It's been said that "A gentleman is one who puts more into the world than he takes out." Though Bernard Shaw's politics were controversial, and not in line with my own views, his words quoted above are a true measure of the way this month's featured man has lived his life; all 96 years of it. Though Bob Harden will never admit to any significant contribution to the world, and will humbly insist that he was quite unremarkable, this claim couldn't be further from the truth. Just within the realm of my lived experience, Bob has modeled the epitome of what a gentleman or a "gentle man" can be.
His stature is quite noticeable, 6 feet, 4 inches in his prime, though he makes no attempt to be the shining center of any room. As a child he was reported being "painfully" shy. As the adult man I've known my entire life, he is a witty, smart, strong, and morally equipped man everyone notices. When he begins to share one of his many one-liners that will make you laugh until your stomach hurts, or one of the many stories of his and his family's lives that you will swear was the inspiration for a best selling novel, you cannot help but notice him and respect him. Bob proved to be, and showed me how to be a man who does not hesitate to put others before himself, commits to his morals and values without question, expresses strength when necessary, offers a gentle ear and helping hand when needed, takes ownership of his mistakes, and remains loyal to his family and friends.
Spending much of his early life in Savannah, GA, Bob still embodies the more positive attributes of a southern gentleman, from the soothing drawl of his speech and the firm handshake and eye contact that lets you know he's with you, to being sure to always present his best in appearance and behavior. He tells stories of how he was raised, and honors his parents as if they were nobility. Bob joined the United States Army in 1944, after graduating from Georgia Military Academy. He refers to his deployment as his "senior trip" through Europe. He will be the first to warn you that war is no picnic, and should be avoided whenever possible. Several years ago, he spoke to a group of 5th graders who were honoring veterans from WWII, offering a kind, but assertive, lesson that war is not a video game, nor are soldiers action figures; it's a laden experience where people are exposed to the dark side of humanity; they do things they never thought they would, because they are placed in situations they never dreamed of being in. One of Bob's primary missions during the war was liberating concentration camps. One doesn't unsee what he and his compatriots saw.
After the war and postwar missions were completed, Bob returned to the US to begin his adult life. My mother's favorite story of this time was when he shared a conversation with a charming woman at the bar, only to discover her identity as she later appeared on stage - Ella Fitzgerald. Settling in Atlanta, Bob graduated from GA Tech, began his career with C&S Bank, married, and started his family; one girl - my mother, and one boy - my uncle.
As a child, I knew Bob as my very tall, very funny, very wise grandfather. At the time, I remember finding him a little bit intimidating; to a small child, 6'4" with a very deep voice can bring pause, no matter how gentle. Throughout adulthood, Bob, was a mentor to me. We shared stories of our experiences in college and fraternities, some of which we're mutually proud; others, we collectively agree were childish 20 somethings who had a lot left to learn about life. I've been the fortunate recipient of his insight and wisdom on responsibility, carrying myself with confidence, treating women with respect as human beings, and a little practice with sarcasm. While navigating a divorce in my late 20s, he shared insights from how he moved through his divorce from my grandmother, creating opportunity for him to find and marry the love of his life, Mary. Since introducing him to my current wife, Megan, he has expressed the deepest joy and happiness for me, while sharing wisdom from his lived experiences, in hopes that I continue to be the stand-up guy Megan deserves. When I shared endeavors and accolades from my professional life, he responded with validation and praise, accompanied by a reminder to be humble and always pay attention to the "purpose of the exercise."
I only saw him tear up twice; once when my step-grandmother passed away, and again when my great aunt, his sister, followed in death more than a decade later. He did not hide his tears out of shame or embarrassment, but to be strong for his family who were sharing his pain. One thing I was never able to convince him of, was that his vulnerability was never a burden. His worst fear in life was to burden someone else. My growth and development in emotional competence has led me down a path toward experiencing and expressing vulnerability a little differently than he; to which he has expressed admiration, further confirming his humble and inviting nature. Like many men, I share the innate draw toward repressing or ignoring my own needs for the sake of others. What I've learned in my life is that this practice does not unburden anyone, it simply causes me to suffer alone. Through the lessons of my grandfather and my own journey in this life, I now know how to invite others in while also steering away from dumping or projecting my bullshit onto someone else, as if it's theirs.
Much of what I learned about being honest, respectful, and authentic is rooted in my relationship with my grandfather. Bob has continued, and passed forward, the precedent laid before him of being the best self he can be, leaving the world a better place than he found it, and treating others how he hopes to be treated. In some ways, he even raised the bar set from generations before him. I intend to follow suit.
*this post was originally written prior to Bob's passing in 2020, and has been edited.