DAD
My dad was one of the wisest, most compassionate and giving men I've ever known. Although not a man of great means, he endowed many lives with his encouragement, strength and hope. But then, Dad didn't preach, he just did.
One chilly fall evening in the late 1950's, Dad drove my visiting uncle across the Hudson River to the train station in Albany , NY for his return home.
I didn't go with them because I was busy getting my diaper changed. As Dad said goodbye to my uncle, a bum approached him (yes, that's what panhandling, homeless men were called back then). The man was disheveled, with
stubble beard and an ill fitting, dirty overcoat.
"Can you spare some change, bud?" Dad didn't need his PhD in organic chemistry to determine from the man's odor what that change would be purchasing. "No," he responded, "I won't give you any money, but I'll gladly buy you a
sandwich and coffee." As the two men sat in the snack bar nearby and talked, Dad asked, "So, do you have any family?"
"Yea, I got a brother in Boston ."
"Really, tell me about him."
"He's a priest. So what?"
"A priest, what church is he with and what's his name?"
After paying the bill and bidding the man farewell, Dad returned home armed with answers to those and a few more questions.He then looked up the church in Boston and called long distance. Back when "long distance calling"
took more than small pocket change.Dad gave the priest all the information he could about his brother.
A couple weeks later, Dad received a heartfelt, grateful letter from the man's sister thanking him for his saintly intervention. "
Because of what you did," the letter said, "we have been reconnected with our brother from whom we had not heard in a long time. Thank you."
I have no idea what happened after that, but because Dad gave without expecting any repayment, one family had a real chance to heal.
My uncle who got the ride to the train station shared this story with me a few years back. But when I asked Dad about it he responded, "Kevin, I don't recall it."Dad just gave expecting nothing in return. Because that's just
who he was. He taught me again; in hindsight, that true giving is not a transaction. But, if given freely, one receives in return riches that money cannot buy.
Dad is no longer here in body. But in spirit, yes. When I reflect on this lesson occasionally, I look up and whisper, "Dad, I hope I can remember now."
-Unknown Author.
My dad was one of the wisest, most compassionate and giving men I've ever known. Although not a man of great means, he endowed many lives with his encouragement, strength and hope. But then, Dad didn't preach, he just did.
One chilly fall evening in the late 1950's, Dad drove my visiting uncle across the Hudson River to the train station in Albany , NY for his return home.
I didn't go with them because I was busy getting my diaper changed. As Dad said goodbye to my uncle, a bum approached him (yes, that's what panhandling, homeless men were called back then). The man was disheveled, with
stubble beard and an ill fitting, dirty overcoat.
"Can you spare some change, bud?" Dad didn't need his PhD in organic chemistry to determine from the man's odor what that change would be purchasing. "No," he responded, "I won't give you any money, but I'll gladly buy you a
sandwich and coffee." As the two men sat in the snack bar nearby and talked, Dad asked, "So, do you have any family?"
"Yea, I got a brother in Boston ."
"Really, tell me about him."
"He's a priest. So what?"
"A priest, what church is he with and what's his name?"
After paying the bill and bidding the man farewell, Dad returned home armed with answers to those and a few more questions.He then looked up the church in Boston and called long distance. Back when "long distance calling"
took more than small pocket change.Dad gave the priest all the information he could about his brother.
A couple weeks later, Dad received a heartfelt, grateful letter from the man's sister thanking him for his saintly intervention. "
Because of what you did," the letter said, "we have been reconnected with our brother from whom we had not heard in a long time. Thank you."
I have no idea what happened after that, but because Dad gave without expecting any repayment, one family had a real chance to heal.
My uncle who got the ride to the train station shared this story with me a few years back. But when I asked Dad about it he responded, "Kevin, I don't recall it."Dad just gave expecting nothing in return. Because that's just
who he was. He taught me again; in hindsight, that true giving is not a transaction. But, if given freely, one receives in return riches that money cannot buy.
Dad is no longer here in body. But in spirit, yes. When I reflect on this lesson occasionally, I look up and whisper, "Dad, I hope I can remember now."
-Unknown Author.
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