As a young boy, I lived for about 7 years on the east side of San Jose in what then was known as California’s Valley of Hearts Delight. Although there were a few people playing with silicon sand, my hometown was more famous for its pitted prunes than its processors.
Our modest house, which my dad helped build, almost touched the foothills. Our street, lined with middle class homes, many with the obligatory Beaver Cleaver picket fence, curved to a dead end. We lived beyond the curve and a stone’s throw from a horse ranch that stretched beyond the road’s end. It was the suburban dream.
For some reason, the adults in the neighborhood did not socialize much on a regular basis. But we kids? That was a different story.
Those of us beyond the curve…the dead-end kids…were a “gang� or more appropriately, a motley crew. When wandering in our “turf� we were usually soiled, scruffy and searching for something to do. We rode bikes, played baseball in the street, hide and seek, cops and robbers…the usual gang stuff.
And summer that was always special. With school bells silent and the weather warm until after dark we played outdoors literally from morning to night. It was rinse and repeat until September.
But July 4, that was unique. Although, there may have been big doin’s downtown, I don’t remember waving flags and sitting on the curb watching parades. No, it was barbecues and fireworks ( and shhhh, some were illegal).
It was if the whole world shut down that day, at least for us anyway. Grown ups played. The kids played. And everyone was waiting for dusk. That was the magic hour when the fireworks came out and the neighbors gathered with their stashes to share.
No music played. No marching band strutted. But once underway, you would’ve thought we created fireworks over Disneyland. Our faces lit up with the razzle-dazzle color, noisy ear-popping whistles, and of course from time-to-time, the required fizzle.
What does all of this have to do with leadership you might ask? Everything.

Without leadership and the leaders that provided it aka, The Founding Fathers, there would have been no celebration that day. We might have celebrated the Queen’s birthday but certainly not Independence Day.
Moreover, without those leaders, like my dad, who from time-to-time fought for the continued ability to celebrate, it would not exist.
July 4 is a day of memories past and those in the making. So, eat your hotdogs, light your (safe, sane and “legal�) fireworks. Sit on a curb, wave a flag and watch a parade. Or, do whatever your family tradition demands.
But please keep in mind, the words of Thomas Jefferson in his letter to Roger Weightman, 10 days before his death when he needed to turn down Weightman’s invitation to attend the 50th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence:   “may it be to the world, what I believe it will be, (to some parts sooner, to others later, but finally to all,) the Signal of arousing men to burst the chains, under which monkish ignorance and superstition had persuaded them to bind themselves, and to assume the blessings & security of self-government. that form, which we have substituted, restores the free right to the unbounded exercise of reason and freedom of opinion.

all eyes are opened, or opening, to the rights of man. the general spread of the light of science has already laid open to every view. the palpable truth that the mass of mankind has not been born with saddles on their backs, nor a favored few booted and spurred, ready to ride them legitimately, by the grace of god.
let the annual return of this day forever refresh our recollections of these rights, and an undiminished devotion to them.�

Happy Fourth of July. Go create some memories.

Friday the 13th was a sad day. I lost a friend. No, not a personal one. A political buddy. A colleague. Someone I could count on every Sunday to grill and drill the politicos and power brokers until many of them shrank in fear. Tim Russert of Meet the Press died unexpectantly on Friday.

Each Sunday, his voice, now suddenly silent, shook the walls of Washington and sent shockwaves throughout the world. His was the voice of the common man, yours and mine. It will be impossible to replace him.
With all of his co-workers and friends offering their immediate eulogies over the weekend, it was impossible not to find a positive story about Tim from someone. It turns out that his credibility that poured through the airwaves was real. He was authentic. He showed up. He cherished his family and loved his work. He was passionate about both and it sparkled in his ever-present smile.
Some friend I am. I didn’t even know that he was not a trained journalist, but rather a lawyer, turned politico, turned broadcaster, turned tenacious journalist. He will be remembered as one of the best ever no matter the medium.
As an educated journalist and former newspaper publisher, I am always on the lookout for someone in the media to step up and speak truth to power.  That is what is necessary when it comes to shining a light on darkness and the survival of the Fourth Estate as a viable alternative to a closed government. Truth tellers are not easy to find. And these days, my favorite truth teller may be viewed as someone else’s liar and vice versa. 

Tim, rightfully, dealt with facts and probing questions that most often had a follow-up illuminating someone’s past quote that was a blatant contradiction. He was always a gentleman (even when I didn’t want him to be) but his steely eyes made the liars twitch. It made my Sundays.

Real investigative journalism is an art form. From my view there are not many practicing today. With hubris comes decline. I used to think that the Watergate boys were the best. But since those turbulent times, they and others like them seem to have bought into their own press clippings. Their credibility with me shrinks as their fame rises. 
Tim did not seem to allow ambition to cloud his view. He took over a stale program in 1991 and transformed it, allowing MTP to be relevant once again. He prepared for each Sunday as if going into battle. Even though he knew the guests well, he did not shrink from his duty to extricate the truth and tell America what was really happening. Unfortunately, even he was tricked a few times.
If you have read my book The Offsite: A Leadership Challenge Fable, you know that I feel leadership is a way of life. It is a moment-to-moment choice about creating open, honest and authentic relationships that urge others to want to discover their power and focus on what matters to them and their community.

Leaders are credible, visionary and challenging. They welcome learning and teaching moments with others. And they celebrate individual and group success.  Hey, they’re like Tim!
Goodbye, my friend.

Robert H. Thompson is the author of The Offsite: A Leadership Challenge Fable. You can reach him at www.leaderinsideout.com