One of my dad’s favorite stories was how he got his job with the phone company. According to him, he went in one day and filled out an application, and then returned the next day to inquire on its status. “Nothing today, Max,” he was told. “Thank you very much,” he politely replied. He then returned the next day. “Sorry, we’re not hiring right now,” he was told. “Thank you very much,” he politely replied. He came back the next day. And the next. And the next. This went on for nearly a month. Each time he was told, in one form or another, there was nothing available. And each time he politely said “Thank you very much,” and went on his way.
One day, the manager was in the vicinity when my dad made his daily visit. As my dad was leaving after being rejected again, the man called him over. He said, “Are you the guy that’s been coming in here every day for a month asking about a job?” “Yes sir,” my dad replied. “You start Monday,” the man said.
Within that story lies one of the many lessons he taught my three brothers and I about how to make it in this world. It was his way of telling us that many times it’s the person who wants it the most that finds success and that hard work and perseverance can often trump raw ability.
What made this and other lessons resonate with me is that my dad demonstrated them in his life on an everyday basis. He was “Lead by Example” and “Do the Right Thing” well before they became corporate mantras. One time at McDonalds the lady gave us back way too much change and my dad promptly returned it. I was probably six years old at the time but I knew what was transpiring and that lesson still impacts me today. And there was also the time he came home one Christmas Eve with a young soldier from out of town he found sitting on a park bench waiting for his train, which wasn’t coming for several hours.
“Honey, set an extra place for dinner,” he told my mom.
My dad worked 33 years with the phone company, retired, and then went to work on the graveyard shift cleaning kitchens for five years at a local resort hotel, never once calling in sick. He worked long enough to see me, his youngest of four boys, leave home and go off to college. After that he took six months off, and then, for the next six years, he helped my mom clean some millionaire’s house every week. In all that time, I never heard him once complain.
That’s the kind of guy my dad was. He wasn’t one to talk your ear off, but he spoke through his actions. By merely watching him, I learned to work hard, be honest and respectful, treat people well, and help out when you can. I also learned to love sports. Some of my favorite memories with my dad revolve around sports. Every year when baseball tickets went on sale we’d drive the 20 miles to the closest Ticketron location. We’d survey the Angels’ schedule and pick out a game close to my birthday in July and that would be our annual pilgrimage to the ballpark. On Sundays during football season, he and I would gather around the television and watch the two NFL games that were being shown that day. Good times.
And even though I wasn’t very good at playing them, my dad was always my biggest fan. To him, it was always about the effort, not the results. As such, he made sure I practiced hard, played hard, and gave it my all. And he was right there for every game, shouting encouragement.
It was an emotional roller coaster for me these past two weeks. First, my brother gets married, and then my dad goes in the hospital the next day. Two days later my wife goes into labor, but then they have to do an emergency c-section. While my daughter, Estelle Marie, is making her entrance into the world, my dad is in another hospital 60 miles away preparing to exit it.
I got to say goodbye to my dad the night before he passed, as did my mom, my three older brothers and my best friend Jerry, whom I’ve known for 28 years. In addition to thanking him for everything he did for me, I told my dad the thing I looked forward to the most was trying to teach my
