Peter Guza was doing what most any college kid would be doing that morning — sleeping in.
Today’s story is about Peter and Phil Guza.
His first class was at 10:00 a.m. The phone call woke him up before 9:00. It was a childhood friend from New York, bearing the horrific news.
Peter’s dad, Phil, worked in the World Trade Center. Peter ran downstairs, where the rest of his frat brothers were huddled around the television, watching in silence. The North Tower had been hit — Peter’s dad worked in the South Tower. His panic subsided only a little as he watched the terrible event unfold. READ MORE
One of the greatest lessons Dad ever taught me — it’s never too late to pursue a new passion.
Sarah, the youngest, sitting right in front of her dad.
He was 40 years old. Out of shape. He started running, a little bit each day. Every day, he ran a little farther. Eventually, it became a six-mile a day habit, and something that gave new passion to his life.
And it “runs” in the family, literally — Dad took my sister and me with him to his weekend races, where he almost always picked up a trophy for being the fastest in his age bracket. My sister and I caught the bug and have been ritual runners ever since. As I move into my own fourth decade, I find myself pursuing new passions very naturally, like surfing and aerial arts (think trapeze). READ MORE
Larry, Tyler & Patrick, quite a few years after woofing the dog biscuit
I was walking the dogs, and my kids. Tyler was ten, Patrick was six. We played our traditional game, “How much?” That is, how much money would it take for one of us to eat a worm, or jump into a pool of manure, or lick a dead rat. Grossed out? Of course, so were we. That was the point…and we loved it.
“How much to eat a dog biscuit?” I proposed, pulling a dog treat from my pocket. Tyler’s reply was immediate, “I will if you will, Dad!”
I popped that dog biscuit into my mouth without hesitation! The boys were shocked; the dogs stared in wonder as I chewed up their bacon liver treat. READ MORE
There is tension in Texas. In a state where football is religion, and star quarterbacks revered, the hot topic is 20-year-old Jonathan Manziel, aka “Johnny Football.”
Johnny Manziel accepting the Heisman Trophy, 2012
Will he lead another record-breaking season for Texas A&M? Or will his off-field missteps lead to a major disappointment for thousands of Aggies?
Last year, Johnny became the first freshman to win the Heisman Trophy. He is one of five quarterbacks (and the only freshman) in NCAA history to pass for 3,000, and run for 1,000 yards, in a single season.
The problem? One day, he is the iconic football hero. The next, he is arrested in an altercation supposedly involving racial slurs and a fake drivers license. Recently, it’s alleged he accepted money for signing autographs. That could make him ineligible to play. READ MORE
My father, a banker, taught me the value of client relationships.
Jane (far right) and her father (behind)
One of his customers ran a filling station on the other side of town. I remember every Saturday as a child, driving across town with my dad to get gas from this customer of his. We probably burned up half a tank of gas to go get gas so we could give his customer the business. My dad said his customers deserved nothing less.
Dad not only taught me the value of taking care of your customers, he also taught me the value in taking care of my finances. How serious was he about this? He would almost make the postman wait for him to write checks for the bills he received that day! READ MORE
Skylar and Her Father Dancing to ‘Jingle Bell Rock’
My father and I shared the same musical taste and, as it turns out, much more.
“Chickity China the Chinese chicken / you have a drumstick and your brain stops tickin’ / Watching X-Files with no lights on …”
I freeze. I look toward my father, hoping he knows the next line, but he’s stuck, too.
“One more time?” he asks. I nod as he presses replay on the car stereo.
A big breath in and … “It’s been one week since you looked at me / cocked your head to the side and said ‘I’m angry,'” we sing in unison.
I’m nine years old, and we’re parked outside Baskin-Robbins because we’ve promised each other we won’t go inside until we nail this last Barenaked Ladies verse. I can’t remember if we ever actually figured it out, or if we even got the ice cream, but what I do remember is: That moment and that music were ours. READ MORE