Tell the truth, work hard, and come to dinner on time.

The words of Gerald R. Ford—“Tell the truth, work hard, and come to dinner on time”—shine with the plain, steady light of a life lived with integrity. They may seem simple at first, yet they hold within them the distilled wisdom of generations. In them is a vision of the good life, a life not built upon lofty rhetoric or grand illusions, but upon the daily discipline of honesty, diligence, and devotion to family. Ford, who rose to the presidency in the wake of scandal and distrust, knew the power of such simplicity. He understood that truth, labor, and love at home form the foundation upon which nations themselves are built.

To tell the truth is the first command, and it is no small thing. Truth is the bedrock of trust, the soil in which relationships, families, and societies grow strong. Ford lived in the shadow of Watergate, where lies from the highest office had corroded faith in leadership. His call to truth was both personal and national: a reminder that no title, no power, can endure without honesty. Just as the ancients revered Satya, the eternal truth that holds the universe together, so Ford called his people to remember that no matter how complex life becomes, truth remains the simplest and strongest guide.

To work hard is the second command, echoing the eternal wisdom that nothing worthy is gained without effort. Ford himself embodied this, rising from modest beginnings to the presidency through perseverance and steady service. In this, he reminds us of the wisdom of the Romans, who praised labor omnia vincit—“work conquers all.” Hard work is not merely toil for survival; it is the shaping of character, the steady chiseling of the soul into something resilient and noble. It is through work that dreams are built, and through effort that dignity is maintained.

The third command—come to dinner on time—carries a gentleness that completes the triad. For what is life, if truth and labor are not joined with love and belonging? To sit at the table with family, to honor them with one’s presence and punctuality, is to recognize that work and honesty mean little if they do not end in communion. The ancients gathered at the hearth, breaking bread as a sacred act of unity. Ford’s words echo this timeless truth: that greatness in public life is meaningless if one fails in the small, daily duties of love within the home.

History gives us shining examples of this wisdom. Consider George Washington, who, though commander of armies and father of a nation, held honesty as his highest virtue. His labor was unceasing, but he also longed for his hearth at Mount Vernon, where family and the peace of dinner at home gave him strength. Or think of Abraham Lincoln, who bore the crushing weight of civil war, yet cherished the simple joys of home, finding solace with his children. These men reveal that greatness is not measured only by victories and speeches, but by the ability to balance truth, hard work, and the bonds of love.

The lesson is clear: live with integrity in both the great and the small. Do not seek complicated paths when simple virtues will suffice. Tell the truth, even when it costs you; work hard, even when you are weary; and show up for those you love, for without them, no success can satisfy. In these three commands lies a complete philosophy: truth for the soul, labor for the hands, and love for the heart.

Therefore, O seeker, remember Ford’s wisdom: life’s greatness is found not in grandeur, but in the constancy of simple virtues. Nations are healed when their leaders tell the truth. Families thrive when parents work hard. Love deepens when we gather at the table together. These things are not small—they are eternal. Practice them daily, and you will find that the life of integrity, though humble in form, is heroic in spirit, and will endure far longer than any crown or monument.