On November 5, 2021 The Honorable Michael Powell delivered a stirring, emotional and very personal eulogy for his father’s life during a memorial service at Washington’s National Cathedral.
I could not locate a transcript so I created one, hopefully accurate.
I decided to transcribe and post it for this singular reason: Would that we all might be able to find a place in our hearts to speak of anyone we know or once knew as our highest self in regards to their highest self.
Brene Brown once posited a question “If God came down and told you ‘This is the best that person could do,’ would you smite them?” Ms. Brown did not use the word ‘smite.’ I simply love the word. Definition #3 fits.
Please listen or read and, if you are able, set aside debate on what the younger Mr. Powell, in quoting the author David Brooks, states as ‘resume’ achievements, opting to focus on those achievements deemed by Mr. Brooks as ‘eulogy,’ achievements in talking of his dad, achievements such as honor, faith and compassion.
I urge you to watch or listen to (the latter being my preference) the service in its entirety. The link embed is in the words “Washington Cathedral” above and again at the end of the transcript below, along with added bibliography on the two Powells, father and son.
Secretary Powell’s memorial also featured some gifted story telling by Deputy Secretary of State Richard Armitage and Secretary Madeline Albright. It is full of wonderful music and hymns as performed by The Army Brass Quintet, The Cathedral Choir and SFC Adiza Jibril and The United States Army Chorus.
The Honorable Michael Powell: A Eulogy for Dad.
My sisters and I were raised under the stars, the stars of the storied general we eulogize today. Dad was famous for his thirteen rules but our family life was un-regimented. No morning revelry or marching drills. It was a warm and joyous and loving home, anchored by our strong and graceful mother, Alma. Our parents taught us right. They taught us wrong. And they taught us to take responsibility for our actions and never to blame others.
Disappointing them was the worst punishment you could imagine.
My father is frequently remembered as a problem solver. Well, his solutions to world problems may have been elegant. His fixes around the house were a bit more cloogy. He believed he could fix anything cheaply with some duct tape, some wire and a can of spray paint. He’d even propose a solution for a non-existent problem just to satisfy his curiosity about how something worked like the time in high school he decided that my cherished 1962 Impala was making a noise. It definitely was not making a noise. Nonetheless he pursued the phantom sound by pulling the engine, something he had never done before. He spent the whole weekend hanging chain and hoisting the engine and messing with who knows what? When he put it together and started it, the car ‘whopped’ like a helicopter. We rushed to the door and saw him backing out of the driveway with a big, proud smile on his face. But that smile faded quickly when he shifted the car into drive and it would never go forward again. But he was always thinking. So he donated the car to the local fire dept. To get it there, he literally drove the car backwards on public roads, smiling at astonished drivers along the way.
He liked tinkering.
When he was a one-star general living in Fort Carlson, Colorado he inexplicably became fascinated with mechanical adding machines. He would buy them by the pallet at auction and then try to get the machines to work. At one point there were so many adding machines he had to store them in the garage refrigerator. I suppose every general needs a signature eccentricity. George Patton had pearl handled revolvers. Colin Powell had adding machines.
His zest for life derived from his endless passion for people. He was genuinely interested in everyone he met. He loved a hot dog vendor, a bank teller, a janitor and a student as much as any world leader. Not long ago he was driving his Corvette on the Beltway and got a flat tire. A young, disabled vet saw him and pulled over to help. With the tire fixed the young vet sheepishly asked if he could take a quick selfie. But my dad took time to ask about his family and his friends and his life, something no Instagram moment could ever uncover. A few days later to thank him for his help, my father invited the vet and his entire family over to the house for dinner.
Colin Powell was a great leader because he was a great follower. He knew you could not ask your troops to do anything you were unwilling to do yourself. One time I was walking into the PX with my dad. We came upon a corporal saluting a captain over and over again. My father walked up and asked this captain what he was doing. The captain replied, “Sir, this corporal failed to salute me. So I’m making him salute me a hundred times.” My dad said, “That’s fine. But you make darn sure you salute him back every single time. The exchange of salutes is a sign of mutual respect.”
He loved the troops with all his heart. The morning I was flying to Germany for my first assignment as a new army officer, he came into my room to say good-bye. He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek and whispered gently, “Take care of our soldiers.” Countless people have benefited from his mentorship.
He could offer weighty wisdom in a few choice words. I recall when I was chairman of the FCC and having a very rough go in the press, I emailed him and asked, “Maybe I should consider stepping down?” The response was swift. “Powells don’t quit. People will long forget the issues you’re dealing with. They will never forget how you conduct your self.” Then he quoted a passage from Thomas Jefferson’s second inaugural address which reads: I have learned to expect that it will fall to the lot of imperfect man to retire from this station with the reputation and the favor which bring him into it. In other words, public service comes at a cost if you’re committed to doing the right thing.
Colin Luther was very proud of his Jamaican immigrant heritage and loved his big West Indian family. Family was the foundation of his beliefs and the source never ending comfort. Bringing shame to the family was the cardinal sin. He frequently said, “Don’t forget where you came from.” Words that call us to remain grateful, stay humble and to be brave. In The Road to Character David Brooks draws a distinction between resume virtues and eulogy virtues. Resume virtues are your achievements and your skills. Eulogy virtues are those discussed at your funeral, whether you are kind, honest, brave, faithful. This person has a quiet but solid sense of right and wrong, not only to do good but to be good. He wants to love intimately, to sacrifice self in the service of others and to live in obedience to some transcendent trust. That was my father.
The example of Colin Powell does not call on us to emulate his resume, which is too formidable for mere mortals. It is to emulate his character and his example as a human being. We can strive to do that. We can choose to be good.
We walk through this life holding hands with the ones we love. They guide us, they pull us out of harm’s way, they touch and caress us with loving kindness. One of my most powerful memories comes from holding my dad’s hand. I was hurt very badly and lying in a bed in ICU following a bad accident. It was the middle of the night yet my father was by my side after a long day of work. I was squirming in pain and anguish. Without a word he just took my hand and squeezed it with a father’s love. It instantly relaxed and put me at peace. The last night of his life, I walked in to see him. Now he was the one lying in an ICU bed.
He could not see or speak to me. So I took his hand just as he had taken mine decades before. I knew everything was not going to be ok. I wanted him to be at peace. But again I felt my father’s love in that hand, that hand that took my mother’s hand in matrimony, that hand that held me as a baby, that hand that signed report cards, tossed baseballs and fixed old cars, that hand that signed treaties and war orders, saluted service members and gestured joyfully while telling a story. That hand is still now. But it left a deep imprint on the lives of dear family and dear friends, soldiers and sailors, presidents and prime ministers and a generation of aspiring young people.
Ralph Waldo Emerson said that The purpose of life is not to be happy. It is to be useful, to be honorable, to be compassionate, to have it make some difference that you have lived and lived well.
My father made a monumental difference. He lived. He lived well. I’ve heard it asked. “Are we still making his kind?” I believe the answer to that question is up to us. To honor his legacy I hope we do more than consign him to the history books. I hope we recommit ourselves to being a nation where we are still making his kind. For as he said in his autobiography, his journey was an American journey. Colin Powell was a great lion with a big heart.
We will miss him terribly.
Bibliography
General Colin L. Powell, Wikipedia
The Honorable Michael Powell, Wikipedia
The Memorial Service at Washington Cathedral, Washington, D.C.
The Program, (NOTE: Program will auto download to your device in PDF)
