What Is The Best Advice Your Dad Has Given To You

June 19, 2016

“My father gave me the greatest gift anyone could give another person, he believed in me.” – Jim Valvano

During Mother’s Day, I reached out to a handful of friends and asked them to contribute to my Blog. You can read that Here. The whole process was so enlightening and inspiring that I decided to do the same for Dads, but switch it up a bit.

On Friday, I shared This Post. It was a tribute to my own father. A man that I do not thank or appreciate enough. This morning I awoke, kissed my husband and told him “Happy Father’s Day,” opened Facebook and found out that one of my friends lost her husband last night. He a father, a great father, I witnessed him in action. My heart broke and the sudden heaviness on my chest seemed much more overwhelming as I sat and thought about his children who would awaken this morning without the earthly presence of their Dad. While I pray for them today and send positive thoughts out to the universe, I know so many of you too will read this Blog as a “fatherless child.”

I do not know your pain. I do not know the emptiness you feel. Whether it be a sudden loss, a father who has passed for many years, a father who is alive but you are estranged from, know that today while you pass the greeting card aisle, see a family out at breakfast, open Facebook to a flood of messages and pictures, know that I am thinking of you.

Those who are blessed to still have their Dad with them today, please call him, visit him or send him a text. Say “I love you,” say “I appreciate you” and please say “thank you.”

As a mother, I know the sacrifices and love I make for my child. Watching my husband with her, well the love and sacrifices he makes for our family is equally as tremendous. And, also as a parent, I finally feel like a fog is lifted from my eyes and I see just how much my parents have given through the years and how incredibly their love has been.

So today, Happy Father’s Day Friends and to my Blog contributors – Thank you.

I asked each friend below to answer the following:

“What is the best advice your Dad has given to you?”

The answers, well, you just have to read!

“When asked ‘What is the best advice your Dad has ever given you?’ I really didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t think of a time when my dad sat me down and said, ‘Here is some advice to live by.’ The more I thought about it, the more I realized that my dad has given me a lifetime of advice without saying a word. The whole, “actions speak louder than words” rings true. In my life, my dad has advised me to work hard for every single penny you have, that those same pennies mean nothing at the end of the day, to make good on your promises even when jumping ship feels like the easy way out, to be true to yourself and never apologize for that, to admit it when you are wrong, to always say you’re sorry, to never settle for ‘good enough,’ to always help those in need, and to laugh like heck every step of the journey. My Daddy has never had to give me any advice, I’ve always been blessed to watch his actions and simply know, this is how you live.” – Mallory

“My Dad gave advice by example. He would tell me to be kind, sensitive to others, generous and do what’s right. Of course, that’s how he lives his life. The best advice he gave my brother, ‘I don’t care if you want to dig ditches the rest of your life. Just be the best ditch digger you can be.’ And, I have to share two from my husband’s Dad, ‘Don’t ever get a financial advisor. If they know so much about money, they’d be retired.’ And, my favorite, on the occasion of our first date, ‘Just remember, pick your nose with your right hand and scratch your butt with your left.’ That man was a character.’ – Michaela

“My Dad and I are cut from the same cloth. The older I get, the more similarities I find. As you can see from the picture and our incredible sense of style, lol. My Dad is the most inspirational man on the planet. He dreams big, fights for what he believes in and never gives up. All while maintaining a big belly laugh that makes you feel at home every time you hear it. I call him the “Big Fish” because he reminds me so much of Dad from the movie, “The Big Fish.” The best advice he ever gave me, and there have been some gems, is that ‘Failure is not an option.’ Anytime I was afraid of making a leap of faith in life, love, or business he would just tell me to believe and that if I believe, I can’t fail, then anything is possible. He is 100% right. Anytime the “what if” worry trolls start to creep in I just repeat that phrase and know that I can overcome and find success. I love this man more everyday and feel honored to call him my Father, my mentor, and one of my best friends.” – Coty

“Okay, it was hard to choose what the best advice has been since all of his advice has helped to shape who I am but I’ll go with this. My Papa many times has said, ‘Live your life honestly, be true to those you love and always follow what it is that makes you who you are. (…and clean your room!).’ Ha! He’s our favorite storyteller, a forever friend, and our hero!” – Deanna

Look out there…
“My father was a large man. My mother referred to him as a ‘gentle giant.’ His large posture and huge hands had many young suitors of his daughter’s shaking in their shoes. I was the youngest of his five children and due to the large age gap from my closest sibling, quite possibly an “Oops!” I was; however, definitely daddy’s little girl. I remember my dad taking me kicking and screaming in his big, strong arms and walking me calmly into the Atlantic Ocean. He finally stopped waist deep and told me to stop crying and ‘look out there.’ I did and it was amazing. A few years later he took me on a Ferris Wheel. Once again, I was screaming because we were stuck at the top. He giggled softly and told me to take my hands away from my face and ‘look out there.’ I did and it was awesome. Fast forward to my teens and my father was teaching me to drive. Half way through the stressful lesson when all I did was stare at the road, he placed his hand on my shoulder and told me to ‘look out there.’ I did and it was easier. I didn’t realize it at the time but my father didn’t want me to live my life with my head down. He didn’t want me to be too scared, too serious or too focused. He wanted me to stop worrying and enjoy the people, places and experiences around me no matter how big or small. I still struggle to follow his advice in my busy life. I do find that I have missed a lot because I didn’t ‘look out there.’ But I will be forever grateful that he told me to ‘look out there’ and I hope I can pass this advice on to my children.” – Joy

“My Dad was an amazing, amazing man. I know many people will say this today, especially since its Father’s Day and I’m sure they mean it also, but anyone who knew my Dad will tell you this is absolutely true. I don’t know of one person that did not like him nor do I know of anyone that he disliked. I never heard him speak a harsh word about anyone. In my entire life I never saw him mad or angry. I don’t know of any other person I can say that about. He was so kind and compassionate. He chose to talk about the good in people. He had patience beyond words. He was never to busy for you. He gave you his undivided attention. I’ll tell you a little story about this. My Dad use to work on his vehicles in his garage. A little neighborhood boy whose father had died would come down to his house and for hours would lay on the ground with my Dad under his car asking questions. ‘What’s this? What’s that? What does this do? What does that do?’ On, and on. My Dad explained everything in great detail to him. My Mom would say to my Dad, ‘How can you stand that day after day? All those same questions?’ My Dad would reply, ‘It’s ok, Honey, he just needs someone to talk to. He’s just lonely.’ My Dad was a very funny guy also. He loved to play jokes on people. He loved to scare the living day lights out of you. I can still hear his laugh. He was a huge Washington Redskins fan. He loved picnics, amusement parks and especially riding the roller coasters. He loved going camping with his kids and grandkids. Sometimes spending the entire summer at the river with his family. Christmas was his favorite holiday. He was like a sorcerer working his magic. When we were kids the tree was never brought into the house until we were all in bed on Christmas Eve. By morning it looked like a mystical, magical farmland. The tree decorated from top to bottom and a Christmas yard under the tree that was so detailed it looked like a live village. There were houses, churches, stores and roads made from coal dust. A train that ran on a track (THIS ONE IS FOR YOU, ASHLI) a mirror for a pond. Still to this day, I don’t know how he got it all done in one night. He was a Veteran. He served in the Army during World War II. He was loyal. He kept the same friends he served in the war with his entire life. He was a honest, hard working man that never missed a day of work. He was a Christian and he put God and his family above everything. His parenting skills surpass all others. He taught us to love unconditionally and we learned this by following his example. Oh! By the way, he always smelled so good! I still have a bottle of his after shave lotion. Sometimes I open it up and just breath the scent of him in and at that moment I know he’s right here beside me. The one thing he taught me, and I learned this by his example, was to love unconditionally. I hope I have passed this down to my kids and grandkids. There is a song that says, “I’d like to teach the world to sing in perfect harmony.” If this was my Dad’s song, it would say “I’d like to teach the world to love in perfect harmony.” HAPPY FATHERS DAY DADDY! Love you!” – Pat (my Meema)
How beautiful? Again, thank you to my special Blog contributors. Much love to you! And, to you all, no matter where your heart feels today, I send you virtual hugs and love.

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How The World’s Quietest Man, Taught Me The World’s Loudest Lessons

June 17, 2016

Father’s Day weekend is here and I thought it would be fitting to carve out some time and some space on the internet to honor my Dad. Although, it is kind of funny though, as my Dad really deep down despises the internet and social media because he can’t stand walking into a room and seeing his family, with their ‘noses all in their phones and faces down.’ As a marketing professional with a strong grasp on all things social media and digitally related, he still to this day, eight years into my career, cannot fully understand what I do or how it impacts business.

I have had countless conversations on what Twitter is versus Facebook and the definition of a ‘Tweet’ and how it all works. He knows I have this Blog but cannot fully grasp what a ‘Blog’ is or why I would ever spend my free time doing this. He has questioned why we (as in his family) are so obsessed with our phones, and then when I say, ‘This is the way the world now communicates with each other and businesses.” He scowls and explains, “Well, I don’t.”

It is ultimately funny that I sit here writing about communication when my father is a man of very little words. Let me repeat for you, very little words.

Growing up we knew no different, but I would be remiss if I didn’t share how I realized in elementary school just how little he spoke, when I would have sleepovers at friends’ houses. One girlfriend had a Dad who was always the life of our get-together. You knew it was her birthday party each year, as he would march through the house starting a Kongo line and yelling for us each to join in. Another friend’s Dad was such an integral part of her life, that he was the one we called in High School to pick us up outside dances and parties, and when we pilled in the car he would entertain and crack us up the whole way home.

My father was different.

We picked on him, and still do for his lack of words. With that said, I never questioned his love for me or involvement, because he showed his emotions through other means. When I would want to sit for hours with my Mom rehashing every detail of a major accomplishment, all I needed from Dad, was eye contact and a quick ‘proud of you’ and I was content. He attended every major high school football, soccer and basketball game… to watch me cheer on the sidelines. He made me learn to drive a stick shift and as I whined and pouted, “I cannot do this.” He gritted his teeth and yelled back, “Yes, you can.” Then on my 17th birthday, he woke me up extra early and said, ‘Let’s practice driving a manual again.” Only to lead me, from the passenger seat, to a local car dealership to test drive an automatic. Then as we pulled back in the dealership, he simply stated “Happy Birthday, Ashli.”

When I graduated from High School, I rushed around like an idiot trying to get ready for the big night so I could go meet my friends for a pre-ceremony celebration. As he tried to stop me multiple times in our home, I was too selfish to give the man who said so little any time of day. Then he slipped a piece of paper in my hand, and as I waited for my friends in a grocery store parking lot I cried like a baby at the hand written note he had given me, praising me and expressing his love.

My Dad had placed emphasis on me to be an architect, something to this day, I still regret not doing. Buying into his urging, we agreed I would attend the local college for one year and then transfer to the state university for Architectural school. When I fell in love with theater my freshman year of college, I unveiled my new plans to my Dad, on the stage of a state Beauty Pageant competition. As he sat in the crowd watching me, with a big button of my face, attached to his shirt, the announcer read the pre-submitted cue cards, in which mine stated, “A theatre major.” Shortly, after defeat and facing my father in the hotel hallway, he hugged me, kissed my forward, told me I should have won and quietly said, “theatre, huh?”

Then, when I fell in love and soon my wedding day starred us both in the face, he stayed in the background for pre-planning. Shining as the unsung hero who somehow was able to arrange a seating chart to accompany 175 people in a tiny red barn. As we lined up for the procession, and the violinist played softly in the background, I knew he sensed that I felt a bit faint and suddenly incoherent. I remember distinctly my father saying to the nearest bridesmaid, “Get her a glass of wine.” As, the bridal party walked out of the house and through the field to our wedding guests, we stayed back a moment longer. I sipped the wine and starred my father in the eyes. Little words. But a private moment I will always cherish.

I remember not to long ago someone said, “Your Dad does not speak much, but when he does, we all listen.”

I agreed, but while I always listened, I didn’t always appreciate. For that, I am sorry, Dad. But as I near 30 years old in August (Yikes!), I finally, finally do. My Dad has taught me the following about life.

America was built by hard working individuals, who made a lot of sacrifices in life for the betterment of others. Respect that and them, and more importantly honor that, by in turn giving your all every single day, always working hard.
Save your money! Gosh, I remember thinking I hated him for this. After ever birthday party, “Ebenezer Scrooge” would make a grand appearance, with a palm open. I would have to hand over any money I received as a gift and he would count it in front of me. Then promptly hand me back half. He would explain that the other half would go into my savings account he opened and would in turn be mine when I turned 18 years old. I remember crying. Screaming, “These are birthday gifts. You want the half of my Barbie too!” He really never argued back, more just walked away, but not without hearing me scream, “This is not fair!” (By the way, he kept his word, and at 18 years old, I received access to my account.) I miraculous, loved my father again!
Speaking of fair. He taught me just that… life is not and will never be fair. Learn it and accept it.
Sacrifice. With five kids, I sometimes to this day get mad at him for working so hard and sacrificing so much, and feel saddened that he truly doesn’t live. But, I am starting to believe that to him living means watching his five kids enjoy life and be happy.
Contribute to a 401k. Even if you make little to nothing and you think you need every dollar. Put something away for retirement.
That the best things in life are sweets! You can totally eat 12 cookies, a large piece of cake and a slice of pie in one seating! He does it all the time.
You can always get by in life with far less than you currently have.
You always, always have a choice in life. This was a recent, new, tough lesson from him. As tears rolled down my face over some tough decisions, he coldly told me, “You are not allowed to cry in front of me over this.” You are in control here. You have a choice.
Sometimes it is best to remain quiet. 🙂 That not everything needs your opinion.
And, finally his favorite line – “Accept what you can not change, change what you can not accept, and have the wisdom to know the difference.”

Powerful lessons from the man who would nod his head at the game scoring touchdown, vs leap off his stadium seat screaming. A man who bites his nail and mumbles a chuckle, while the rest of a room erupts in laughter over comic relief. A man who subtly tells you, “Drop the p,” when you hand him a card with “Grandpap” written on the front, to announce how he wants his first grandchild to address him.

You, see I grew up through this life with a man who spoke few words… but generated loud messages, loud lessons. It wasn’t until I became an adult and maybe even a parent that the weight of his quiet presence, all through my life, has been felt.

Thank you, Dad. Thank you for big lessons, tough love and your steady presence through my life. And, Happy Father’s Day!

This Little Gem I Cherish

May 6, 2015

I break out this picture every May 6th and here is why.

As us girls gathered for pictures before my wedding ceremony, my photographer took some solo shoots of me. Laughing on cue is not my forte.I mean whose is it? So, we enlisted the help of none other than my Uncle Barry. He stood behind our photographer, Katie, and was able to get a genuine laugh out of me, helping her secure a shot. As I type this I feel like I sound like a four-year old at Sears getting photos with someone squeaking a toy in the background for a good laugh.

I digress.

Uncle Barry stated to Katie, “Now if you are really good, you will capture a photo of TR (that’s my Dad!) smiling.” She gave him an odd look and I am sure she thought to herself, “Why would I not? It is his daughter’s wedding day?” But, she did not yet know TR.

Here is the thing, my Dad is a stoic guy. He is a man of few words. Always has been. Never once did I take his seriousness in life well, seriously! In fact, we took his seriousness in stride and knew no different because that is who he was. I think it never really dawned us either because we grew up in a home filled with love and support. Our Dad, alongside our Mom, was and is our #1 fan. Now don’t take this wrong but we never equated his quiet personality with his happiness. So, don’t let all his seriousness fool you, because behind that furrowed brow, is a big heart. A really, really big heart! And, here is the thing… TR can be quite funny! My favorite is his ability to seize the awkward moments with strangers by making an absurd joke which as a teenager mortified me, but now as an adult I giggle at the exchange. He also gets a kick out of his kids for some reason. We just must be a bunch of comedians or something, because he actually fights back his control to laugh at us. Leading us to say, “Oh, come on don’t smile or anything.” To which he will typically excuse himself and chuckle as he walks out of the room.

We have this joke among our family about my Dad. We say if he smiles that is equivalent to a chuckle. If he makes a sound when he smiles, that is equivalent to your belly laugh and if he actually laughs out loud, well ladies and gentlemen, you just peed your pants in laughter.

Katie, proved her photography skills on my wedding day. It was like Barry put her up to a challenge she had to fulfill. I can just imagine her looking through the lens, waiting for a smile. She actually captured quite a few, because that day my Dad beamed a bit. Basically, we all peed our pants with laughter all day long if you equate it to our joke above.

It was my father’s idea to surprise our wedding guests with a choreographed dance. As our father-daughter dance to Tim McGraw’s “My Little Girl” started to wrap, the music cut into Sweet’s “Ballroom Blitz.” An odd choice of song but a song that was our song as I recall many moments we would blare the speakers in the car and sing along. We rocked and rolled and danced a bit as our wedding guests cheered, clapped, squealed in laughter or were wide-eyed and shocked, like my Mom, as they watched this quiet man turn into an extrovert for a minute.

So, my wedding guests, who truly know my Dad, got the surprise of a lifetime with our surprise breakout dance, our photography got that smile and I got this little gem to always cherish.

Happy Birthday to my Dad! While you often get picked on for being a man of few words and smiles, we know you reserve them for us and the best part is you give us so much love, support and gratefulness that we do all the smiling for you.

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Dear Ol’ Dad…

May 6, 2014

I am sure we could all argue right now… but I don’t want to fight. But if I chose to go down that road with you I am sure the conversation would go something like this…

Me: “I have the best Dad!”
You: “So, do I.”
Me: “I know, but mine is really special.”
You: “Well, so is mine.”
Me: “I know, but I really think mine is the best of all bests.”
You: cricket cricket – blank stare – mentally you are thinking “Is she 5? Are we really going there?”

The point is for many, your Dad is the best of all bests. And, rightfully so. I mean he is your Dad. And how special is that? That we each have this special someone that we call our own and love through and through. He is the best and you couldn’t imagine anyone better to fill the shoes of the man you call “Dad.”

Well, that is how I feel and today is that special man’s birthday.

My Dad is a quiet guy. A man of few words. He doesn’t like attention. In fact, our family teases him on his seriousness. If he cracks a smile, well that is equivalent to your and my chuckle and if he chuckles, well boys and girls we just peed our pants with laughter. With all that seriousness comes respect. When he talks you listen.

But for me and my four siblings, we all know a different side to our Dad. There is a humorous and witty side that few see. For a man who is so quiet, I believe he fights uncomfortableness with goofy humor. And, I cannot tell you how many times he has made us children put our hands together and yell out the “rally cry” which he created and sort of sounds like a dying Falcon, just in case we ever get separated.

He is extremely difficult at times. So, set in his ways. If you didn’t know him well, like we do, he can be hard to read. He is meticulous in the manner in which he does certain things and by golly he is not a fan of you wasting money. So, don’t brag about something you bought because you wanted it.

But for his family, we know that he is extremely giving, caring and kind. Being the oldest of five kids, which range from 27 – 11, I have watched him and my Mom make sacrifices over the years so each one of us in due time could have a car and go to college. And, I have seen him light up when he has spent more than he would ever allow us to in order to buy one of us something we wanted.

I have learned from my Dad that – life is not fair, you are not entitled to anything and that the best people in this world are the ones who get up, work hard and do it all over again. I have also learned that family comes first and if ever you need someone to be honest with you – Dear Ol’ Dad will be there. Whether it is what you want to hear or what you know you will hear but wish you hadn’t. The brutal honesty that comes from our parents, well it comes from a lot of love.

As, I get older I look at my Dad differently. He is my Dad yes, but also a great friend. When I watch him with the baby of our family, Liv, or as Dad likes to call her “Sugar Bear.” Well, my heart swells as I watch him and her interact and see their relationship change through the years like ours.

Happy Birthday, Dad! Oh, and there is that smile, or for all of us a nice chuckle…