Hello World Changer!
I have written about my dad a lot. He had a huge impact on who I am today and what I do. It’s a mixed bag of parenting, and I have done plenty of soul searching, connecting the dots from my childhood to my adulthood and my own parenting patterns.
Most parents do the very best they can with what they know, still leaving their children often hurt, wounded, and scarred. But we also leave our children with an imprint of identity and lasting attributes that shape them into functioning adulthood. If we are lucky, we make our children feel loved, wanted, cherished, capable, and valuable.
I wrote a book called Unemployable, and my dad played a big role throughout the book. I told many stories about my childhood, teenage years, becoming an artist, and my journey toward purpose and destiny.
Some stories make my dad sound wonderful and charming, while others paint him as a blind cyclops monstering his way through parenting bearing the baggage of his own messed up childhood.
Escaping Expectations
He was born in 1947 in Greece, during the aftermath of a horrific and terrifying four-year Nazi occupation. The Greeks suffered starvation, abuse, and trauma, followed by an immediate civil war of communists versus patriots.
When he was born, my dad was moved into a French convent in Northern Greece, where he spent the first five years of his life estranged from his parents. Once united with his family, he grew up with a very strict and unloving father, who fought for the wrong side.
He was introduced as Doctor Michael from childhood through his school years and was arranged to marry his mother’s best friend’s daughter, Eleni. But my dad didn't want to be a doctor or marry Eleni.
With a scholarship and some help from relatives in the US, my dad fled to Washington State to start his new life. His parents never approved of his life or dreams. His father esteemed the proletariat, even though he held a prestigious job as the principal of an American private school. He thought my dad must be a wretched capitalist thief and denied any approval or honor to the life my dad built around chandeliers, ponies in the backyard, and a 41-foot sailboat.
If my dad had become a starving artist, receiving a few crumbs from the government for public art while devouring a library of philosophy, my grandfather would have approved. The only dream my grandmother thought was worthy was becoming a doctor (noble enough for my grandfather), marrying Eleni, and living in an apartment next to my grandparents in Greece.
But my dad had other dreams and defied his parents in pursuit of them. He lived his own hero’s journey, overcoming his own cyclops and managing to find a wife who loves him and raise two children who have each pursued their own big dreams.
A Hero's Heart
I admire my father’s defiance and rebellious heart—the way he pursues passionately what he believes in even at his own peril. I admire that he took risks and wanted a life of his own, generously sharing it with his family.
He passed down to me this hero’s journey. He gave me grit, tenacity, and perseverance. The words he spoke were lofty, grand, and heroic. He worked steady and strong towards a singular goal, persistent in his pursuit.
Like him, I became an ox. Ploughing each day, looking forward to the harvest of the next season. I found my work ethic in my father.
From my father’s childhood lack and deprivation, he lavished his family with everything he had. He was generous on all occasions and gave us an overabundance of expensive things: our favorite clothes, gold and diamonds, ponies, math lessons, fishing, skiing, and trips to Hawaii.
He was the Little League soccer coach, fisherman, captain, scientist, champion or coach of all games and races, hunter, family singer, Santa Claus, and our greatest advocate.
A Father and a Fighter
When I was in the sixth grade, I was one of four white kids in my elementary school in Hawaii and was targeted in a school brawl. I sat on the sidelines and watched a kid get kicked by a mob of students. Somehow, I was named as one of the bullies and was suspended.
My dad fought on my behalf all the way up the school board until they removed me from the incident and gave me my innocence back. My dad told me to defy my suspension and go to school anyway, and if they did anything he would be there with me. I knew that my dad had my back and would do anything in his power to help me or save me.
That same year, Maryann Chesky pushed me down while I was riding my new bike and stole it. The next day, my dad gave me my bike back. My dad made me feel bulletproof.
As an adult, I was falsely accused of starting a fire in a large tent show in Scottsdale, Arizona. More than 60 vendors were suing me for millions in claims and loss. My lawyer was fighting the case that was submitted to the courts, but my dad initiated a countersuit in contractors court against Empire Electric, the real culprit of the fire.
He stood every day in court as my advocate, building a case for my innocence and proving the violations and wrongdoing of Empire Electric. The contractor court decided in my favor, and all of the evidence became discovery for my lawyer in the other courts. I eventually won that case and was completely exonerated and paid in full for everything I lost in the fire.
Raised for Resilience
My dad is responsible for some very tough lessons as well. We had to help him chop and stack wood in the rain and mud and never complain about our splinters. Splinters were dealt with later by the glow of the fire with my dad’s pocket knife. If I wanted a horse, I had to feed and care for it, even in the cold, dark rain; and I didn't dare complain.
One of my dad’s biggest lessons was to be “self-sufficient.” Whenever I heard those words leave his mouth, I knew aching pain and frustration followed. He refused to carry my things for me or make anything easier if it taught me perseverance and grit.
I remember how the joy of ski trips and the thrill of flying down the hills racing my brother only followed an uphill struggle of carrying my heavy skis and poles from our parked car all the way to the lifts.
I usually walked completely alone, nose running, tears streaming, arms aching, shins bruised by my ski boots, slipping, falling on ice, more tears, a frozen nose and fingers, and never a father’s strong arm to relieve me. I had to overcome this cyclops of self-doubt alone. I had to find the boundaries of my abilities and push through.
Traveling to the beaches of Waikiki and the excitement of flying on an airplane was only achieved by lifting and carrying my own suitcase. It was navy blue and red with two straps that buckled around it. No wheels of any kind. I was never allowed to drag it because I might tear my suitcase. I had to lift and carry my suitcase, often alone, following far behind my family, again arms aching, the buckles banging into my legs giving me a bruise with each step.
Frustrated tears and a sweaty forehead got me from the parked car to the check-in because I knew I would never get help. This was the only way I could get to the magical land of snorkeling and tropical flowers.
The Hardest Hill, The Greatest Gift
Finally, my brother and I traded our blue and red suitcases for new brown vinyl suitcases that had four wheels and a strap to pull. My days of suffering at the airport ended. I only had to contend with the occasional fallen suitcase, using all my strength to get it standing upright so the wheels would work.
I remember feeling abandoned and uncared for in these situations of “self-sufficiency.” I thought, “Where is my dad? Why won’t he just help me? I’m young and weak and can't do it. It’s not fair!”
I felt angry and frustrated. I realized for my mom and brother, this wasn't as hard and “self-sufficiency” wasn't equal. My self-sufficiency was almost insurmountable. I had the hardest hill to climb. A six-year old girl and a nine-year old boy couldn't carry the same load.
But I did.
That is what actually matters. I know that now. My dad gave me the greatest lesson. No matter the struggle or obstacle or feat I must endure, it can be achieved one sweaty step at a time. It might take longer than expected and come with bruises and pain and bitter cold, but I will eventually get there for the ultimate reward.
This “self-sufficiency” was ingrained in me from my earliest memories. Whether it was pushing wheelbarrows full of horse poop through the mud, carrying skis, or lugging suitcases, I had to push through, and a crying fit would get me nothing. These lessons made me capable and showed me I had superpowers beyond the edges of myself. I had reserve tanks of ability beyond the limits of what was possible.
Loved Into Strength
By far the greatest gift and lasting imprint my dad gave me was the belief that he is good. He loves me. I am the apple of his eye. He would give me anything I needed or wanted and would always be there for me.
Even in times of tears and aching arms carrying skis, I knew he was at the top of the hill watching me, resisting the instinct to step in and make it easier for me. I knew he was cheering me on from the top, telling me I could do it.
His bounty of generosity towards me translated later in life to my attitude towards God. It was easy for me to believe God was good and didn’t want to smite me. God had endless generosity for me. God believes in my dreams and knows I have what it takes to achieve them. It was easy for me to believe God loves me and I am the apple of his eye.
I could easily believe God is in my corner advocating for me, standing for me, and proclaiming my innocence. In God’s eyes, I am capable, strong, a fighter, and self-sufficient; yet I know he is always there from hilltop to hilltop, leading me higher and higher towards the summit. He didn’t do it for me, but I know I couldn't do it without him.
Unlike God, my dad has faults. His faults are his to own, and I have spent half of my life forgiving him. His faults are a stain from his father’s faults, and my dad’s victories and achievement are in spite of them.
This is what I admire most in my dad. He overcame. From his lack, he gave. From his deficit of love, he loved. From the fears of his trauma, he raised a woman who could be fearless.
Thank you, Dad, for all that you gave me and who you shaped me to be.
What is the most important thing your parents have taught you?
