Before Anyone Wore a Rank

Persimmon tree

Dear Vets — it's Mother's Day weekend.
And I'm grateful for the chance to sit with what that means.

Some of this is probably landing the way it is because of the timing. The first leaders most of us ever knew were our mothers. And almost none of them got the credit they deserved for what they were actually doing — showing up, carrying things they never named, being responsible without needing to be told they were. If that isn't the model, I don't know what is.

That truth came back to me recently, and it brought a memory with it.

Years ago, my wife and I visited a friend's home on a weekend. He was an Army surgeon — department head, respected figure in his specialty, the kind of professional who commanded a room. His wife had three kids and didn't work outside the home at the time. She had put together an excellent dinner. Afterward, without a word, my friend quietly got up, collected the dishes, and started washing them. Still engaged in conversation. No announcement. No performance. Just natural.

It stopped me. Not because I'd never seen a man clear a table, but because of how natural it was — no announcement, no production. Just a leader who didn't switch off when he came home. This was before I had kids, so I hadn't yet lived the logistics, the mental load, the relentlessness of it from the inside. But I knew what I was looking at.

I asked him about it later. He said, casually, "Yeah, my wife works so damn hard; I just gotta help."

That was it. No grand philosophy. Just a man who saw what his wife was carrying and decided to match it.

It's a harder standard than it sounds, and honestly, it can be exhausting. I try to stay consistent with it anyway, because what I've seen — in my own home and in others — is that the effort compounds. A leader who brings the same care home that they bring to work tends to have a happier family, a stronger marriage, and frankly, more peace. That's not a cliché. That's just what I've observed. And I think it makes you better on the outside, too.

And I know "mother" doesn't mean the same thing for all of us. Some of you were raised by a grandmother. An aunt. A foster mom. A woman down the street who decided you were hers. Some of you are watching your wife do that work for kids who weren't born to her. The title varies. The work doesn't.

Mothers already know this. They've been doing it without the title, without the recognition, and without anyone tracking their performance. My own mother did it — dedicated her whole life to it. My wife does it every single day, and she does it exceptionally well.

Which brings me back to this weekend.

This Mother's Day, I'd encourage you to think less about the gift and more about the gesture — what actually communicates that you see her, that you recognize what she carries, and that you don't take it for granted. The card matters. But what goes with it, or what comes before it, is usually what she remembers.

For me, that means putting hands to work. This weekend, I plan to plant persimmon trees in our yard. My wife has wanted them for years, and we just never got around to it. This time, I'm making it a priority. A special thank you to my friends Matt and Nicole for providing them, and for teaching me how to bake bread, which my wife is a huuuge fan of too. This feels like the right way to honor the mother in my household.

I'm still learning what it means to lead at home the way I try to lead anywhere else. I don't think that work is ever supposed to be finished.

Adjust your bearings — but keep moving.

Press on,
Freddie J. Kim

If this resonated, join Azimuth Check: Adjusting your bearings after honorable service — a monthly reset for leaders adjusting their bearings after honorable service.

[Get in Touch]