Sonny

This time of year, we reconnect with family.  Welcome to
the first annual Samuel B. Garfinkel Memorial Rant.

December 22nd.  The day my father died 32 years ago.

I was 18 at the time. It was rough on me, probably a lot rougher on my brother Phil, who was 11.  I can't even begin to imagine how hard it was for my suddenly widowed Mom.  Dad died of cancer that we'd known about for less than a year.

But as tough as it was for everyone else, it doesn't take away from how hard it was on me.  I miss Dad. I never got to know him the way I would have liked to.

And today, three decades later, I see a lot of things in a different light than I did in the months and years that followed that dark December day for me.

So in this rant I'm going to depart from my rigid adherence to copywriting-related topics, and talk a little about my Dad.  It's been 32 years and I realize I've never once written about him in public.

You know, if your parents are still alive...

... you've really got to do what you can to connect with them, while they're still here.  I just spent a few days visiting my mother in Silver Spring, Maryland.  It's the third time this year I've seen her.

And if you know me at all, it won't surprise you to hear that I'm mega-busy every waking hour. I don't have time for half the things most other people take for granted. (For example, I forget to watch TV.  It just doesn't occur to me.  I like to do it, too... but, so many other things to do.)

Now, let's get one thing straight:

I'm not one of these happy-talk cheerleader types about families... but... I'm not one of these doom-and-gloom types either spelling out the different flavors of dysfunction and warning you about the evil side effects of each one.

And so the reason I say you've got to connect with your family is: when they're gone, they're gone, and you can't make up for lost time. There are all kinds of good (and bad) reasons not to connect with your family. 

Ignore those reasons. Do it anyway.

I didn't get to know my Dad as an adult.  That's a shame, because I think I would have grown to enjoy that relationship very much.

He was a scientist, and he had that dry, sometimes subtle, sometimes silly and sometimes demeaning sense of humor you often find with very, very smart people.  He was able to joke about a lot of things and a good part of my sense of humor comes from him.

A lot of it comes from my Mom, too.  I think the warmth and the aware sense of psychology in her humor probably buffeted some of the sharp edges of my Dad's humor in me.

Over the last year I've come to realize fear is a bigger element in our lives than most of us know.  Dad wasn't fearless, but he had to courage to explore, investigate, invent.  He gave me the gift of permission from a parent to do the same things.

Dad was a nuclear physicist, and for his job he went in to work in a lab. (No, he didn't make nukes.)  At home, he had a little electronics workshop in the basement.  He used to invent timing clocks for racetracks, using "nixie tubes," which are a few generations before LEDs and LCD screens.

They're vacuum tubes (like you find in old radios) that have numbers as filaments.

Dad told me that the Daytona 500 used one of his clocks once.  He was so proud of that -- and I was proud of him.

When he was growing up in Detroit, they called him "Sonny."  I guess it's an especially big thing for a kid from Motown to have his invention play a part in one of the most famous car races of all.

Anyway... as I've grown older and settled into my own life, my own career, my own circle of friends, and my own neighborhood in San Francisco, I've had a chance to reflect on my Dad and appreciate all the gifts he gave to me that, at the time, I resented, refused to see or simply had no way to even recognize.

I guess every child has to go his own way without his father's help and suggestions at some time in his life.  Almost every one, anyway. I just wish he had been around longer so I could admire him, argue with him, complain about him, learn from him and love him as a real living person, instead of as a presence in spirit and a human memory that is growing dimmer year by year.

David Garfinkel
Publisher, World Copywriting Newsletter
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Comments

[Mike Sigers]

David,

Seems I'm not the only one after all...

My father was taken away by a car accident when I was 18 months old. As you could guess, I have absolutely no memory of him. His mother, my grandmother ( now since passed on, too ), who was in her 40's at the time, took me in to raise as her own. In fact, I only found out she wasn't my mother at age 6, just before she took me to school for the first time.

Yesterday, I went to get a haircut, at a new place, as we only recently moved back to Kentucky from Pensacola Beach, FL (BEFORE the hurricanes hit). The town we live in is about 50 miles from our hometowns. The barber and I exchanged names and he asked where I was from. When I told him my hometown, he asked what street, so I asked why he'd narrow it down to a street, in a town 50 miles away. He said, that's where I'm from, too ! Well, the coincidences get even better, as he had grown up 1 street away from my house and when he found out my father's name, he told me some stories about my dad giving a certain young fellow several whuppins over my dad wanting to date this fellows sister ! This incident, in particular, involved a man who is now the president of a state university ! Well, I had heard about this several times over the years and had even had similar incidents myself, with the daughter's of some of the young ladies my dad had dated. Several mother's in our small town, pop 2000, locked up their daughter's and made my coming around to play with their son's off-limits, when they found out my name, or more impotantly, who my dad was.

Hearing these old stories again, and particularly at this time of year, makes the Holiday's seem a little less glamorous. When I see my beautiful wife and 3 lovely, young daughter's, and the sparkle in their eyes, it brightens my day and makes it easier to look upward and say to the heaven's....I love you and miss you, thanks for the memories that never go away.

Thanks, David, for your story and for a place to tell mine. And say a prayer of thanks tonite for the 18 years you had to form those memories you cherish.

[Jim Van Wyck]

Dear David... and all....

Thank you David, for sharing this most personal of stories.

This blog on copywriting is
certainly on my list of "best finds of 2004".

To my tastes,, the best writing is often
the most personal, and most intimate.

That goes for "copy" writing as well as "writing" writing, in my opinion.

Nietzsche said it best for me...
"Of all that is written,
I love only what a person has written
with his own blood. -

Thanks again for your 2004 blog
filled with fun, information, wisdom,
many outrageously profitable ideas...
and the occasional spash of your own hot and salty blood.

Jim Van Wyck

[John Gilger]

From the other point of view.

Your story reminded me why I need to keep my priorities straight and not let work and other "things" steal time from my family.

My grandson's "father" walked away from him when he was 4 months old and never looked back. Since then Zach has been more of a son than a grandson. It has been a good 10 years for me.

John

[David Garfinkel]

Thanks much, Mike, Jim and John. I'm glad my post was meaningful to you.

David

[Bennett Baker]

David,

Many thanks to you for writing and sharing some of your memories of your father, as well as some of your friends.

I have written an article titled "A Tribute To My Father" which I hope someday to get published, somehow.

My experiences are somewhat different from all you folks in that my Daddy was 72 years old when I was born in 1937, (Mother was 32).

I was 16 when Daddy died so we really never had a chance together. Your stories brought back some long lost memories and admittedly a few tears.

Thanks again,

Ben

[David Garfinkel]

Hey Ben,

Thanks. Wow, that is a different situation. Your Dad lived a long time, though I know the only time that counted for you was the time you were alive, as his son.

Glad my rant and the thread that followed added some meaning to your own experience.

Let me encourage you to get your article published... with the Web, if nothing else, you can put it on your own Web site, or start a new one. I have a good friend who put up a site soley dedicated to his father... and this friend, Mike, has several other Web sites for his business.

David