I never really knew my grandfather, Chubby. I was too young to remember what he was like. I wish I could remember the day I met him for the first time. From what I’ve been told, it changed my dad’s life.
Brian, Chubby, and Jason, taken on the day dad and Chubby reunited. Chubby still looking a little “shook up.”
Dad returned to Cincinnati after law school to work for Chubby’s real estate firm. They quarreled occasionally, as fathers and sons do, especially in a family business. Dad told me later he realized it was mostly his fault. He was school educated, so he presumed he was also business smart.
My dad and my granddad disagreed on how to run the business, a lot. One fight went too far. Horrible things were said. A standoff ensued. My dad worked in a second floor office. Chubby’s office was downstairs. They didn’t speak for six months.
My mom was pregnant with me at the time. I was born May 24, 1978. Almost twelve pounds. Mom had a cesarean section, and needed a few days in the hospital to recover. Dad was overjoyed. His first-born son.READ MORE
Today’s story is from Brian Hague about his dad, Greg Hague.
Winter of ’92. I was 14. Denver bound. A father-son ski trip. Dad had a conference for his company there, too. I would finally get to see him “perform” for a big audience.
Dad and me before our spaghetti dinner, 1992
The first day was incredibly fun! Bombing the slopes, racing to the bottom on every run. A battle against each other. Against ourselves. Against the mountain. We capped the day with an incredible spaghetti dinner.
The next morning — the conference was HUGE! Five hundred people looked like five thousand! I was terrified. What if he choked? Froze up?
I sat in the back corner, holding my breath as Dad took the stage. What happened next remains one of my most vivid memories, and a valuable lesson on life. No outlines. No cue cards. No charts or graphs. He spoke to that crowd like he was speaking to us at the dinner table. Totally relaxed. Poised and assertive. Funny and engaging. READ MORE