The Best Man I Ever Knew
On Sunday evening, at 8:40, I lost the best man I ever knew. At age 95 his passing could hardly be considered a shock, but I knew that someone truly remarkable had now both come and gone in my life, and on the planet. His was a presence worth remembering not only for what he meant to those around him, but to those who want to believe that there is still heroic nobility, a Renaissance fabric, alive in all of us. Yet this is not an “everyman” sort of story; it’s about this man.
He was born without ceremony in a small Ohio community to working-class parents, raised in the urban outskirts of Philadelphia. In growing to adulthood he worked at menial but many jobs that laid the groundwork for the discipline, persistence, constancy and steadfastness that came to characterize his life. He served as an officer in the United States Air Force during the tumultuous war years, and acted upon his love for the woman of his life by marrying her in the middle of those uncertain times. It was one of many examples of his belief in the future and the positive impact of his own attitudes on the world around him.
There are many men for whom this story could be told thus far, but precious few who could match the achievements and lifelong impacts to come. For this was a true Renaissance man, not in the sense of surface sophistication, but in the reality of being able to learn and refine life and work skills almost without boundaries. He simply made up his mind to achieve something and then did it, most often with humor and great grace.
*The power of a positive mental attitude marked every endeavor of his life. I happened to be with him on one occasion where he predicted that he would change the mind and attitude of an entrenched appliance sales clerk, by the sheer force of his own positive mind. I stood in awe as the overmatched clerk reluctantly, painfully yielded on every term under negotiation. Over the years, I observed and marveled at the countless advantages that he gained in his interactions with others by the presence of his positive thoughts. It was as though he possessed a magic of the ages, and I had witnessed the power of something immense.
*His faith served as the rock-solid basis of his confidence. If he was aware of the Renaissance nature of his existence, he would have attributed it to his unswerving belief in and reliance upon God’s presence in his life. He did not openly proselytize or condemn, but simply lived every day with the recognition and appreciation of the capacities with which he had been blessed. He was openly grateful. He regarded the presence of wife and the boys who were “my three sons” as gifts beyond measure, and demonstrated the unusual practice of devoting time to them, despite a career and culture which invited otherwise.
*He joined 3M Company as a salesman and, despite having no college education, ascended the ranks over 32 years to become the senior vice president of marketing for the corporation. He was even rumored by some insiders to be a candidate as the next CEO (an idea which he pooh-poohed as absurd) when he retired suddenly at age 60, to spend more time, as he said, with that wife and family. It was a jaw-dropping announcement at the time, and one which engendered as much admiration and wonder as it did astonishment. In an age of competitive maneuvering and one-upmanship, he modeled a different priority, even when standing at the threshhold of the corporate pinnacle.
*As long as I knew him, fitness and physical activity were primary joys of his life. It was as if he participated in an ongoing orchestration of muscle and movement, reveling in what his body could achieve, challenged by what it could not, putting his mind behind his strength to accomplish new highs and leave behind the lows. He was of that old school that plays handball, a demanding court game of stamina and speed. I watched him play a match once, against a much younger and seemingly faster player. He won the tight contest but afterward said nothing about it. Nearly a week later, one of his handball cronies asked me whether I had actually observed him beating that former national champion, wondering what I had thought about it. But I suppose I had given it little consideration in light of all the physical endeavors I had the chance to observe in him over the years: running, sailing, throwing baseballs and sinking basketballs, skiing, and walks of length and speed at all times of the year. Such was his nature and delight.
*Few people I have encountered could match his honesty and integrity. He would say that these were the only real attributes that mattered, that the “self-in-the-mirror” test was the only exam that really had to be passed. And so it was not unusual that he would remind an errant company that he had not been billed for something, not once or twice, but three times before personally delivering payment that had not even been requested. Or refusing to share his granddaughter’s all-you-can-eat buffet meal, because he had ordered off the menu and the fairness lesson was too important to ignore. He would say that rest came easier when you told the truth.
*Perhaps truth-telling is what allowed him to navigate the demands of his life in such good humor. He teased, he joked, he laughed and with no prompt or reason would launch into caricature voices or silly dances reminiscent of Snoopy upon the doghouse: unbridled delight and energy for its own sake. Perhaps no other of his colleagues at 3M could or would even try to get away with the rapier-sharp repartee with the company’s CEO of that time. And with equal effect, he clowned with his own children who would parry his loving jabs and outrageous claims as he crooned strained versions of “Mack the Knife.” He wrote rhyming poetry for birthdays and anniversaries that touched and tickled. I confess to jealousy when I recall him in such scenes.
*Ill-temper was something that he reserved mostly for himself, berating his own perceived shortcomings and often suffering at the frailties of his own human limitations. He was the only one I ever overheard leveling criticism in his direction; there must have been others over a lifetime of work and interaction, pressure and competition, but I did not hear it. The marriage of humility and confidence is an imposing combination which does not invite frequent attack, but admiration, unless the attack is your own. Perhaps he was tough on himself out of recognition that others would find it difficult to do so.
*One of the more amazing observations I can make about him is this: in the fifty-nine years during which I knew him, I never heard him utter so much as one word of profanity. In an age when such language permeates virtually every niche of our lives, including in schools and virtually all media, he reserved his language for more noble sounds. When I asked him about such discipline, he replied that for him, use of profanity signaled a lack of anything more important to say, that guttered words would place you firmly in the gutter, and undermine the truly valuable things you might have to say. Little surprise, then, that in addition to being a consummate business executive, he was also a gifted speaker, using humor and real life and noble words to express his most closely-held ideas. I even heard him preach a sermon on one occasion, at a community church where lay pastors were the norm. His sermon was entitled, “The Unfinished Man,” and while I suspect he may have been referencing himself, I recall wondering why. The sermon was riveting, personal, and in all likelihood that community church has heard nothing like it since.
The descriptions and stories seem hollow as I recall them here. Like a photograph of the Grand Canyon, it is difficult to capture the grandeur and impact of such a presence; one has to experience it personally, in all of its splendor and facets. I did so. The best man I ever knew was my father, and I have the privilege of looking back on a life that modeled a standard of which I remain in awe. My father had little formal education, but possessed the native, measured intelligence of a near-genius. He and my mother started with little more than their love and determination, but created a storybook life of success and family. He acquired material comforts and opportunities, but treated charity as his personal calling. He was a kidder, but treated principles with the solemnity of their importance. He lived to the old age of 95, but perservered to work out on his exercise bike until just days before his end. And in all due respect to all the other sons of all the other fathers, he was the greatest Dad that there ever was, and the best man that I ever knew….
Leave a Reply