10 Things I Need To Thank My Father For

On this Fathers Day, along with the whoopie pies I sent, here is the rest of my gift to my dad – or more accurately my thanks for the gifts he’s given me.

1. Work Ethic. My father has an unshakeable work ethic and this has been firmly instilled in both my brother and I. “If you’re going to do something, do it right” is something I remember hearing over and over again during my childhood; however its worth noting that this was delivered more as an imperative than an ethos (anyone who knows my father is nodding and smiling right now). It was his expectation. I can tell you that I’ve had many a happy employer over the years due to my work ethic.

2. Brevity. Conversations in our house were typically direct, and to the point. We didn’t really pull punches; we said what we meant – assessed the damage – and moved on. We didn’t belabor issues into the ground. While sometimes these conversations were uncomfortable, you knew where everyone stood. My husband comes from a family of conversationalists. They like to talk and talk and talk, summarize things, and then look at it from a different angle. Its pure torture for me and I’ve come to call it “heel grinding” because that’s what it feels like to me. I find beauty in brevity and try to apply it both to my oral and written communications.

3. Fearlessness. When I tell people about my dad, at some point their mouths start to gape open a bit. It might be the fact that he’s started and sold 3 very successful companies over the course of his life, or that he was a charter boat captain, a lobster fisherman, a race car driver, a Busch Grand National crew chief, a private pilot who owned his own plane, etc. - you get the idea. I’ve always thought of my dad as fearless; if he wanted something, he just went about getting it. I like to think I have some of that in me too.

4. Making your own way. Every now and then my husband has to remind me that we’ll never be handed anything; we’re going to have to work for everything we have. I’ve known this along, because it’s the same message my father always delivered to me – count on yourself and you’ll never be disappointed – but every now and then I would forget it; usually at those times where you just look to the sky and say “Really? Really?” because you can’t imagine any worse luck, taking on any further burden, or having anything else go wrong. But I’ve always had confidence in myself, and now I’ve also got my husband to count on, and I think we’re doing pretty good.

5. Jumper cables. I still have the set that my father gave me when turned 16 years old and got my first car. No matter where I’ve lived, eventually everyone always figures out that I’m the person that has the jumper cables in the neighborhood (as our mailman did about 3 weeks ago). I’ve received more compliments on a) the fact that I have jumper cables b) what a nice set they are and c) that I actually know how to use them!

6. Change. The amount of change in our lives when I was growing up is probably directly related to #3 above. My father was never afraid to make a change. If he wanted a better (or warmer) life, he evaluated what needed to be done and a plan was put into action. This applies to himself - his hobbies and his work life - but also to the family. We moved a lot; I attended 8 schools in 12 years, but looking back it was a great lesson to not accept less. Less than what you want. Less than what you dream for. I took this example to heart and moved so much in my 20s that family members learned to record my new address in pencil, not pen, lest they loose an entire page in their address book to scratch-outs. But I don’t regret any move (location or career), even though some were lateral changes, they all led me to where I’m at today and that’s a great place!

7. Mirrors. No, not those mirrors, the mirrors on your car. Growing up I had a horse and so therefore we also had a horse trailer. When I turned 16 my dad said that I could start driving myself to horse shows – as soon as I could back the truck (a regular pick up truck with a cap on the back – which means you can’t look out the back window!) and trailer up our driveway, from one end to the other. No big deal you say? Our driveway was almost a half-mile long, had two hills, and more curves than Pamela Anderson. I practiced every day after school and after about a month I took the test, and passed. At virtually every show I ever attended, I was asked to back up somebody’s rig for them; I was the go-to person after they had seen me park mine. To this day I back up my car with the side mirrors even though I can see out the back window, something my mother commented on during her last visit; “Just like your father, you back up with the side mirrors.” I took it as a complement.

8. Leadership. As I mentioned above my father has started and sold 3 very successful companies during his life and at each he developed a strong following of dedicated and satisfied employees. No matter your background, pedigree, resume, or degree - my father values people – and those people that he values are treated and appreciated accordingly. This is a strong contributing factor to his success. The number one reason employees leave a company is always thought to be money. It isn’t, that’s just something employers tell themselves to justify the turnover. It’s lack of acknowledgement and appreciation for their work. I’ve tried to apply the same principles in my career and based on feedback from the people I’ve worked with, and for over the years, I think I’m on the right track.

9. Letting go. My dad’s got a temper and I inherited that from him in spades. I’m not thanking him for that, because sometimes even I hate my temper (it can frighten those around me), but what I remember most about my dad’s temper was how quickly it passed. Don’t get me wrong, he could be a real shuttle-launch (his term, not mine, but he does use it to describe me – I’m enjoying turning the tables on him :o), but once the initial blast was over, it was all about moving on. I’m exactly the same way. If I have to have a temper, I take a small amount of solace in the fact that I don’t scorch the earth – just the immediate area around the launch pad.

10. For being the family’s “go-to-guy”. My dad has been everyone’s go-to-guy for as long as I can remember. He just knows things, and people. No matter what the issue, people would call my father. He’d have an answer, or at least an idea, or know who to call for the same if he came up blank. This has been a heavy burden over the years; family funerals come to mind – there’s always one person who must carry the weight for those who are unable to in their grief and more often than not that’s been my dad. He’s always there for anyone who calls. Sometimes it’s his time, experience, connections or advice – but I believe people think of my dad like State Farm; he’ll always be there when you need him most. I know I do.

Breaking Up is Hard To Do

My 1-year subscription to a magazine is about to expire, I know this because nearly everyday I receive something in the mail alerting me to this fact. It started about 9 months ago with notices stating “your subscription will soon expire, renew now at this special rate!” Huh? Clearly their definition of “soon” and mine differ greatly. At this point in our relationship, I was still trying to decide whether or not this magazine was worthy of my limited reading time. A particularly interesting issue that I lifted from a doctor’s waiting room had seduced me into signing up for a full year of home delivery, but now that we were regularly seeing one another some of the shine had worn off. It just wasn’t as exciting as that first “stolen” date.

A couple of months later and the envelopes started arriving in bright colors with enticing words printed on the outside. “Act now and save.” “This special won’t last long.” “VIP offer.” By this time I’d pretty much decided that I was over this mag and renewal was not in my future. I found myself lazily flipping the pages, barely interested in the contents. I knew I’d made the right decision when I tried “recycling” them to my neighbor and even she couldn’t muster enough enthusiasm to accept a free magazine.

And then it was crunch time; less than 4 months to go before my subscription ran out. Was I aware of this? If so, then why wasn’t I taking action? The envelopes turned red, literally, and the messages printed on the outside that were once so appealing started to take on a darker tone and contained at least one, if not more, of the following words: urgent, late, expire, terminate, last – you get the idea. I began to feel like a hunted woman; these people would not give up. I just wanted the whole thing to end. I didn’t even care if I got the last couple of issues still owed to me and I was afraid to go to the mailbox.

And then there was a light at the end of the tunnel; my husband handed me the mail and there was an envelope marked “Final Notice”. YEAH! On the same day I also received my last issue; I know this was my last issue because it arrived with a paper cover that was printed with the words “LAST ISSUE” on it. I get it. This is my last chance. They’re not going to stick around forever while I ignore them. They have more self-respect than that. Finally, the long year was over and we had finally broken up. I looked forward to digging into some good books.

And then, just like any good horror film, or the boyfriend that you can never really break up with, they were back. I received a brightly colored yellow envelope letting me know that as a courtesy they’ve extended my subscription for another 2 months, free of charge, because apparently they were concerned that perhaps I’d fallen, and couldn’t get up, and had missed the last 9 months’ renewal notices, and if I acted now I could take advantage of the very, very low – one time only – special renewal rate of…

10 Things I'd Like to Thank My Mother For

In a nod to the month of May in which we celebrate Mothers Day, here’s my own “Top 10 List” dedicated to my mother.

1. Handwritten thank you notes. From the time I could hold a crayon or a pencil, I was sat down at the kitchen table to write thank you notes for every gift I received. At the time I remember thinking what a colossal waste of a 10-year olds valuable time. Now that I’m in my 40’s and a trip to the mall (present), Hallmark store (card and wrapping paper), and post office (shipping) is only slightly more appealing than sticking a fork in my eye, I behold the wisdom of her ways. Three or four heartfelt, handwritten sentences in acknowledgment of such attention and effort is the LEAST anyone can do!

2. Chores. I did ‘em and I received a weekly allowance for them. I was not given money (as in "here's $20, go have fun); my parents weren’t an ATM (we didn’t even have them back then anyway). “You work, we pay, you don’t, we won’t” is how it went down, and I’m the better person for it.

3. Adult responsibilities at an early age. When I turned 16 my parents cosigned on a car loan; they could have bought me a car – they didn’t – they got me car payments instead. My mother took me to our local bank to open a checking account and get a credit card ($300 credit limit!!). I worked weekends to pay for the car, insurance, and gas. By the time I turned 20 I had work history and references to put on a resume, credit, a paid-off loan, 4 years solid record with a credit card, and I knew how to balance a checkbook and manage my money.

4. Stubbornness. My husband doesn’t really think a “thank you” is in order on this one, but I do. I come by my stubbornness honestly, and I’m referring to the “good stubborn”, not the bad (although I have both in spades). My mother is not one to let go, back down, or roll over and unless you want to be road kill on the highway of life, this is a good thing. It’s been said that when I sink my teeth into something, I’m like a “pit bull on a rump roast”, I will not let go – and sometimes I should. My mother’s recently figured that one out – sometimes you do need to just let go – so based on her timeline I can expect to attain that same level of wisdom in about 25 years.

5. Dogs are woman’s best friend. We always had dogs growing up and I still have fond memories of each and every one. My mother instilled in me the responsibility of pet ownership; it’s for life and obedience training is a must - obedient dogs are a joy to live with. Dogs give so much and ask for little in return, I can’t imagine my life without one.

6. The importance of family. Many years ago my father and I had a rift that kept us from speaking for a couple of months. I knew this was killing my mother, but she pretty much stayed out of the fray until one day, during the course of a regular phone conversation about something else, she stated that I needed to think about how long I wanted this to go on, and perhaps I should make the first move toward reconciliation (for my reaction to this suggestion see no. 4 above) because I only had one father, and he wouldn’t be here forever. Did I want to waste anymore time cutting him out of my life? My mother lost her mother at the age of 27, I can’t even fathom that today, such an early loss for her. I made the first move, we cleared the air between us, and we’ve never even strayed near such a scenario in the 20 years since.

7. Christmas cards. We’ve moved around a lot, and my parents make friends wherever they go, this resulted in a card distribution list that topped out at about 150 at one point in time and that point in time would be before computers and adhesive address labels. My mother hand wrote a note to each and every person, filling them in on the latest family news, where we were living, etc. Every envelope was hand addressed. It would take her weeks to complete the task, but so worth it; many of the recipients have since passed, but it meant so much to them that my mother stayed in touch throughout the years.

8. Mistakes are ok. I have a lot of practice on this one; love life, work, real estate – you name it – I made a mistake somewhere along the line. My mother never told me what to do, sometimes she’d question what I was doing, but she never exerted her authority. There was always the assumption, the expectation, that I’d get myself out of whatever I got myself into. Just that belief alone, knowing that someone else thinks you’ve got the stuff to get past whatever is bringing you down at the moment, sets you up for success. I did get myself out of everything I got myself into and I’m a smarter and stronger person because of every mistake I made. I regret nothing, I’m happy I made most of my missteps in my 20s because it’s allowed me to live a pretty contented life in my 30s and 40s.

9. Embracing the fact that she has “grand-dogs”. A few years ago, when single and living in New York, I rescued a shelter cat. The next Christmas I bought her a sweatshirt that read “Let me get this straight, my grandchild is a cat?” She got the joke, loved it, and proudly wore it. My mother never questioned my reasoning or decision to not have children. Now I have 3 dogs (and a different cat) and the graduation (obedience training), and birthday pictures that I send get shared with all her friends. When we adopted a new dog, a “birth announcement” of sorts went to her distribution list. My mother never made me feel guilty for not giving her grandchildren, and for that I can’t thank her enough.

10. The “mother-daughter weekend”. I can’t remember exactly when, or how, it started but it’s been going on for almost 20 years. There have been race weekends in Montreal and Milwaukee (we were like two star struck teenagers), historical trips to Charleston (where I ate my body weight in hush puppies) and D.C. (during the hottest summer on record) and an Audi Driving Challenge (you couldn’t wipe the smiles off our faces for 2 days) among other trips. A couple had to be cancelled (her motorcycle accident, my broken knee), but we’ve always picked back up the next year. We talk, laugh, and sometimes cry. I wouldn’t trade them for anything and hope that they continue for another 20 years.