My Dad, Mixed Plaid, and Why No One Scares Me
Thanks to a six-week encounter with the virus du jour, I’ve been forced to vacation from the Blogatini and most other normal daily activities. After twenty years of never being sick! Thank goodness I had just invested in a new organic sheep’s wool pillow and a celestial pink mulberry silk pillowcase. Both got a workout, as I often slept twenty-two hours a day.
This prone time gave my brain some respite and allowed me to visit some long-forgotten childhood memories. One of the mind trips took me to a memory of my dad – a memory that always makes me smile. He was a tall, serious-looking man who was feared yet revered by many. He spoke his mind to the point of being blunt, sometimes even offensive—bottom line, no-nonsense, and honest. As a teen, I soon learned he meant it when he said to be home by eleven o’clock. Once, I arrived home after a night out with friends, and apparently, his watch didn’t sync with mine. I quietly entered the front door at 11:02. He was waiting, and his response was this, “When I say 11:00, I mean 11:00. Not 10:59, not 11:01. I mean 11:00.” Aha! No wonder I am a punctual person.
When he donned his suit and power tie – look out! His presence made his fellow New York Life agents take a step aside to allow him to walk down the hall. He held a motivational meeting every Monday morning for the Northern Ohio office. Keeping with his penchant for punctuality, the meetings were slated for 7:14 in the morning. Not 7:15. Not 7:20. And every Monday morning, even though the meeting was not a requirement, throngs of agents sleepily entered the 7:14 room and left an hour later, clapping and cheering. He was a champion for excellence, and within a year, the Northern Ohio office was the top-producing office in the country.
Once home, Dad would change out of power into odd clothing combinations that usually consisted of mixed plaids. Plaid navy and maroon pants topped with a rust and yellow plaid shirt. A sweater over the top in a conflicting color. Come to think of it, I even remember plaid slippers! He’d come down the stairs, and Mom and I would exchange glances and a little smile. What a guy! I sure miss him.
Often, he would head outside to the lovely and lush sanctuary he created each spring to sit with his pigeon. A large trellis overspread with wisteria shaded him from the sun as he relaxed in the webbed blue lounge chair, the pigeon cooing and bobbing around him. (the wisteria never bloomed until the summer after he passed)
As I thrashed in bed one day, shivering, chilling, and feverish, thinking about my dad, it dawned on me why no one scares me. I thought about my early career within the insurance world and realized that despite who I was talking to, I never felt intimidated. No one scared me or caused me to second-guess myself or my message. My employee benefits company had secured accounts with the National Newspaper Association and several banking associations. This led me to travel and meet with many heads of companies who considered themselves quite busy but often would grant me a few moments of their time. I met this type at the Washington Post, who, like my dad, initially seemed frightening and bigger than life. He talked in a roar and bustled and rustled papers as he summoned me to sit. The clock was ticking, and the room was filled with stressful energy. I looked at this man, and suddenly, my dad appeared in my mind, sitting outside wearing mixed plaids, talking to a bird. It caused me to wonder what the man in front of me wore at home and what soft and gentle things he did away from his time-bomb office. Did he garden? Knit scarves? Play pick-up sticks with kids? Did his socks have holes in them? Was he afraid of bugs?
Common public speaking advice is to imagine the audience as a room filled with naked people. Whoa! Can you imagine if, as a speaker, you entered the stage to find hundreds of naked people looking at you? I would glance around for the Candid Camera crew or perhaps just back away and leave the building. Naked people? No thanks. Unless, of course, they wanted to quadruple the stipend.
When presented with a seemingly scary person, the better advice is to know that somewhere hidden inside is a kind, perhaps even tender-hearted soul who is not to be feared or even revered for that matter—just a person, just like you. Simply two people talking, sharing ideas, thoughts, and differences. As I recall the looks on people’s faces when dealing with my dad, I always wanted to interject – no, don’t be afraid. You should see him at home. He is loving and huggable, and you’d know that by his fun plaid mashups.
And by the way, who said you can’t mix plaids?
And why don’t ‘said’ and ‘plaid’ rhyme?
I’m Baaccckkk …
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scott newman