Lessons

My father and I never had a close relationship. I was the first son and I can’t help but feel that he was a little disappointed in my “version” of being a son. I was kind of quiet, a little shy, liked to play with dolls, you know, that kind of son. I wasn’t necessarily a “mama’s boy” although I was a bit of a “grandma’s boy.” As she put it “I was particular” – always liking things a certain way…my way. And because father also liked things a certain way – HIS WAY – we were bound to butt heads. Despite that, I can truly say that I did learn from my father, but not in the traditional way. In fact, the greatest things I ever learned from my father are the lessons he never taught me. Because we did not see eye to eye a lot of the time it made my father’s official teaching of things and my official learning of things not terribly easy…in fact they didn’t happen at all.

But as I got older and took stock of my life I began to see that the things that were important to me and my life were really some of the same things that were important to him. These are things he never taught me. These are things I learned from him by his doing and my observing. These things are: appreciation of music, integrity of hard work, and the importance of family

My father was an accomplished musician. He never ever had to say he was but we knew because whenever we went to listen to him play people would always tell me. And not just people who came to listen and dance but more importantly his peers. They respected my father for the way he played his music – with talent and passion. Father loved polish music. He (and therefore we because he controlled the kitchen radio) listened to polka radio programs every Sunday. But whether it was in the kitchen while we ate our Sunday lunch as a family or in the car on the way to some event, if there was a polka radio show on – we listened. Every now and again father would point out someone’s good playing but not in a preachy way; it was more like with appreciation. You could tell if he really liked the music if he tapped out the beat on the steering wheel or thumped the dashboard on the parts that were really good. It was great to see that side of him that wasn’t seen a lot; or at least not by me. That side of him really enjoying himself. So I would listen more closely at the times when he was so interested in the music to see if I could hear what he was hearing. What was so good about that part versus another? I was honing my musical ear without even knowing it. And while I’m not a musician I do have a great appreciation of and for all kinds of music. Last March I saw a Broadway show in New York and during the overture the horn player sounded really amazing at this one part and I was just like – THAT WAS AMAZING! And clapped and gave a hoot. And as I looked around it was like I was the only one who heard it. I thought: “Did these people not just hear how awesome that was?” Oddly, I briefly thought of my father at that moment…at a Broadway musical I thought of my polish accordion playing father. I really did. I thought: “I’ll bet father would have really liked that. part.”

I didn’t truly understand the concept of the term “work ethic” until I moved to California. Since moving to California I’ve said that the people there come off as dumb and lazy. It’s like no one wants to work. Therefore in comparison to Chicago I simply concluded that people from the Midwest are raised with, let’s just say, a certain work ethic. We just are. But as I thought about that a little bit more I realized where my work ethic really came from. Father was musician on the weekends but he had a day job. Not a white collar job – a blue collar job. No fancy office for my father. And as I’m typing this I’m just smiling at the thought of my father and his personality in a white collar/office job. You see, my father was a bit of an Archie Bunker with regard to the way he thought about life as well as the way he talked openly about it and his opinions on it. “If you don’t like it,” he’d say, “don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out.” So father worked in a steel mill his entire life and during most of that time he worked outdoors. He got up very early every day. It wasn’t until I worked at the Board of Trade after college that I experienced just how early. Because I had to be downtown by the time the markets opened in New York I was up pretty early. Well father was already pulling out of the driveway when my alarm was going off. He was off to put a full day in at a steel mill. It didn’t matter if it was snowing or raining or 100 degree. He went. He got up everyday and went. I can’t even begin to imagine what that work life was like but he did it. I will always respect him for that. Among the many things I remember my father saying was that things that come easy aren’t worth it; that you have to work hard to achieve good things. To this day I usually take a moment when something I’m working on is coming “too easy” to wonder if I should be doing anything additional to accomplish the goal. Related to this, a friend of mine once asked me why I work so hard in ballet class. He’s like: “It’s not like you’re auditioning to be in a company or anything,” And I responded without skipping a beat: “Nothing is worth having if you don’t have to work for it.” I heard that and thought “Ok father, how did you sneak into my head.”

Family was such a big part of my growing up because it was a huge part of my father’s life. For so many years it seemed as though once April rolled around there would be at least one Communion party or grade school or high school graduation to attend of some cousin or another. And then there were the weddings. I can remember summers being big for weddings. And we always went. We always went and we always danced. In fact, that’s where my love of dance has its humble beginnings. And the weddings always seemed to be from my father’s side of the family. It was and is a big family. I remember seeing my father among his “people” and thinking that my father is friends with his cousins, his family. Like real friends. Like the friends you make in school or at the office. They ran around together as kids and were still close as adults. I loved that, the idea of that continuity in relationships. As a single man I don’t have a biological family of my own as my siblings do. I am blessed to have them and my mother and I love them but I don’t have any children of my own…at least yet or that I know of. In any event, I do, however, have a family of friends. Some friends I’ve had since grade school, some since high school and some from my adult life. Some of these relationships span 10-20 + years. I treat them all like family. They are family. I know the importance of keeping people close throughout the years. I have observed that it “works” first hand. You’re there for them and they’re there for you. That’s how my father felt about his family. And it’s also a lesson that was reinforced by my gram, my father’s mother. She would always say how important it is to keep your family close and always be there for them. I remember her getting very upset if my brother and I would fight and she would say: “You’ll need your brother one day. Look at your father and his brother. They’re there for each other all the time. It doesn’t matter what.” And they were. I try to emulate that trait within my family of friends. And it is because of my father.

How does a person go through a good part of his life thinking he didn’t learn anything from his father? Maybe by not taking time to reflect or by not remembering or by not being able to put any disagreements of the past aside and just looking at his father as a man. Thankfully I was able to get passed all that and I know now that without his ever realizing it, my father managed to teach me a thing or two; whether I liked it or not.