This Sunday will be my first Father’s Day—the first one in which I am a father myself, which I have only been for about two and a half months.
Sometimes when I look at my infant son Abe it makes me marvel how I get to work alongside my dad in two businesses. It’s mind boggling to imagine Abe as an older kid or young adult who I could engage as an intellectual equal.
Child rearing has made me reflect on some of the similarities I share with my dad. Growing up, my dad’s go-to song to calm us and put us to sleep was “Goodnight Irene” by the Weavers. Soon after Abe was born, in a desperate effort to get him to sleep one night, we played the song on my iPhone. When he heard the violin intro and went silent, we realized we had uncovered an invaluable means to sooth him. Now, we play the song so often I think Stephanie and I know the words better than my dad. I look forward to singing it to Abe alongside him one day soon.
I often listen to a lot of self-help and business podcasts. When my dad was in his 40s, in the car he constantly subjected us to the predecessor of self-help podcasts, Tony Robins audio cassette tapes.
Growing up with learning disabilities, I used to dictate compositions for school to both my parents, which I think really nurtured my writing standards. My parents didn’t over-help me. They used the opportunity to collaborate with me, to push me to come up with creative ideas of substance. Nowadays, I’m the one who fixes the great Lloyd Graff’s punctuation, and I get great satisfaction helping him come up with ideas.
We like to critique each other’s work, both in the machinery business and producing Today’s Machining World, though I admit it seems like these days, I’m often the more critical one between us. He usually likes when I push him, at least he says he does. I ask him things like “do you really want to bring up race relations in the last paragraph of a blog about a steel company?” I often question him about why we priced a machine a certain way when the number seemed so arbitrary. Sometimes I ask him if he’s sure he wants to invest significant money in oily crusty screw machines that are almost as old as him.
My dad is by far the oldest person at Graff-Pinkert, but he usually has the most balls when speccing on machines. He’s the one pushing to bid tens of thousands of dollars for CNC machines at auctions that we have only seen a few photos of online. Sometimes he wants to pay significant money for types of machines we have no experience with. He believes that buying them is often the best way to learn about them. I also love his confidence to be a contrarian in deals. I think he gets extra pleasure buying machines that others have shied away from, as long he has a good feeling in his gut. His chutzpa definitely makes the work more fun.
Whenever I present my dad with a business tip I’ve read, or a negotiation tactic I’ve been practicing, or an esoteric creative project I’m working on, he always shows me respect and wants to understand what I’m talking about. Often he buys into the ideas, sometimes he actually tries them.
One of the things I love the most about our relationship is that we aren’t afraid to openly tell each other how grateful we are for the privilege to work together. We both know that life is too short to hold back from telling the people most important to us that we enjoy being with them and respect them.
Abe is becoming more precocious and interesting every day. Maybe one day we will get to work together, but even if we don’t, I would be blessed if our relationship has the same respect and pleasure as that of mine and his grandfather.
Question: What is the most important thing you learned from your father?
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My Dad consistently told his children “you can’t trust anybody, always be careful”, yet all around him were people he trusted fully. My Mom, Thais, his business partner and first cousin, Aaron Pinkert, his office manager, Arlene Leshner, his plant manager Paul Carlson. His life betrayed his words. I listened to his actions, not his words. He was loyal, trustworthy and honest in his daily life. His Mother was a sad and miserable person. She seemed to hate and distrust everybody, and nobody wanted to have anything to do with her. He used to tell me that his father often told him that the night he married her was the worst day of his life. Yet , my Dad dedicated his life to taking care of her and we saw her several days each week growing up. Even on vacation as a family I observed him on the phone with her every day. He was a kind and loving person and responsible to the extreme. I ignored his advice and took in his actions.
Noah is also kind and loyal to the extreme like my Dad, but much more fun. All three of my children are giving of themselves to others like my wife, Risa. Hopefully, they took some of that behavior from the way I have lived my life because I don’t remember giving much verbal advice.
I know he will be a wonderful Dad just by example. As a person, there is none better. It is the main reason I keep working at 77. It is such a blessing to get to be around him so much, and getting to leaarn from him. Happy Fathers Day.
My Dad taught me how not to manage money.
I am the oldest of 5 siblings and we lived in a little house in Detroit. There was never any money in the house and vacations were very few and far between.
There was always enough money for my Dad to go the bar.
His motto was ” Don’t worry about it, I’ve got money I haven’t borrowed yet.”
Unfortunately that was sad but true.
My Mom did the best she could, but working was not an option, with a baby in her arms for many years.
Anyway, we got by, and his work at GM was steady, so he always had an income.
I am a saver and always have been, starting with my paper route at 13, then on to McDonald’s at 16 and multiple jobs after that and right on through college at U of M Dearborn.
Sometimes we learn lessons through the bad example of others, but ultimately we are all responsible for our own path in life.
Happy Father’s Day to my dear departed Dad. He died 2 years ago at age 87.