The Best Advice I Ever Got (26 page)

William J. Clinton

Forty-second President of the United States, Founder of the Clinton Global Initiative and the William J. Clinton Foundation

Be a Good Citizen

When I graduated from college in 1968, the definition of being a good citizen was to get as much education as you could; work hard for the money you’re paid; be a responsible parent and neighbor; obey the law and pay your taxes; and cast an informed vote at election time.

But today’s world is more diverse and interdependent than ever before, and for this reason, there is another item to add to the list: You also have to do what you can as private citizens to tackle our common problems and advance the public good.

No matter how good government policies are or how much economic growth we enjoy, there is always going to be a gap between what the private sector can produce and what the government can provide. In that space, citizens have to take action to bridge the broken places in our society and around the world.

This idea is slightly older than the United States. Benjamin Franklin organized the first volunteer Fire Department in Philadelphia before the U.S. Constitution was ratified. Today, we have a million nongovernmental organizations in America, and more than 350,000 religious organizations working to heal the broken places in society.

You are carrying the future of America in your heart and your mind. So live your dreams and remember, whatever you choose to do with your life, you must also be a citizen of your country, your nation, and our interdependent world. Because while our differences make life more fascinating, our common humanity matters more.

WHAT BOATS ARE BUILT FOR

On Taking Risks and Seeking Opportunity

Only those who dare to fail can ever achieve greatly
.

—ROBERT F. KENNEDY

I
loved working on the
Today
show. The hours stunk, but I had even come to love mornings in Manhattan. The rosy gray hues at sunrise, the shiny, hosed-down sidewalks, the determined, solitary runners that few are up and about to see. But after fifteen years I was worried, not that the show had become stale but that I would become stale doing it. So when CBS, specifically Les Moonves, began wooing me to come anchor its evening newscast I was flattered and intrigued. And I felt that I had a unique opportunity to show that a female could have this high-profile position and own it. I wanted young girls to watch and dream just a bit bigger.

Someone recently put a pinprick in this lofty and perhaps self-important notion. I met a woman on vacation who told me that on the night of my first broadcast she picked up her daughter (who must have been about seven at the time) from school and told her they were going to watch the
Evening News
together because this was a big day for women. As she recounted this important mother-daughter moment, I was filled with pride. “We watched that night,” she told me. “And we never watched you again.” Realizing that she might have insulted me, she added sheepishly, “We don’t really watch TV.”

But leaving a successful morning show and my colleagues, especially Matt, was daunting. So I convened my kitchen cabinet (i.e., my two daughters, Ellie and Carrie) around the kitchen table and asked them what they thought. Ellie told me to go for it, and thought a change would do me good. Carrie, who was ten, said, “Mommy, you’ll be the first woman to do this job by yourself. You have to do it!” Without encouragement from my daughters, my parents, and a trusted circle of friends, I’m not sure I would have made the leap. But I’ll never forget the note that a producer from the
Today
show wrote me shortly after I announced I was making the move. “A boat is always safe in the harbor,” she wrote. “But that’s not what boats are built for.”

Going to CBS has taught me that getting out of your comfort zone is, well, uncomfortable. But as Mark Twain once wrote, “Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do.” I know I would have regretted not seizing this opportunity for the rest of my life.

So get out of the harbor. The territory may be uncharted and the water may get pretty choppy at times, but you’ll be amazed at what you learn, especially about yourself. And, through it all, make sure you have a handful of people you can always depend on to throw you a life preserver when things get really rough.

Ellen DeGeneres

Stand-up Comedian and Emmy Award-Winning Talk-Show Host

Be True to Yourself

When I finished school, I was completely lost. And by school I mean middle school, but I went ahead and finished high school anyway. I really had no ambition—I didn’t know what I wanted to do. I did everything. I shucked oysters, I was a hostess, I was a bartender, I was a waitress, I painted houses, I sold vacuum cleaners—I had no idea. And I thought I’d just finally settle in some job and I would make enough money to pay my rent, maybe have basic cable, maybe not. I didn’t really have a plan. My point is that by the time I was entering adulthood I really thought I knew who I was, but I had no idea. Like for example, when I was twenty I was dating men. So what I’m saying is, when you’re older most of you will be gay.

Anyway, I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life, and the way I ended up on this path was from a very tragic event. I was maybe nineteen, and my girlfriend at the time was killed in a car accident. And I passed the accident and I didn’t know it was her and I kept going, and I found out shortly after that it was her. And I was living in a basement apartment, I had no money, I had no heat, no air; I had a mattress on the floor and the apartment was infested with fleas. And I was soul-searching. I was like, Why is she suddenly gone and there are fleas here? I don’t understand, there must be a purpose, and wouldn’t it be so convenient if we could pick up the phone and call God and ask these questions.

I started writing, and what poured out of me was an imaginary conversation with God, which was one-sided, and I finished writing it and I looked at it and I said to myself—and I had never done stand-up, ever, there was no club in town—I said, “I’m gonna do this on
The Tonight Show
with Johnny Carson”—at the time he was the king—“and I’m gonna be the first woman in the history of the show to be called over to sit down.” And, several years later, I was the first woman in the history of the show, and the only woman in the history of the show to sit down, because of that phone conversation with God that I wrote. And I started this path of stand-up, and it was successful and it was great, but it was hard, because I was trying to please everybody and I had this secret that I was keeping: that I was gay. I thought that if people found out they wouldn’t like me, they wouldn’t laugh at me.

Then my career really took off. In 1994, I got my own sitcom,
Ellen
, and reached another level of success. And I thought, What if they find out I’m gay, then they’ll never watch (this was a long time ago, this was when we just had white presidents—this was back many years ago). And I finally decided that I was living with so much shame, and so much fear, that I just couldn’t live that way anymore, and I decided to come out and make it creative. My character would come out at the same time, and it wasn’t to make a political statement; it wasn’t to do anything other than free myself up from this heaviness that I was carrying around. I just wanted to be honest. And I thought, What’s the worst that could happen? I could lose my career. Well, I did. I lost my career.

The network canceled the show after six years, without even telling me; I read it in the paper. The phone didn’t ring for three years. I had no offers. Nobody wanted to touch me at all. Yet I was getting letters from kids who almost committed suicide, but didn’t, because of what I did. And I realized that I had a purpose. And it wasn’t just about me, and it wasn’t about celebrity. But I still felt that I was being punished. It was a bad time—I was angry, I was sad—and then I was offered a talk show. And the people who offered me the talk show tried to sell it. Most stations didn’t want to pick it up. Most people didn’t want to buy it because they thought nobody would watch me.

Today,
The Ellen DeGeneres Show
is in its eighth season and has won thirty-one Daytime Emmy Awards. Really, when I look back on it I wouldn’t change a thing. I mean, it was so important for me to lose everything, because I found out what the most important thing is: to be true to yourself. Ultimately, that’s what’s gotten me to this place. I don’t live in fear—I’m free, I have no secrets, and I know I’ll always be okay, because no matter what, I know who I am.

So, in conclusion, when I was younger I thought success was something different. I thought, When I grow up I want to be famous. I want to be a star. I want to be in movies. When I grow up, I want to see the world, drive nice cars, I want to have groupies. To quote the Pussycat Dolls. How many people thought it was “boobies,” by the way? It’s not—it’s “groupies.”

The definition of success changes throughout your life. For me, the most important thing is to live with integrity, and not to give in to peer pressure. Never try to be something that you’re not. To live your life as an honest and compassionate person. Those are the most important qualities to me. Stay true to yourself. Never follow anyone else’s path, unless you’re in the woods and you’re lost and you see a path; then, by all means, you should follow that path. And don’t give advice; it will come back and bite you in the ass. Don’t take anyone’s advice, either. So my advice to you is to be true to yourself and everything will be fine.

Condoleezza Rice

Sixty-sixth Secretary of State of the United States and Stanford University Professor

Find Your Next Adventure

As I traveled the world representing the United States as our nation’s sixty-sixth secretary of state, I was often asked how I overcame the struggles of segregation in the Deep South and developed an interest in the Soviet Union at a time when few blacks—let alone women—were expected to pursue a career in international politics. I would reply, “I started as a failed piano major.”

In all seriousness, my story was possible only through the blessings of my parents, who provided me with a supportive, nurturing environment of family, faith, and community. They believed firmly in the transformative power of education and were committed, despite their modest means, to providing me with anything that could be called an educational opportunity. They also gave me a piece of advice that helped me overcome the horrors of racism in segregated Birmingham: They reminded me that even if I could not control my circumstances, I could control my response to them.

My parents gave me another gift as well: the freedom to try and, on occasion, to fail. Throughout my youth, they encouraged me to try anything new and challenging without worrying about whether I would be a success. I spent the bulk of my teenage years figure skating, and although I wasn’t very good, I worked hard and eventually developed the kind of commitment and discipline that I draw upon to this day. I had also been convinced from an early age that I was going to be a concert pianist. It wasn’t until I wandered into a class on international politics during college, taught by Josef Korbel, Madeleine Albright’s father, that I discovered my passion for foreign affairs.

The point is that life is full of surprises and serendipity. Being open to unexpected turns in the road is an important part of success. If you try to plan every step, you may miss those wonderful twists and turns. Just find your next adventure—do it well, enjoy it—and then, not now, think about what comes next.