David Vogt with dad Bill, his model in life.
I had just turned 6.
I was building a barn in rural Illinois.
I was working for Dad.
I was paid 50 cents an hour.
Dad was a factory worker. He made screws for telephones.
Back then, he needed to moonlight construction to support our family. He eventually rose into management, a high paying job. That week, he was pouring a concrete floor for a barn. It was backbreaking labor. READ MORE
A long walk without shoes. A craggy dirt road.
An hour to school. An hour back home.
My name is Shawn Kumar. This is about Dad.
Nand & Shawn Kumar…proud dad with proud son.
What kids now expect, he would never have dreamed. My father grew up in India. He was thankful just to have shoes. As hard as it was, Dad dreamed of the best, only good things. He did it back then. He does it today.
My father was determined to create an opportunity-filled life for the family he one day would have.
1936 Ford Coupe
My father, Charles Crist, was a fireman for the Pennsylvania Railroad. As a railroad employee, he was entitled to a “free pass” to anywhere on the ‘System.’ Over New Years, Mom and Dad decided to take the train to Baltimore to visit my older sister.
I had turned 16 the August before, and was a proud licensed driver. My family’s only form of transportation was a royal blue 1936 Ford Coupe with a rumble seat. Just before he left, my Dad instructed,
“If it snows, leave the car in the garage.”
Off they went. I had the car to myself. My buddies and I were going to have a blast.
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My kids say this is my “smart guy” photo.
It started with my dad, Chubby. He taught me a ton and made me want to know more. I learned that big concepts can often be expressed in just a few words. Chubby was a master at that.
Over 30+ years, I’ve assembled quite a collection of these nuggets of life. I call them “Chubby Rules,” named after my dad. I thought I would pass on a few of my favorites. Some are my own. Most are what others have said or I’ve read. If you’ve heard them, a reminder can’t hurt. Most of us know what we ought to do. We just need a nudge. READ MORE
This morning a Savvy Dad friend and story contributor (and really smart guy), Michael LeBoeuf, reminded me of that quote from a great book, The Black Swan by Nassim Taleb.
Me, Greg, a few years back.
It made me reflect back to a Saturday breakfast with Dad at Perkins Pancake House in Montgomery, Ohio. I was 12, maybe 13. It was our father-son tradition — the highlight of my week for years. We were sitting across from each other in a dark-red shiny booth next to the window, looking out at the road. It was a cold, icy morning. I can still picture the massive platter before me, stacked high with five syrup-laden pancakes, hash-browns and a double order of crispy bacon. READ MORE
Rocky, Lora’s big-hearted
tough biker dad.
We lived in Mountain Home, Idaho, a very small town. Mom, a Civil Engineer with the Air Force, traveled for work. With her away so much, Dad raised my sister and me.
When I was 9, Mom was assigned to South Korea. She would be gone a whole year.
Dad said, “You and I are the grownups now.” Together, we would take care of my little sis, the house and ourselves.
All was so good. Then lice came to town. “Epidemic,” they said.
1974, “Piloting the boat with a cigar in my mouth. From the beginning, I wanted to be just like Dad.”
We climbed into our pick-up and raced to their farm. I was 10, excited, nervous and scared.
Dad was an intense guy—about people, work, whatever was part of his immediate sphere. He dove in when needed. He gave it all that he had.
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