“If you can make it growing up with me, you’ll do just fine out there in the world.”
—Gerry Benedick to his son
Today’s story is from Matt Benedick.
A blizzard had just ravaged the state. Schools closed. Perilous roads. Everything froze, all covered with ice. Dad took me out in the cold on a long trek through the woods. We were alone, isolated deep in the trees. My hands became numb. Eyes started to burn. Legs ached. Feet froze. Cheeks were red as a plum.
Matt, age 4, and Dad in Bryce Mountain, VA
Silence. Dad said not a word. Neither did I. Complain? Yes, that’s what I wanted to do. But I knew my dad. I could sense, this was no time to whimper and moan. After a while I began to slow down. Could I go on? I wasn’t sure. But Dad was — we walked on.
At the crest, the sun bathed the mountains in pink-orange bliss. Suddenly Dad stopped, standing cold still. Truly, you could hear the snow melt in the glistening mountaintop sun. That’s how quiet it was.
My name is Matt Benedick. This is a story about my dad, Gerry.
Today I reflect on that day many years back. I was just 10. Here’s what dad said at the top of the snow-covered ridge.
“Never forget you can do whatever you put your mind to.
Dig in your heels. Life won’t be perfect—
but you’re gonna do great.”
Dad was always firm, but perfectly fair. “Pull your weight in school and athletics, I’ll take care of the rest,” he said.
Car insurance, tuition, cell phone, a little money for play… As long as my brothers and I “made the grade” Dad covered it all. When we started to slack — no exceptions made.
I double-majored at a tough school. Swam competitively, too. Out of nowhere, I became terribly depressed — I wanted to cut back, I wanted to quit.
One night Dad put his hand on my shoulder and said,
“You can do whatever you put your mind to.
Dig in your heels. Life won’t be perfect —
but you’re gonna do great.”
I pulled through. Things looked up. Until the biggest test of them all.
Blurry vision. Insatiable thirst. I was weak, dizzy. Losing weight. The prognosis was dire: Diabetes Type 1. Late onset, Juvenile. Without fastidious self-care, a death sentence… Or poor prognosis.
Could I go on? I wasn’t sure. I was in vet school then, one of the hardest regimens there is. I talked to Dad. You can probably guess what he said.
“You can do whatever you put your mind to.
Dig in your heels. Life won’t be perfect —
but you’re gonna do great.”
I finished school. I started my own outdoor apparel business. In addition to that, I’m a practicing veterinarian and am doing what I love. I met a woman I adore. And I’ve learned to live with my struggles and difficult illness… In fact, I’ve come to see these as blessings in disguise.
Always — with Dad’s voice in my head…
“You can do whatever you put your mind to.
Dig your heels in. Life won’t be perfect…”
But man, is it great.
Gerry and Matt today
Matt was born in Maryland, the youngest of 4 boys. He is a veterinarian and practices Small Animal Medicine and Surgery in Severna Park, Maryland. He is also founder and owner of an apparel and design company called ‘What Could Be Better?’ He and his wonderful wife, Amy, love being outdoors and active together, and are very blessed to have great families.
Matt’s father, Gerry, is now retired, after a 35+ year career as an economist with the International Trade Commission. Together he and his wife of 43 years, Caroline (Matt’s mom), are enjoying their new ‘full time positions’ as parents and grandparents.
Yet another reason why I am so proud to be a part of this wonderful family. Well written Matt. Love you all!
Mat:
You and your brothers are truly blessed. We are very proud of you. You have had a remarkable life thus far. We can only imagine how many lives you are going to benefit. Your Dad always had a preference for salt over sugar. Moderation is the key. The blend seems to be working well.
Love,
Rich and Julie