Tag Archives: son

Beauty & the Beast

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Today’s story is from Pat McMahon.

I’m sure you know the story of “Beauty and the Beast.” But what you probably don’t know is… I’m their son.

No, I don’t mean the couple in the children’s story. But, it would have been perfectly appropriate to call my parents Beauty and the Beast because that’s the way they talked about themselves.

Beauty is a light in the heart.

Pat teaching his dad Jack a thing or two, age 5.

You see, before my father and mother met and went into the entertainment business, my dad was a prizefighter — a professional boxer with over 90 fights. Back in those days, they didn’t check personal information very carefully, so he was able to get into the fight game when he was 14 years old.

He had a pretty impressive record too, but it was at the expense of his face — layers of scar tissue that built up on his brow, a nose broken so many times it spread in multiple directions. How he ever heard anything through the tiny pinholes of his “Cauliflower” ears is a wonder.

And then there was my mom, The Beauty. She was the essence of the song “Tiny Dancer.” Mom was a petite ballerina, a tap dancer, a skilled acrobat. READ MORE 

Meticulosity

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“When most people are done, my work has just begun…”

—Aaron “Meticulosity” Greenlee

by Greg Hague

In 1960, I was just 12. Remember The Christmas Story? Little Ralphie. The Red Ryder BB Gun? I was obsessed. I had to have one. Grand visions of hunting with Chubby, my dad. One problem … it was July. Christmas was six months away.

I consulted the big man about it. “Well,” Dad said, “Aaron could use some help at the office. Let me see what I can do.”

meticulosity

Aaron “Meticulosity” Greenlee

Aaron was a gentleman in his 60’s. The custodian. The comedian. Cracking jokes with the agents. Everyone loved Aaron. His “office”? A plywood enclosure in the basement. His black metal desk… meticulous. Pens and pencils lined up like soldiers. The surface — polished to perfection.

Dad’s real estate office had cherry wood paneling and mahogany desks. So my first assignment from Aaron — wood polishing. I worked the entire morning. Polished every square inch of that wood. Aaron would be impressed. He would tell Chubby. A bonus for sure!

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Six Lessons I Learned From My Dad

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“Experience is a hard teacher because she gives the test first, the lesson afterward.”

—Vernon Law

Today’s story is from Josh Linkner.

Six lessons from dad

Three generations: Josh (red shirt), his dad, and his son Noah (who will be 16 next month).

Robert Linkner was one strange dude. He forged his own path as he journeyed from hippie to psychologist to retailer to financial planner. He had a hilarious, dark sense of humor, was an incredible chef and had a series of oddball hobbies. He took pride that his tastes in music, travel, food, and life were always a bit different than the average Joe. His life ended far too early when we lost him to cancer in 2007.

It’s natural to miss your dad on Father’s Day, but this year I began to reflect on the lessons he taught me. Sometimes mysterious in his ways, I now realize he was quite deliberate as he instilled his philosophies in my sister, brother, and me. His wisdom has shaped who I am today, and there’s much to learn from his irreverent, non-traditional approach. READ MORE 

Life on My Terms

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“There is only one you for all time. Fearlessly be yourself.”

—Anthony Prapp

Today’s story is from Stan Snyder.

Life on my terms. It didn’t feel right to hide who I was. I dreaded the day, but it had to be done.

Life on My Terms

Stan at the beach

It wasn’t as hard as I thought — “coming out” in a small Tennessee town. I was an athlete, on the swim team. I made great grades. I was president of my class.

Maybe because people respected me, it was OK. Not a word to my face. I expected a beating from other “jocks” in my school. I was surprised. It never came. I felt “whole” for the first time.

And because it was easy, I decided to make the next step. Mom was long gone — she died when I was six. I decided to tell my family, starting with Dad. READ MORE 

Dad’s Incredible Toaster Plan

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“Sometimes you don’t know what you have until it explodes in your face. Keep your eyes open. Be fleet on your feet.”

—Harold “Chubby” Hague, Businessman, Remarkable Dad, Toaster King

by Greg Hague

My dad’s nickname was Chubby. I never knew why though, he was so fit and trim. “A name he picked up in the Air Force during the war,” Mom said. I asked him once… “I had that name before I knew I had it!” he laughed. “My old war buddies stuck me with it. I still have no idea why. I mean, look at me!”

After the war, Chubby came back home to Cincinnati. Married mom. Had me and my sister, Linda. Many of those war buddies came home too, and they needed to buy homes. Dad saw an opportunity.

Dad's Incredible Toaster

Dad’s Incredible Toaster Plan

A short exam. A fifty-cent fee. He picked up his real estate license at the local apothecary (how times have changed). The Harold W. Hague Company was born.

Dad worked incessantly. His company flourished. Most clients needed loans to buy homes. He saw another opportunity.

Dad founded Columbia Savings and Loan. Rented a small building right across the street from his real estate office. In those days, a savings & loan earned a profit the old fashioned way — by accepting deposits, then making loans from those deposits. Dad needed deposits.

Introducing Dad’s Incredible Toaster Plan!

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Color Blind

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Prejudice is a great time saver. You can form opinions without having to get the facts.

—E.B. White

Today’s story is from Pierre O’Rourke.

For years I told anyone who would listen. My father was no father at all. The drinking, the carousing. The child support checks that never came. Mom and I moved away when I was nine. I would not see him again until I was a man.

Father and son, Color Blind

The young Pierre and his father

“Maybe he did the best he could,” said my ever-forgiving mother, time and again. She and Dad kept in touch — some. She even sent him my report cards and letters. But I refused to write him a message or even acknowledge him.

But one night, one movie, one memory suddenly changed it all. I discovered that Dad was not so much a bad dad as a horribly haunted man.

Home from college, Mom and I plopped down, TV dinners in our laps. The movie: 1964’s “Black Like Me.” James Whitmore portrayed a white journalist going undercover as a black man. He traveled through the deep South. The insults. The denigration. It’s no easy film to watch—especially knowing it’s based on a true story. READ MORE 

One in Each Eye

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If you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change.

—Wayne Dyer

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

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