The Men Who Raised Me
My dad was the man. It was never even a thought that he was going to do anything for the family other than what was best for all of us. Our household was incredibly stable and comfortable. We weren’t rich but we sure never missed a meal or wanted for much. During my entire childhood, I watched my dad handle his business like a man. He would say with pride that he was a, “nose to the grindstone,” worker who just kept going and always answered the bell when it came time to get things done. My dad always warned me about the dangers of being a “leaker.” Leakers were people that weren’t dependable when the chips were down and the game was on the line. In some ways, the worst thing a person could be was a leaker. That mentality is still a major part of my mindset and perspective. Leakers are everywhere, and it usually doesn’t take me long to spot one.
Not only did I have an amazing dad, but I was spoiled in the sense that I had a number of other strong male role models in my life. As a sports-obsessed kid, I always had some kind of season going on. Football, baseball, basketball, track, whatever. I got to play for some really amazing coaches who volunteered a ton of their time to make me better. Some of these guys were super serious. Others were silly. Many were a little rougher around the edges than my parents. All had a huge impact on my life.
My dad would raise his voice now and then, but he rarely cursed and never at us kids. On the other hand, I had coaches who would scream and yell and berate and curse and throw things. Even though these actions were not something I had ever experienced at home, it never bothered me when my coaches did them. I just figured it was all part of the process. It certainly made me grow some thicker skin and learn to handle a bit of adversity. There was one coach I really could not stand to be around, but I knew I had to show up every day, do what he said, and be there for my friends and teammates. That taught me a lot about life that has proved invaluable in adulthood.
Different sports always carried their own unique smells. During baseball season it was the smell of fresh cut grass and the oil and leather of my glove. The football locker room absolutely reeked of grass, dirt, and sweaty pads and practice uniforms that were long overdue for a wash. Our school’s basketball gym had the smell of hardwood and the varnish they used on the court. But apart from the natural smells of the season or playing field, my coaches all delivered their own odors too. Basically, these guys smelled like grown men of the ‘80s and ‘90s. One coach smelled like an ash tray and coffee as he yelled into my face. Another coach made me adept at identifying the smell of various flavors of Skoal chewing tobacco. During the fall deer hunting season, I saw one of my coaches at a buddy’s hunting camp. He was drinking good old white label Jim Beam on the rocks. When I asked him if it was good he gave me one of the greatest reviews of all time. “It ain’t bad if you don’t mind the taste of whiskey.” Naturally, he reeked like whiskey as he said it, and my brain forever associates him with that sweet smell of Jim Beam.
My mom is the greatest mother a person could hope for, but I owe a lot to the men who raised me. They got me on the path to where I am today. They mentored me, built me up, made me suffer, taught me life lessons, toughened me up, showed me how grown men should handle their business, and a whole lot more.
Johnson, Johnson, Hogberg, Mendina, Maule, Erkilla, Chounard, Benzi, Anderson, Gagnon, Bal, Larsen, Hamlin, LaRoux, Castelaz, Kangas, Trombley, Skewis, Formolo, Madigan, Bray, Bray, Zygiel, Leiker, Pellegrini, Grayvold.