Tag Archives: dad

My Pop-Tart Dad

“The smallest gestures often make the biggest difference.”

—John Wooden


Today’s story is from Sharon.

Dad was distant. We never had a close relationship. Did he even like me? Sometimes I wondered.

pop-tart-dad

Sharon’s Dad during a recent family Christmas.

My father was taciturn, reserved, an academic. Neat freak. Perfectionist. Workaholic.

We were like sugar and salt. I was full of words — and problems, too. Dad said little, buried in work and his books. That’s why my sister and I first lived with Mom in Illinois. But as I grew older, it didn’t work out. Mom and I had issues.

I was bipolar, had OCD and an eating disorder. It became too much for her to handle. So at 18, I packed up and headed for Minnesota to live with Dad. At least he would just leave me alone.

He was exactly as I remembered. Introverted. Distant. But he had a razor sharp intellect, and was very observant. READ MORE 

World’s Best Father – Dave Engledow


by Greg Hague


Engledow (1 of 7)World’s Best Father – Dave Engledow

Today it is our honor to publish a Savvy Dad interview with “World’s Best Father,” Dave Engledow.

You probably already know him through many of the photos we have shared on the Savvy Dad Facebook page.  Dave’s wonderfully creative photography, depicting hilarious images of him and his daughter, Alice Bee, have gained widespread recognition.

 

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Dave was gracious enough to take the time to answer a few questions for Savvy Dad about being the “World’s Best Father,” and how his savvy parents helped guide him into becoming the truly awesome dad he is today.


SD:  What was the best life lesson you learned from your mom or dad?

WBF:  The life lesson I learned from Mom is to always be supportive, no matter what.  No matter what life choices I have made over the years, my mother has always supported me unconditionally and told me she was proud of me.  I hope to be able to do the same for Alice Bee as she grows up.

SD:  What was the most special memory you recall with your mom or dad?

WBF:  I think I get my sense of humor from my father.  I remember one Christmas there was a giant box under the tree.  Inside was another large, gift-wrapped box, and inside that was another, and so on. After opening and unwrapping at least 15 boxes, I found the gift that was the thing I most wanted for Christmas that year – a brand new Swiss Army knife.

SD:  What is the best advice you can pass on to other dads and dads-to-be out there?

WBF:  Make sure to spend time just observing the journey of your new child.  It’s easy to get caught up in trying to shape who and what they are to become (when in fact, I think we as parents have little to no control over that), so make sure to just sit back and quietly watch how they interact with the world.

 

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Biography:

Dave Engledow attended the University of Texas at Austin, earning a Bachelor of Journalism in Photojournalism under the mentorship of esteemed documentary photographer Dennis Darling.  Engledow currently lives with his wife, Jen, and his daughter, Alice Bee, in the suburbs of Washington, D.C.

He spends his days working full-time as the Deputy Director for Working America, the community affiliate of the AFL-CIO.  His “World’s Best Father” photo series is an ongoing project consisting of over 125 images, all of which are shot on weekends and edited at night after Alice Bee has finally gone to sleep.

His book, “Confessions of the World’s Best Father,” will be released on May 6, and is currently available for pre-order on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and most other online book retailers:

http://www.amazon.com/Confessions-Worlds-Best-Father-Engledow/dp/1592408893

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You can check out more of his great photos at his Facebook Page:

https://www.facebook.com/EngledowArtPhotography


Driving with Dad

This story contributed by Christian Jurinka


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Do you remember when you were 8?

I remember simple things like kicking the ball with my Dad, or throwing the football. 

Just the other day, the magnitude of one of my experiences hit me – learning to DRIVE.  That’s right, when I was 8 Dad taught me how to drive.

The two-hour drive to my grandparents set the stage.

Leaving the neighborhood and city streets, my excitement built, as I knew that once we hit the highway, it would be my time to drive. READ MORE 

Nice Guys Never Finish

“The true measure of a man is how he treats someone who can do him absolutely no good.”

—Samuel Johnson


Today’s story is contributed by Bill Bayles.

This is our nicest story. Why?
It’s about one simple thing — a really nice dad.

Nice Guys Never Finish, They Keep Giving

Bill’s graduation with Mom and Dad, 1984

He was born on Christmas day, perhaps a clue.

People always tell me, “Bill, your dad is the nicest guy in the world!” They’re right. He is.

But Dad had it rough growing up. It was not the “happy home” you might assume. My dad had no dad. His mom disapproved of the drinking and other bad habits. She did her best to keep them apart.

Academically? Last in grades, first in love. My dad finished at the bottom of his high school class, but was one of the most popular kids in school.

His first job? A gravedigger. Yep, that’s right. He dug six-foot holes for those on their final passage. Most would cringe, but Dad did it with a whistle and pep in his step. He was cheerful and nice, a ray of light in an often-sad place.

One day, sensing that his life needed new direction, he quit his gravedigging job. That same week, a friend suggested he should attend college. After my dad explained his less than exemplary high school performance, this friend called his friend, who happened to work at the local college. My dad started classes the very next day!

People have always looked for ways to help my dad. They see into his heart, they know he cares.

Dad graduated and became a preacher, then a teacher.

While having lunch one day at his favorite diner, he sensed distress in the man sitting next to him. He offered his ear. It was a divorce. They spoke for two hours. The man asked if my father wanted to start a commercial cleaning business. Dad’s next chapter had just opened . . . He knew nothing about that business, but he knew everything about people. It was a resounding success.

With my father, it’s never been about “networking.” It’s natural. It’s organic. It’s “friendworking.” He simply wants to help you, to be your friend.

As a teenager, I saw this expecting nothing back, always-nice mentality as a weakness. There was no underlying “what’s in it for me” motive. I felt like he wasn’t mentally tough like many of my friend’s dads.

In time, I came to realize that I was both right and wrong. I was right — Dad had no hidden agenda. He didn’t care about being tough. But I was dead wrong — that is precisely what made Dad the strongest man I have ever known.

At 79, my dad now counsels others emotionally in need. Many of his patients are at the local prison.

They say that nice guys finish last.

In the case of my father, nice guys never finish . . . they just keep giving until their time is up.

nice guys

Grandpa, Bob, and Grandma, Shelly Bayles, with their grandchildren


A rare person in this world, and a blessing to all. Love you dad.


Bill and his wife, Karen, have three children, Maria, Chelsea and Sebastian. Together, they have founded three successful firms, all related to benefiting not-for-profit and healthcare firms. Bill has served on a number of nonprofit boards, including college foundations and mission-based organizations like Youth for Christ. He enjoys having the opportunity to work and grow closer with his wife and business partner, Karen, and spending time with their three children — swimming, boating, and fishing together.


Talk To Many. Speak To Few.

Life lessons from Chubby (my dad) and other smart folks I’ve met on the road.


key to selling

Chubby knew life is about selling.

Your product. Your service. Your point of view. Yourself.
Winning an election. Building a business. Finding or keeping a job.
Convincing someone to go out on a date, or in the extreme, “I do.”

Chubby said over and over again, “Greg, the better you sell, the better you’ll do.”

Obviously, I had to ask, “Dad, how do you sell?”

“Why do you ask?” he replied.

“I want to be rich,” I said. “A nice car…big house. I want it all.” Chubby smiled.

“Well,” he answered, “The first step is ‘talking to many, but speaking to few.'”

Strange I thought, talking to many but speaking to few?
Sounded like eating a lot, but not gaining a pound. How is that done?

Chubby explained,

“Greg, others will tell you the key to sales is talking to more people…a numbers game. That’s only half true. The real key is speaking to whomever you talk.”

I was still in the dark. Speak to whomever I talk?
How do you talk to someone without speaking to them?

What Chubby said next turned on a life-changing light,

“Greg, you just turned 14 and you love to bike. What if you saw an ad for a new bicycle designed specifically and only for 14-year-old boys, just like you. The size, the color, the graphics; the company marketed the bike like it was made custom for you.  Would you want to look?”

“Absolutely,” I replied. “I’d want to go see it today.”

“You see,” Dad said. “That bike manufacturer was speaking to you.”

Chubby continued, “What’s fascinating is that this exact bike might also be marketed to 15-year-old girls after a quick change of color and graphics. Same bike. New color. Different market.

The key to selling a lot is to talk to many, one group at a time.”

I was starting to see what Dad meant. This would be great in expanding my neighborhood grass cutting business. Mrs. Bales loved her flowerbed. So when I talked with her about mowing her lawn, I’d speak to my care of her flowers. Mr. Mackay was always sweeping his walk and front porch. So when I talked with him about mowing his lawn, I’d speak to ensuring his walk and front porch were sparkling clean.

The lesson I learned from Chubby that day?

Sliver marketing.

Craft what you say to one like-minded group at a time.
That’s how you talk to many but speak to few.

key to selling



The Successful Bethel

“Never fret for an only son, the idea of failure will never occur to him.”

—George Bernard Shaw


Today’s story is contributed by Dr. Klee Bethel.

When Savvy Dad asked me to share my dad’s best lesson, only one person came to mind — my son.

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Klee with David, his son, and grandsons Caden (age 13) and Brenner (age 8)

Growing up, I was taught that success was defined in terms of wealth and influence. A “successful” man had a tailor-fit wardrobe, a lavish home, and enough cars to fill an oversized garage.

As an ambitious young man, I saw my path to success in the medical field. In time I became a prominent doctor. A success, I thought. I tried to pass on my idea of success to my son, David. It was my duty, right?

But David didn’t see it my way. We were close in his adolescent years — best friends, I would say. But in his teenage years, we started to grow apart. I didn’t approve of his GPA in school. He didn’t approve of my second wife.

By the time David turned 20, and had his first son, we were estranged. I didn’t approve. His choices were all wrong. No college? Working as a waiter? His new wife merely a receptionist?

As a physician, I had made a good living, but eventually went bankrupt when the economy fell. I also divorced my second wife. As it turned out, I was not the portrait of success I had envisioned as a youth.

But my son… Today, at 33 years old, he is the most talented food server in the restaurant. He is deeply in love with his lovely wife, Sedina. They have two wonderful boys, Caden and Brenner, now 13 and 8. My son and his family live a remarkably happy life.

My son’s prescription for success is simple — being an amazing husband and a fantastic father to my grandsons.

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David, Sedina, Caden, and Brenner.

After my second divorce, I finally “woke up.” I realized that my formula for success was shortsighted and wrong. My son was more successful than I had ever been. So, I decided to adopt his vision for success as my own!

Today, I am dedicated to being the best dad and granddad I can possibly be. I visit my son at his restaurant frequently. I attend my grandson’s football games. My daughter-in-law works with me in my medical practice.

As parents, David and Sedina have structured their lives to revolve around their kids. As a granddad, I now structure my life to revolve around them.

I always felt it was my paternal duty to show my son the path to happiness in life. Now, I look to him to show me the way. I consider it an honor to be part of his life.

Of the two of us, my son is The Successful Bethel.


success

Klee with grandson, Caden

Klee Bethel practices Interventional Pain Management in Mesa, AZ at the Beth-El Clinic. He is a board certified MD anesthesiologist who has focused on pain intervention for the past 12 years. Dr. Bethel has been an Emeritus member of the Board of Trustees at Southwest College of Naturopathic Medicine since retiring as its Chairman in 2009. He practices the art of medicine in both a traditional and non-traditional fashion. Dr. Bethel is also an associate medical school professor teaching a class in plant-based nutrition.

Best at Last

“Our best successes often come after our greatest disappointments.”

—Henry Ward Beecher


Today’s story is contributed by William Homeier.

May 31, 1954
Lap 74 — The Indianapolis 500

wrong way

Homeier “swimming upstream” at Indy 500, 1954.


Dad pulled into the pit. The clutch had been giving him trouble all day.

Before his crew could finish, the clutch engaged.

The car spun around, slammed into the sidewall, and careened down the track in the opposite direction!

Not a good day for my dad.

My father still holds an Indy world record — the most laps ever completed by a last place finisher. Not the notoriety he was hoping for.

Did that set him back? Not MY dad! He was Texas-born and raised. When you got bucked off the bull, you got up, dusted off, and did it again.

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Midget car racing

After breaking his arm midget car racing in ’56, Dad bounced back to qualify for Indy again in ’58. However, like in ’54, it didn’t work out. Mechanical issues kept him out of the race.

Finally, in 1960, Dad’s luck changed — he finished 13th in the Indianapolis 500! While he didn’t win the race, it was more of a victory for Dad than it was for the guy who finished first.

Years later, in 1990, my father was interviewed in a special “Where Are They Now” article for The Star newspaper.

The headline?
“Homeier was best at being last.”

He laughed it off. That was my dad. Resilient. Loaded with get up and try again grit.

The lesson I learned from my Best at Last dad?

Winners don’t always cross the line first… but they never stop running the race.

Bill Homeier — my dad — A winner in every sense of the word.


Best at last