Paying Homage

One of the last lucid conversations I had with my Dad involved my career.  I was working on a multi-tens of millions loan deal, talking with credit officers, conferencing with attorneys and studying Phase 3 environmental studies all while he lay dying.

He told me not to do the deal.  I didn't.

He also told me to get out of the bank.  His words, "It'll kill you, if you let it."  I left, cold turkey during the worst time to quit a job in recent history....August of 2008.

My Dad had a very successful career as a banker, bank president and CEO.  He influenced and helped so many people in so many wonderful ways.  He was a suit wearer.  He ran a tight ship.  He NEVER let it define him.

I can count on one hand the times I ever remember my Dad talking about his work.  Well, other than those nights he lay in an anxious coma because he had to meet with Mr. Lowder.  My detest of that man still runs strong.  And I only met him once.

What did define him were his hands and the music he could create with them.  To me, he'll never be the banker, he was the music man.  The bluegrass music man.

So, 3 1/2 years into a fabulously fun career at a school, I was finally able to pay homage to my music man.  Last Friday night, with a packed house of St. Bernard parents and friends, I hosted a little bluegrass party.  My friend Tammy is the fiddle player for a quite famous band, The SteelDrivers, and she and her guys made me long for those carefree days of sitting and listening to my Dad play.  I have no doubt that he was there.  I could feel him as if he were right behind me.

He'd be proud of what I do.  I no longer work to get paid.  I work because I have fun doing it.  That's what I know he would have wanted for me.  And the ability to plan a little bluegrass gathering as part of my job, well, Dad, that one was for you.