5 Lessons My Dad Taught Me After 20+ Years in the Military

Today is Veterans Day. And every year on Veterans Day, I post on LinkedIn with a picture of my dad, saying how proud I am to be a military daughter. This year, with my blog presence growing, I decided to do something a little different. This week's blog is about being a military daughter: the lessons I learned, the respect I have for the military, a few parenting takeaways, and just some things about me. Veterans Day felt like the right moment to share it.

First, let me say I'm not a parent myself yet. But now that I'm older, I understand the love and safety my dad worked so hard to build around me, and it's something I fully intend to bring into my own children's upbringing one day.

Growing up

My dad was a red beret combat controller. If you've never heard of them, combat controllers are Air Force special operators who are part air traffic controller, part paratrooper, part air strategist. They're trained to parachute into hostile environments, set up and control airfields and landing zones, direct aircraft in and out, and call in air support for the teams on the ground. Their selection and training pipeline is known as one of the longest and toughest in the entire military, and their "First There" motto comes from the fact that they're often the first ones in, clearing the way for everyone else.

I grew up mostly on Pope Air Force Base in Fayetteville, North Carolina. And while most kids spent their weekends on playgrounds, my favorite weekend activity was watching my dad and his friends jump out of airplanes. Think about that for a second. Other kids got swing sets. I got a front-row seat to grown men falling out of the sky on purpose, and I thought it was the coolest thing in the world. Honestly, I still do.

But then, I had no idea what any of it meant. My dad did tours all over the world and saw more combat than anyone I know.

My dad was an incredibly loving father, but he was also tough, and a lot of what he taught me ended up shaping my core values. He was a military man raising two daughters who would grow up to be military daughters themselves. One of us (not me) ended up in the military as a career. But at the end of the day, I think he believed the very best thing he could do as a parent was keep us safe. Everything he taught me, in one way or another, came back to that. Twenty-plus years of service gave him plenty of lessons to pass down, and five of them have stayed with me long after I left home.

Lesson 1:

Don't sit with your back to people. My dad was never one to take a seat at a restaurant without knowing exactly who and what was around him, and he made sure I noticed it, too. Now today, let's be honest, I don't take it literally every time I sit down for dinner. But the lesson underneath it stuck with me for good. Watch your own back. Pay attention to what's going on around you, and don't assume someone else is doing that job for you. It's really a lesson in taking responsibility for yourself, and I've carried it into every room I've walked into since.

Lesson 2:

This one came with a game. Always have eyes on the exit sign and always have an exit strategy. When I was little, my dad and I turned this into something fun, practicing how to get out of our house safely in an emergency and what to do if we ever experienced a break-in. At the time it just felt like playing with my dad. Looking back, it was a masterclass in teaching a child to be prepared without making her afraid. I grew up knowing exactly what to do, and I never once felt scared learning it. Today I can't walk into a restaurant, theater, or hotel without noticing where the exits are, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Lesson 3:

The third was a rule I heard every single time I left the house as a teenager: always stick together. My dad never let me walk out the door without saying it. He didn't let my friends leave without hearing it either. As a teenager, I'll admit I rolled my eyes plenty. As an adult, I realize how much it shaped me. Now, even when I'm out with my friends, I make sure none of us are veering off alone. As women, it's important that we keep each other safe, and I hear his voice in my head every time I do. A lesson he gave me for my safety turned into a lesson in loyalty, too.

Lesson 4:

The fourth lesson is the one that arrived when I needed it most. During one of the first really stressful seasons of my life, my dad told me that the best soldiers know how to ask for help. It stopped me in my tracks. Here was a man who had spent his career in one of the toughest, most demanding jobs in the military, telling me that asking for help wasn't weakness, it was strength. It reminded me that my community was my lifeline, and that I never had to do hard things alone. I think about that every time I'm tempted to white-knuckle my way through something instead of reaching out.

Lesson 5:

And the fifth, my favorite, is the one I come back to over and over. My dad famously always told me, "Two things happen to coal under pressure. They either crumble, or they turn into diamonds." Whenever I'm feeling overwhelmed, I hear that line. It's helped me understand my strengths and weaknesses, and it's kept my weaknesses from getting the best of me. It's also helped me manage the stress of a very demanding, high-pressure job, and it reminds me, every time, which one I'd rather be.

Happy Veterans Day

I don't think my dad ever sat down and said, "I'm going to teach my daughters life lessons." He just lived them, and said them, and made them part of the games we played and the rules we followed, until one day they were simply part of who I am. That, to me, is what great parenting looks like. It's not a grand speech. It's consistency, love, and a little toughness, delivered over and over until it becomes part of your foundation.

To my dad, thank you for the lessons, the games, the front-row seat to your world, and the safety you built around me. And to every veteran, service member, and military family reading this: thank you for your service, and for the sacrifices that so often go unseen, especially the ones made at home.

Happy Veterans Day.