My Dad

Have you met my dad?

If you haven't, it's too bad (for you).  If you have, you understand why it's too bad for the people who haven't met him.

My dad is the nicest guy on the face of the earth.  I am not exaggerating.  Someone has to be the nicest person on the planet, and I speak without hesitation when I say that my dad is that someone.  If you know my dad, you are in complete agreement with me, right?  If you don't know him, let me fill you in.

His nickname is St. Donald.  We joke that he sometimes has a halo.  He will drive you to the airport at ungodly hours of the morning and not talk about you behind your back afterwards.  He will always, always try to pay for any meal you eat out together (I have resorted to excusing myself and pretending that I need to use the restroom in order to covertly give my credit card to the waitress before my dad can get his hands on the bill).  He will rearrange his schedule to do you a tiny favor.  I don't think the word "resentment" is in his vocabulary.  He truly enjoys doing things for people in a way in which I have never seen anyone else even come close.

My dad is the guy you're talking about when you say things like, "He'd give you the shirt off of his back."  He literally would give someone he doesn't know the shirt off of his back if he thought the person needed it.  At the risk of sounding repetitive, I am not exaggerating.  There are people who say they would do such things, and there are people who do such things.  He's a doer, not a sayer.

When I was in high school, my dad sold his car (and while it may have had grass growing from small patches on the roof, it was in working condition, I assure you) to a man for $1 because the man desperately needed a car and couldn't afford one.  I don't think my dad ever told anyone outside of our family about it.  He's not the kind of guy who needs to trumpet his goodness to others.  Because he doesn't do it for any reason other than it's the right thing to do.

My dad did his student teaching in Harlem.  At a junior high school.  By his own request.  In the 1960's.  Successfully.  He tells a great story about teaching a science lesson on sound to a rambunctious group of middle-schoolers.  The next day one of his students brought in an actual pay phone, ripped from its former home, to see if my dad could do the same lesson with real-life equipment.  The point of the story not being that the kid ripped out a pay phone, but rather that he was interested enough in the lesson to bring it in to class and ask my dad to demonstrate the lesson again.  A lot of teachers would automatically focus on the (possible) crime scenario of the situation.  My dad, at least the way I hear him tell the story over fifty years later, saw a kid who had his curiosity piqued.

He's a "don't dwell on adversity--try to do something to overcome it" kind of guy.  When things are not ideal, he's not a complainer.  Never has been as long as I can remember.  If something's not right, he tries to find a solution.  If there's no solution to be found, he'll simply make the best of it until the situation changes.  Case in point (and this story is now the stuff of legend and lore in our family):

We were traveling on the east coast during the summer.  All five of us: my parents, my older brother and myself (both old enough to be snarky), and my younger brother (young enough to be adorably innocent).  We were on our way, as I recall, to my grandmother's house on the Jersey shore.  We were driving there from somewhere... I can't remember where.  I do remember, however, that our journey involved getting our car onto the Cape May Ferry to get across what I'm guessing was maybe the Chesapeake Bay (I could be wrong about that geographical detail, but it doesn't really matter in terms of where this story is going).  So there we are, mid-July, hanging out in Cape May, New Jersey, waiting for the ferry boat.  It was hot.  Really hot.  New Jersey-in-the-summer hot.  And humid.  Really humid.  Us kids were not exactly the model of patience or fortitude.  We were uncomfortable and we were not trying to hide it.  We were absolutely dwelling on adversity and not trying to do anything to overcome it.  And we most certainly were not making the best of it in absence of any impending changes to the situation.

My dad, on the other hand, was trying his hardest to make the best of the situation, which in this case meant trying for mind over matter.  So he has us close our eyes.  And he tells us to imagine it's very cold, like in the Arctic.  There's wind blowing.  Polar bears are nearby.  We are chilly it's so cold.  I'm paraphrasing, but you get the idea.

I mean, he's trying so hard.  He's really giving it an honest-to-god go of it.  And while it was not working in the least on my older brother and myself (or my mom, but she's trying to play along), my little brother is picturing everything my dad is saying, creating this winter wonderland in his mind, and  my little brother pipes in with, "And an eagle,  CAW, CAW," and he probably was flapping his arms like wings (maybe not, but that's kind of how I remember it).

While the heat did not go away that afternoon, my dad managed to make it disappear, momentarily, for at least one like-minded believer who was willing to suspend a little over-heated reality for a few minutes of Arctic bliss, given the chance.

The End

Of that story.  But there are so many more great stories about my dad.  Honestly, every single story I can think of exemplifies my dad's patience (with perhaps one exception, but my older brother and I really drove my dad to the brink of sanity in that one exception, so I really can't say I blame him for losing it that one time) and/or his belief that given the chance, you always try to do the right thing, no matter how hard that might be.

And maybe one of the things that sets my dad apart is that he is more willing than most to not just recognize the chance, but happily go looking for it.

He's a guy who lives his core values quietly, humbly, and with conviction.

I'm so proud of all of the multitude of things my dad has accomplished in his life--is still accomplishing to this day--that positively impact so many people, from our family to the families of children he and my mom sponsored for decades.  I think the thing that would make my dad the most proud (and he's probably the least prideful person I know) is that the examples that he and my mom set throughout their lives are being continued by their children and passed down to their grandchildren.  My brothers and I and our spouses decided a few years ago that, being more than fortunate, rather than give each other Christmas gifts each year we would donate the money we would have used to buy gifts to a charity.  After passing a homeless young man on a corner, my daughter asked if we could please go back and give him something to help him and his family. My nephew couldn't think of anything he wanted for Christmas (he's a high school freshman), so he asked for a donation to be made to a charity.

That's a legacy worthy of mention, even if my dad would never mention it himself.