some extent, though, the presidency was a matter of happenstance. One thing led to another, and she suddenly realized that if she were going to continue advancing in her career, the last stop would have to be president.

Lou Anna used the term happenstance a few times. It was fate, chance, a little luck, destiny—whatever you want to call it—that had played a large role in Lou Anna
’s career, as in any career, for that matter. Her husband could have gotten a job in another state; the Cyclotron funding could have gone to another school; her research could have led elsewhere. Different circumstances would likely have led to a much different outcome.

So she
became the president because of good luck? Not exactly. Sure, happenstance played a role, but it was what Lou Anna did with those opportunities that made the difference. She had what I had once heard were the three elements necessary to create your own luck: self-confidence, the ability to take risks, and competence. The lessons from her father taught her how to increase her utility. She could look at the various scenarios life might bring and prepare accordingly: focusing on the skills necessary for the task at hand, but also seeing the big picture and developing the skills for the long run.

Preparation is hard work. But Lou Anna
’s father instilled the value of hard work, and without that, Lou Anna wouldn’t be where she was today.

* * *

There have been many times throughout my college experience where the workload has reached overwhelming levels. Times when I’m so sick of working hard I just want to give up—bury my head in the sand and pretend the world doesn’t exist. Shout from the rooftops that I’m finished; someone else can do the work.

At times, I’ve also gotten caught up in the freedom and fun of college and neglected the details. Letting little things slip by. Taking shortcuts when no one was looking.

That hadn’t been the case before college. When I was little, my parents kept me on track. I didn’t get to leave the table until I had finished my milk. I had to finish my homework before I could go outside and play. Then, in high school, I would go out for a run every day, whether I wanted to or not, because I knew that if I didn’t—if I took a day off, got complacent, or neglected the exercises that were neither fun nor easy—I’d have an angry coach to answer to.

College
is about learning to do those difficult things on my own. No coaches, no parents, just the lessons they’ve taught me about the motivation to succeed and the grit to get the job done. Unfortunately, the commotion of college can cause us to lose sight of those lessons; it can deter our determination. Cup 16 is a reminder: Hard work is the currency that buys good fortune.

To be lucky in life requires doing things that aren
’t fun, getting better when you’re already good, and going the extra mile. These things might not seem worthwhile in the short-term, but they pay off in the end.

In the weeks
after I had coffee with Lou Anna, every time I tried to make an excuse not to do something, her advice popped into my head. It was incredibly frustrating—I didn’t like the added guilt when I already knew I was procrastinating.

But
, I know one day I will look back and appreciate the reminder.

Piotr Pasik

Grand River Café in East Lansing, Michigan

Medium house coffee

Your limitations only stop you if you let them.

I was waiting at Grand River Café when Piotr (pronounced “Peter”) texted me to say he was running a little late, so I waited patiently among the college students immersed in their textbooks and laptops. When he arrived, he came through the front door, and then stopped when he saw the two small steps creating an obstacle between him and the front counter.

I waved and started walking toward him; he acknowledged my gesture as he surveyed the situation. When I got to the door, I said a quick hello, let him know there was a
stair-free entrance around the corner, and held the door while he navigated his electric wheelchair out of the small entryway.

He followed me through the other door to the front of the crowded coffee shop. He ordered a large hot chocolate; I went with a regular house coffee. He generously paid for both—straining to reach over his scooter to hand the signed receipt back to the cashier.

When our drinks were ready, I carried both to an empty table. Piotr parked and laboriously maneuvered from his scooter into the chair, taking a moment to get situated before we started our conversation.

If I had been alone, the entire process would have taken two minutes. If Piotr had been alone, it would have taken ten.

Piotr has spastic cerebral palsy—a condition that causes degenerative mobility. He can’t get around without his scooter or walker, and when he goes out, it is a slow process. After observing this, I assumed Piotr probably didn’t get around much. Ten minutes into the conversation, I realized how wrong my assumption was.

He had recently
returned from a 10-day trip to Ireland, a trip he took by himself. What’s more, he had done it without much planning. Piotr, who was currently working on a Master’s in Disabilities Counseling at Michigan State, had received grant money to attend a conference there. He bought a ticket and planned to work out the finer details once he arrived in Europe. He knew he wanted to catch a soccer game (he’s a huge fan) and visit his family in Poland for a few days (he emigrated from Poland when he was 11), so he decided to use the conference as an excuse to go on an adventure.

Within hours of landing, he had navigated the foreign city, found a taxi driver (who graciously volunteered to
take him to a scooter-rental store), found his hotel, and made it to the soccer game he’d bought tickets to before leaving the States. His afternoon was spent surrounded by rambunctious soccer fans, watching his favorite sport; this was just the start of what Piotr called “the trip of a lifetime.” Of course, he ran into a few challenges during the trip—every traveler does—but the Irish were very accommodating, and he didn’t meet any problems he couldn’t solve.

I know what it
’s like to travel internationally, so I was already impressed with Piotr. However, what he said next blew me away. His other passion was intramural soccer—in a league of able-bodied college kids.

It d
idn’t matter that he needed a walker to get around, or that he had clunky movements when he did; he never missed an opportunity to be out on the field. He might stand out among the energetic 20-something college boys sprinting up and down the field as he waited near the goal for an opportunity to score, but he loved every minute.

It began when he needed an elective credit for his unde
rgrad degree (also at MSU). He loved soccer, so that was what he chose. While many of the exercises were beyond his ability, he focused on the drills he could do, and his skills improved. Initially, he was apprehensive about how his classmates would react when he joined the game, but over time—and with the support of his classmates and a small fan club—he became more comfortable.

It had reached a point where you couldn’t
get him off the field. And while he loved the rush of being out on the field doing something he loved, the real motivation for his efforts wasn’t to score goals or win games. He was trying to change perceptions. He wanted to normalize disabilities and help people see that people with disabilities were just regular college students facing unique challenges.

Piotr ha
d an incredible perspective on life and his condition. I asked him how he did it.

He said it hadn
’t always been easy. For a long time he asked the “why” questions: Why me? Why did this happen? Why can’t I be like everyone else?

When he had exhausted all possible questions, he realized that his condition wasn
’t going to change; he was stuck with cerebral palsy for life, and he needed to accept that. At the same time, he recognized he wasn’t the only one asking those questions. As Piotr put it, everyone had something: some obstacle or challenge they had to fight. Some people had visible obstacles, while others were fighting a silent battle; life was an uphill battle for everyone. That was when he decided he wasn’t going to let his disability stop him from living an incredible life.

And that
was what he was doing. When he saw an opportunity to travel abroad, he took it. He was passionate about soccer, so he signed up. He could have used his condition as an excuse both times, but he didn’t.

* * *

This is the lesson from Cup 17: Our limitations only stop us if we let them. You can sit back and wait for the conditions to be perfect—make a hundred excuses why you can’t do something—or you can say, “screw it!” and find a way to make it happen.

We all have lists of things we want to do: travel abroad, run a marathon, go to law school, skydive, start a business, learn a new language. And so we say someday we
’ll get around to doing these. Why not today? Well, I’m too busy; I don’t have the money; I have this “thing” that’s stopping me.

Those are just excuses we use so we don
’t have to face the fact we are scared to go outside of our comfort zone where we might fail or face ridicule. We decide that “someday” we’ll do it. But the truth is, starting new things never gets easier—in 20 years, there will be whole new set of excuses that prevent us from following our passions. And if our dreams never come true, we can just blame our “thing.”

That is, unless we spend an hour with someone like Piotr, after which we realize our thoughts are the only thing holding us back.

He knew it was a cliché to say, but he said if he could achieve his dreams, anyone could. Piotr is a guy with so much stacked against him, and yet he is one of the happiest people I have ever met. He is living an incredible life that he loves.

All b
ecause he decided he wasn’t going to use his limitations as an excuse. I’d say he made the right choice.