Lessons Learned
We grew up in a small, three-bedroom, one-bathroom home on the south side of Hammond, Indiana, with an unfinished basement and two giant maple trees in the front yard. I am the middle of three boys. Mom and Dad bought the house the night before I was born, as we outgrew the apartment in East Chicago they were renting. But whatever our home may have lacked in size and amenities, it more than made up for in love and life-lessons on perseverance and purpose.
My dad grew up in Fort Wayne, Indiana. He was popular, funny, and quarterback of his high school football team. When he was young, he had aspirations of serving in public office one day. My mom grew up in Hammond, Indiana. She was (is still) popular, smart, and beautiful. Her plan was to be a high school Spanish teacher. They met in Bloomington, Indiana during college, fell in love, and changed their plans a bit. After dad earned his degree in political science, they settled in Northwest Indiana as he took a job in Chicago.
Some of my earliest memories are being at home with my mom at around age four, when my older brother, Tom, was in elementary school and my younger brother, Greg, was just a baby. I can still smell the Pine-Sol mom used to wash the floors as she cleaned and danced around the house to The Commodores or The Carpenters; this was in the late 70’s after all.
And I was so excited when my Dad came home from work. Within minutes he would be on the floor giving horsey-back rides or play-wrestling with the three of us boys. But these blissful and carefree moments don’t tell the whole story of our family. As years passed by, circumstances would challenge and change us in ways that still resonate today.
The same day Greg was born, my dad was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis (MS), a neurological disease that can cause numbness, dizziness, paralysis, and a whole host of other quite difficult symptoms. And for some, like my dad, it’s progressive, irreversible, and as psychologically straining as it is physically.
At first, the changes we saw in him seemed small. I recall, for example, when he first walked with a cane. No biggie, I thought. It’s just a stick to help with his balance and stability. I remember thinking it actually looked kind of cool.
As his symptoms worsened though, life in our house took on a more serious, but no-less loving, tone. We had family meetings about our finances. My stay-at-home mom became a working mom, starting as a part-time church secretary. I hung out with her after school in the church office, playing with White-Out and copying bulletins on the mimeograph machine. Then my mom got a full-time job in Chicago, working for an insurance broker. My parents commuted together, which made it easier for dad to make it to work despite his deteriorating condition.
My brothers and I played all kinds of sports. And while other kids’ dads coached, ours could not because of his MS. But his disability never stopped our parents from rooting for us. Combined we played basketball, baseball, and football for the better part of twenty years. And I cannot remember a single time my mom and dad missed one of our games. Even when two of us played simultaneously on different fields, they would find a spot in the middle and keep and eye on both games.
Mom’s career advanced slowly but steadily. She took on more and more at work at the same time we demanded more and more of her at home. It was not easy. In fact, at times I am certain that it was impossibly hard on her.
Witnessing my parent’s heroic efforts to make our lives work, despite these immense challenges, instilled in me two things:
First, I hold a deep appreciation for my mom’s strength and perseverance. She, like many women, did these things not just because she had to, but because her commitment to and love for her family were bigger than anything else. She kept our family functioning when it could have fallen apart.
Second, I learned that work has meaning beyond the paycheck. Seeing my dad struggle to get to the office everyday, I couldn’t help but wonder how and why he did it. He could have taken disability and retired much earlier than he did. But going to the office everyday, I believe, made him feel like part of a team. It gave his otherwise difficult life a profound purpose.
Despite our tight family finances, Mom insisted that I go to and finish college. Initially that meant moving away to a private school with help from some scholarships and a big student loan. But the high costs of private tuition and, more importantly, the fact that my high school sweetheart, Carrie (now my wife), was attending a different school caused me to change directions.
Carrie and I each worked part-time while we dated, kept a full class load, and finished school on-time. I graduated with my bachelors degree in management, with highest distinction. Within a month, Carrie and I got married, moved to Chicago, and started working to build our lives together and pay down those student loans. It took the better part of ten years to pay them off completely–a long time, but well worth it.
Dad died in 2003 at the age of 57, just as my own career was beginning to take off. Carrie and I were building a new home in Valparaiso, when he had a heart attack and within a few weeks passed away. He never got to see that home we built, meet his three grandkids that would come, nor learn that his example would inspire me to pursue serving through public office.
Mom moved out to Valpo when our son, Henry, was born in 2009. She now lives just a few blocks away and continues to support us boys in all that we do, including serving as treasurer and advisor to this grassroots mayoral campaign: For The Love Of Valpo.
My dad had a favorite quote. Here it is written in his own hand:
He lived these words, quietly and unceremoniously. Through his struggles, he kept his sharp wit, a clear mind, strong opinions, and an even stronger sense of humor. And he gave us boys more than he realized–everything!