“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. READ MORE