Growing up, I remember that in every interaction with a stranger, Dad strove to be his jovial self. I just assumed it was always like that: that every customer tried to bring a smile to the face of the cashier, the waitress, the guy selling fishing licenses, whoever, whenever. Even if Dad knew that he’d probably never see this person again, he still treated them the same way: with an amazing amount of politeness, kindness, and happiness.
Having since gone into the hospitality business, I later understood not only how great Dad was, but how rare. The vast majority of customers are assholes, acting like they’re entitled to something, or that you’re in their way. Dealing with customers day in and day out made me even more appreciative of how Dad treated strangers. Every time I walk into someone else’s place of business, I want to be their best customer, the guy they love seeing walk in the door, the one who’s full of fun and kindness.
As kindly as he treated strangers, the way he treated employees was even better. I worked around him for a couple of summers at the family restaurant and witnessed the loyalty he brought out in employees. Everybody from the cooks to the busboys would say to me, “Your Dad’s a great boss, and he’s a really good guy.” They always said it when nobody else was around, and they would say it with this solemnity, trying to convey just how much they believed it. “No, really,” they’d say, “he really is. He’s great.” I didn’t understand how he managed people because I didn’t interact with him enough in that scenario.
Having since gone into management, I now understand how difficult it is to be a good leader. Every summer, I wish the family restaurant was still around, because I’d love nothing more than to spend a season with him running the place. I’m pretty patient, but trying to inspire the kind of work environment that he did takes all of the patience I have.
As good as he treated employees, he made even the most distant friends feel like a part of his closest family. People call and drop by Dad & Caryl’s house all the time, left and right, and love to stand around the kitchen and talk. It’s a welcoming house that makes everybody feel welcome at all times. And when they leave the house, it seems like we can’t go anywhere without somebody waving at Dad and coming over to catch up with him. In a small town like Whitehall, people remember the smallest things and hold them against you as grudges, but everybody just seems to love Dad.
Now that I’m a grownup, in a house of my own in a town of my own, I see how hard it is to be a good friend. Being a good friend requires dedication, understanding, compromise, and an amazing amount of political skill. You can’t be passive, stand on the sidelines, and end up with a good circle of friends, much less a crowd. I have a lot of work to do on this, and Dad’s active style of meeting people, getting to know them, and staying by them inspires me to be the best kind of friend I can be.
As spectacularly as he treats friends, the way he treats family is beyond words. Over the last couple of decades, I have gotten into some strange situations. Dad has never been judgemental, never been anything but supportive, and has never failed to help. Whether it took words, deeds, or just a shoulder, Dad was there. He didn’t say what I wanted to hear, but told me what I needed to know. He gave me the kinds of tools I needed in order to thrive. Whether I’ve been on a low point or a high one, Dad has always been able to keep me grounded and tell me what I need to know to get to the next level.
I chuckle at the parenting books I see in bookstores. Parenting books teach you how to change diapers, but not how to set a good example by treating the Sam’s Club cashier with dignity, respect, and humor. Parenting books don’t show you how to make friends and family stop by the house all the time with food and drink. Parenting books don’t inspire your coworkers to sit your kids down and say, “Your father is the greatest guy around.” Parenting books aren’t going to change the basic essentials of your personality - if you’re a jerk, guess what? Your kids will be jerks.
My father is my role model for how I treat strangers, my coworkers, my friends, and my family. I work hard every day to emulate what he’s done. Part of me wishes I could live in Michigan just so people would understand that everything he does rubbed off on me in the best of ways. He’ll probably never see this in action with me living down in Texas, but Dad, know that you have been an incredible role model.
I love you, Dad.
Brent
