Cookie has this line she says (even to me!) when someone (like me!) is cutting corners or letting things slide: Don’t slink down the ladder. Just five words, but they carry the weight of a warning and the wisdom of a lifetime.

It’s about how you carry yourself all the time. What she means is, don’t lower your standards. Don’t get sloppy. Don’t let your attitude sag or your effort fade just because no one’s watching. Don’t let your clothes look like you’ve given up on yourself. Don’t hang around people who pull you down and call it fun. Don’t write like you’re too cool to care. Don’t get lazy with your words, your manners, your mindset, what you show people on social media.

Slinking down the ladder doesn’t usually happen all at once. It’s not some big fall. It’s the slow erosion of pride. The shrug. The “whatever.” The decision to blend in with people going nowhere. And once you let go of that first rung—dignity, self-respect, excellence—the rest gets easier to lose. That’s what Cookie’s warning you about. Not because she’s strict. Because she’s right. You were made for more than that. So act like it. Even in the small things. Especially in the small things. Because those are the ones that shape who you really become.

It shows up in little moments. In the way you carry yourself. In what you wear. In how you write an email. In the kind of people you let shape your thinking. It’s not just about climbing to the top of something; it’s about not sliding into something smaller than you were meant to be.

There’s a kind of gravity in life that can pull people downward—not just in status or success, but in spirit. It tempts you to care less, to try less, to shrug when you should stand. Maybe it starts with slouching into sloppy clothes because “who cares,” or deciding grammar’s not worth the effort because “people get the point.” Maybe it’s brushing off deadlines, or hanging around people who speak in sarcasm and complaint because it’s easier than facing hard truths. Maybe it’s starting to think that negativity is a kind of intelligence, and kindness is just naive.

That’s slinking down the ladder. Not in one big dramatic fall, but in a slow, forgettable slide. You stop holding the line. You stop showing up with pride. You stop thinking it matters.

But it does matter. It matters because who you are when no one’s watching becomes who you are. The quiet decisions shape you. I just finished reading the autobiography of Pope Francis and one of his points of wisdom is to be punctual.  Being on time may seem like a small detail, but it’s a sign of good manners. It tells people, Your time matters to me. It’s respect in action. Just like saying please and thank you or I’m sorry—those aren’t just nice things to say. They’re bricks in the foundation of your character. And they mean the most when no one’s making you say them.

Even the smallest things—holding the door open, especially for a woman if you’re a man—can be a reflection of something bigger. That’s not old-fashioned. That’s chivalry. And chivalry is just another word for honoring the dignity of others. It says, I’m not the only one who matters.

For the girls: don’t let the world talk you into thinking your value is in how much of your body you show. It’s not. If your butt cheeks are hanging out of your shorts, or your cleavage is the first thing people notice, you’re selling yourself short. You’re more than that. You’re worth more than that. Carry yourself like someone with dignity—because you are. Modesty is about self-respect. It’s about saving the deepest parts of you for the people who truly deserve to know you, not the ones just passing by. You are beautiful but you are not a painting for people to ogle over.  

Not slinking down the ladder means you hold yourself to a higher standard even when there’s no audience. Especially when there’s no audience. Because success doesn’t start with applause—it starts with your thoughts. Your inner world leaks into your outer world. What you dwell on, what you feed your mind, will eventually shape your actions. And your actions, over time, reveal your priorities far more than your words ever could.

So build your life from the inside out. Think clearly. Keep your mind clean. Don’t let bitterness or resentment settle in and start shaping how you see the world. Forgive, even when it’s hard. Give people the benefit of the doubt, even when it feels risky. Love, even when it costs something. That’s not weakness. That’s strength rooted deep.

You don’t have to be perfect. No one is. But you do have to care. You have to care enough to keep trying when it would be easier to cut corners. You have to care enough to dress with dignity, speak with respect, show up on time, write thoughtfully, and treat people well.

Cookie says don’t slink down the ladder because she knows that you were made to live with honor. With purpose. With strength. You don’t have to be rich or famous or important in the world’s eyes to carry yourself with dignity. You just have to remember who you are—and whose you are. God made you. Cookie and I love you with our whole hearts. And we believe in the kind of person you are. So hold your head high. Keep your standards. Choose the harder right over the easier wrong. Not because someone is watching, but because you are. Cookie has always told me to pay your future self. And usually she says this in the context of saving our money and putting it away for a rainy day.  But it also applies to your future person you are becoming—the one you’re building day by day.