Today would have been my grandpa’s 98th birthday. He loved Lovesac. Every time I’d come around he’d do a little dance and sing, “The Lovesac’ll getchya if you don’t watch out…” He was so proud to see me & my cousins building a company together.
As my grandpa got older and eventually passed away a few years back, it gave me pause to reflect on my own life and what I might become. His funeral was packed. Sure I come from a huge extended family, but I didn’t even know half of these people. But I did know that every one of them had one thing in common for sure: In life, my grandpa had most certainly had made them laugh, smile, or just feel great about themselves. What legacy would I leave? That’s a tough act to follow.
My grandpa was an entrepreneur – but he never really “made it.” My grandpa was an entertainer, a vaudeville singer and dancer, a natural (completely untaught) master on the piano – but he never went pro. My grandpa built housing developments, once had his own TV show, was the state bowling champ, tried his own info-mercial, and generally drove my grandmother crazy. But regardless of whatever “successes” he had or didn’t have in life, when I saw the genuine emotion on the faces of so many people who would miss this character-of-a-man—despite his having never achieved any real fame or fortune in life—I realized how much more it meant that he had just led a good, good, good life. He had lived a life of service, a life of joy, a life full of laughter, and full of love.
By the time I really got to know him as an adult he spent most of his time on the couch. I most often caught him on his avocado green barca-lounger watching golf, or football, or reruns of old BYU games. I finally came to kind of envy him. I was being run ragged by a crazy business that made no money and sucked up my entire life. But he had made it. He had just made it to the couch. He could rest easy—having never materially damaged anyone and having never sacrificed his fundamental principles. That was enough.
Just making it back to retirement on the couch in an old body—worn out from a life of service and love. That’s #lifeonacouch.
I should be so lucky.