B.O.B. (the Best of Bob)

Vol. 1

Life Lessons from my father (Bob) as he takes on a new battle

We recently learned that my father, Bob, is battling pancreatic and liver cancer. And while unfortunately, it is an advanced stage, he does have some time and is currently initiating treatment options to extend that time — so everyday we keep our fingers, and everything else crossed, that it is as long and as comfortable as possible.

If anything, it has reminded me that time is non-refundable. Once you spend it, there are no refunds or exchanges. Not even store credit. So I feel fortunate for the times spent with him, and the way he spent and continues to spend his time.

One of the unfortunate truths of life is that too often we wait to reflect on the impact of a person’s life until after they are gone, rather than honor their distinct brand of knowledge while they are living — so we can gain from it.

And since we have time, I decided to do just that — celebrate and curate the bits of wisdom, depth of perspective and mastery of life experienced by my dad.

Over the years, I have so often found myself informally drawing on his signature tidbits and traditions and sharing it with others, I figured why not assemble B.O.B.: the “Best of Bob.”

So this is the start of that. Think of it as a cliff notes for living. A masterclass in the many nuances of life, taught by my dad. The plan is to introduce a few here, and then continue to share more as I gather and recall them. Perhaps you will find them useful, I know I always have.

Always Over-Tip Your Breakfast Waitstaff

Growing up, my father used to eat breakfast out every morning. And he once shared with me this little bit of wisdom: “Always over-tip your breakfast waiter/waitress.” The reason? It won’t typically be an expensive meal and you will be doing something good for someone to start your and their day. I started doing it ever since. It became a rite of passage. It may seem small, but the impact is big.

Keep Your Fucking Lawn Mower

This is one of those ones where you really need to hear him tell it for impact, but the lesson is clear. Let’s pretend there’s a man named John. John’s lawn is getting out of control and he doesn’t own a working lawn mower. So he logically thinks, let me go ask my neighbor Joe if I can borrow his. Only as he begins to walk next door, he thinks “Joe’s going to say last time you borrowed it, it came back a mess, and you returned it late and you never bring it back when you say you will.”

By the time John reaches Joe’s door to ask, he is so worked up about all the things Joe will say, that upon the door opening, John says “You know what, you can keep your fucking lawn mower.” The point is, don’t build stories and outcomes in your head before they happen. Ask Joe to borrow the lawn mower. Go ask for a raise. Ask for more time. Take a chance. You can’t possibly know the outcome before it happens.

Live through the front windshield, not the rearview mirror

This is one my dad has lived by. You can’t possibly get to where you are going in life if you keep looking behind you. Shit happens. We are not perfect, and it is important to reflect. But it’s even more important to change lanes, and see the open road ahead and pass that slow car going the exact speed limit and checking their rearview.

Cherish the Breeders’ Cup Days

My dad loved horse racing his whole life. He is a master handicapper. Even today, it gives him so much joy to study the racing form, find that gem and nail an exacta box. So many years ago when he had a chance to go the Breeders’ Cup in person, it was special beyond words. He never forgot that experience that meant something to him, and it inspired him to pass along this mantra “Cherish life’s Breeders’ Cup Days.” Those handful of moments and experiences that are priceless and personal, meaningful and momentous. The ones that conjure an image in your head that could never properly be captured on the ‘gram, no matter how many filters you might try.

S.W.A.N.

You hear so much about the importance of sleep on our quality of life. Catch me on a day that I haven’t gotten good sleep, and I am cranky, short-tempered and not fun to be around. But Bob’s take on this: everyone should SWAN — Sleep. Well. At. Night. That’s not about turning in early or having a comfortable sleep environment, it’s about having all the things in your life — your relationships, affairs, responsibilities, in order so you can SWAN.

Speaking of Acronyms..

Not necessarily bits of wisdom, but a few funny ones he’s coined over the years. Feel free to use them:

FCS: First. Class. Schmuck. Good for when you need code to refer to someone. Could be anyone really. A stranger. A relative. The guy kicking your seat on a plane.

FOS: Full of Shit. So many people are. Separate those that are FOS and surround yourself with the real ones.

Don’t punish your kid for having a party

When I was 17 years old, I threw a huge after-prom party known affectionately as “Bradfest ‘91.” My parents were away visiting my older brother DJ for a parents weekend at Ohio State.

Let’s just say there were a lot of underage teenagers enjoying a lot of things at Bradfest. And I mean, a lot. So it was inevitable that my parents would find me out, which they did.

So I had to have a conversation with my dad that went something like this.

“Tell me everything you know,” he begins before taking a dramatic pause, “Because I know more than you think.”

“Well,” I stammer, “I had a party.”

“I know that,” he says. “How many people?”

“Well, there were like 40 people here. But I blocked off certain rooms and kept everyone outside and hid the valuables.” (add a zero to the 40 for a more accurate headcount) He looks at me, squints and responds “Was there drinking?”

“Of course,” I say.

“What about drugs,” he asks.

“Not that I am aware of.”

“But you don’t know that for sure,” he says firmly.

“No,” I say, trying to hold my ground.

“What about the police,” he says. “Did they show up?”

“No.” ( they did)

“No,” he asks, again, raising his eyebrows, like he is aware of every specific aspect of the party.

“Did you have fun,” he politely asks, letting me off the hook.

“Well yes. I had a good time. But I knew what I was doing was wrong,.”

He gets up for a second and fills his glass back up with water and sits back down.

“When I was a senior at Camp Greylock,” he begins. “And I used to hide beers in the lake, I had a good time.”

I had no idea where he was going with this.

“When I was 16 and used to cut class and head down to Atlantic City or sneak cigarettes past my father, I had a good time. I later admitted to my actions,” he says before looking me in the eye, “But I had fun.”

He then leans forwards and says something I will never forget.

“I am not going to punish you.”

“Your only punishment is when you have a kid, and he does this,” he pauses. “And he will do this. Don’t punish him.”

Yea, so I can’t exactly follow this one (no kids ) but for those of you that do, I urge you to heed this advice. Rites of passage matter.

Well this is the first installment in what I hope to be a series of B.O.B. musings. I hope you find them memorable and applicable. I know have. More from B.O.B. soon.