Remembering My Mother, Remembering Dennis Johnson

My Mother and D.J. both left legacies of kindness, and compassion, and of putting the team before all individual goals.

For eight years, my mother worked as a caregiver at a place called the Friendship School for the disabled elderly. It was her life's calling. In a close-knit group of faculty, she was a source of synergy, with a giving spirit that would have made John Stockton envious.

Dennis Johnson won three championships with the Seattle Sonics and the Boston Celtics. He was the consummate team player, and one of only a handful of NBA greats to collect 15,000 points and 5,000 assists.

Even Larry Bird, the embodiment of a team-first attitude, called Johnson "the best I ever played with."

Bird had good cause to be so appreciative, especially after D.J.'s difficult layup turned Larry's steal-and-pass at the end of Game 5 in the '87 Eastern Conference Finals into the stuff of legend.

But Johnson wasn't the only one with a flair for timely heroics. At the Friendship School, my Mother was known for being eternally ready to lend a hand, and her streak of creative independence kept her forever on the ball.

To me, she is Mother Teresa, Princess Diana, and every other woman who devoted her life to service.

Were my Mother and D.J. both born with a natural inclination towards selflessness?

It would certainly seem that way. And the only way to honor them, now, is through our words and our actions.

Amidst the likes of Bird and Red Auerbach, Johnson will be remembered as the Celtic who ran a team that needed everything and nothing out of its point guard. On a squad full of stars, D.J. was the man who made it go: The player whose penchant for giving helped his teammates shine.

Watching my Mother at work, I was always struck by her yielding nature. She was the first to know when her role needed to be toned down. She was self-effacing and eminently lovable—and she made her coworkers comfortable and confident with everything she did.

The ultimate lesson to be learned from my Mother and Dennis Johnson: A life shouldn't be measured in years, but rather by the number of people it touches.

And these two touched plenty.