I was still in high school when my father was fired from the San Francisco Examiner. My dad loved the newspaper business, and he especially enjoyed his job, working with the newsboys who (then) sold papers on street corners. I knew he'd be devastated by the loss.

To add to the problem, he had been employed by the Examiner for 30 years -- but not consecutively. (He left school at twelve, and worked to send his younger brothers through Stanford University.) So when the newspaper eliminated its entire circulation department, my dad was not only out of work, he was out of any chance to receive a pension.

I will never forget that afternoon. I came home from school to find my father already there. Not only was he home, her was in the kitchen. In fact, my dad was at the sink, bent over, holding his head in his hands.

My heart went out to him, but as I was about to say something consoling, I noticed that the reason he was bent over the sink was that my sister was dying his grey hair brown so that he'd look younger when he went looking for a new job. Dad straightened up, grinned, and said: "Now we're going to have some fun!"

And fun we had indeed, for my father did many fascinating things, including owning the "front yard" of a traveling circus, managing a gold mine, and taking photographs for postcards. In his late sixties, he opening his last business -- a carnival supply company, which he operated successfully until his death (in the middle of a work day) at the age of 80.

My mother worked along side my father in most of his endeavors. After his death, she did what any grieving widow in her seventies would do -- she took up country-western dancing. And a couple of years later, Mom married her country-western partner. (At their wedding, they wore their dancing costumes. But that, quite literally, is another story.)

Having the profound luck of being raised by these two incredibly resilient people is something for which I will always be grateful. They made dealing with the vagaries of change seem like a great adventure.

And that is what they taught me -- but not by anything they said. I don't recall my parents sharing any slogans or advice on managing change, but I DO remember exactly what they did, and the attitudes they held.

This is also how the people who live and work with you learn about change – not by what you say, but by everything you do, and how you feel about doing it.

In this season of present-giving, I’d like to remind you that one of the greatest gifts you have to offer, is to embody the change (whatever that is!) you want to see in the world.

Happy Holidays!