My Father

My father was a hard working guy. During his working life he was out of the house before 6 AM and returned late in the afternoon. Until I was 11 he was the owner of a working man's eatery near the Brooklyn Navy Yard. After that business suffered a fire in 1966 he went into the wholesale foods business driving a truck and making deliveries to small businesses in the Park Slope and Sunset Park neighborhoods of Brooklyn. We would tease him about how he would fall asleep after dinner while reading the newspaper.

Sometimes I think that I work harder than him. Certainly, I seem to spend more hours at my job. It's probably not a fair comparison. His job was very physical and being the owner of both businesses must have been a stressful place to be. In the years before he died I would ask him about work. If he hated it, if he wanted to just chuck it sometimes, if he ever really wanted to do something else. He had been retired from full time work for many years at that point but he seemed to have no regrets. I don't recall him ever grumbling about it either while I was growing up.

I think that my children will have a different impression of me. I express my frustrations with work and bring a lot of it home with me. It probably doesn't help that what I do and what's important at the office is incomprehensible to them. I can only hope, though, that I am setting a good example of responsibility, ethical behavior, and finding joy in whatever career they end up in.