My father was a leader. I didn’t always know exactly what he did because he worked for the super-secret National Security Agency (NSA). I did know that when he retired he received the Exceptional Civilian Service Award, the highest award given by the NSA. What I didn’t know was that he was a leader who made a difference impacting the lives of others
A week or so after he died, my mother received an envelope with a handwritten letter, accompanied by a typewritten letter, from a man who had met my dad at NSA back in 1970 (letters pictured above: photo by Daniel Jarris). We were wondering how we were going to notify my dad’s former co-workers of his passing, since my dad retired in 1985. The letter opened saying that he’d received news of my dad’s death “electronically from The Phoenix Society.” It’s the NSA. They all knew already.
Here are some excerpts from the letter:
I was just one of many who came to know and respect Mr. Shitama, although my role in his life was small, indeed. I had just graduated from M.I.T. and was hired by NSA for the summer of 1970 before being called to active duty by the Air Force that September. I worked in R55 on a project at the leading edge of computer graphics interfaces, linking large data bases to smaller “personal” computers with what was perhaps the earliest use by the agency of user-friendly graphics and that new thing, the mouse that is now so common.
Mr. Shitama, then Chief of G73, was my customer. He showed great interest in our new work, enjoyed our demonstrations of progress and had a very welcome and encouraging smile. “Call me Kaz,” he would say, but I just couldn’t. To me, he was always Mr. Shitama.
At project’s end, he sponsored me for a formal award and also took the time to send me, through channels, a personal letter of appreciation. This was, for me, a high honor, but I think it says even more about the effective leader and the kind, caring man that your husband was. I have kept a copy of the letter but I would like you to have the original.
Sincerely,
David A. Herrelko
BRIG GEN, USAF (Ret.)
I’m not sure what impressed me more. The fact that my dad had taken the time to sponsor a young, temporary employee for an award. Or that General Herrelko had saved the typewritten recommendation letter for 42+ years. Or that the general took the time to hand-write a note to my mom and send it with the original recommendation letter, signed by my father. Regardless, it made me realize what kind of leader my dad was. One who impacted the lives of others.
I’ve since heard other stories. My friend’s sister told me at the memorial service how grateful she was that my dad not only hired her 30 years ago, but that he kept tabs on her progress to make sure she was doing OK.
A Japanese-American man who grew up in my dad’s Seattle neighborhood attended because he had written an article in the Seattle Times about his brother who died in WWII. He had wondered in the article whether anyone would remember his brother, who was killed on a battlefield in France. My dad took the initiative to contact him to tell him that HE remembered. The man wrote to our family in an email, “Although I did not know him, in attending his memorial, it was clear to me that it was in his innate nature to extend his assurance to me that, indeed, there was someone who still remembered my brother after all these years.“
Another man wrote an email about how my dad was not afraid to create Russian and Serbo-Croatian language training programs using innovative techniques that other branches were reluctant to use.
I now wonder how many lives my dad impacted because he was willing to take a few minutes here and there to make a difference. I realize now, he wasn’t just a leader, he was a great leader. If I sound proud, it’s because I am.
More importantly, it’s caused me to reflect on how I live my life. Could I take a few minutes to help someone get better at what they do? Would I take the time to help someone else’s career, even if I don’t benefit at all? Will I invest in others so they can make a difference in this world?
I don’t know if my actions will live out my answers, but I know this: great leaders pay it forward.
What about you?