A Personal Reflection
I’m fortunate. My 94-year-old Mom Bea still lives in the same New Jersey home that I grew up in when I was a kid. As Yogi Berra said, it’s Déjà vu all over again.
On a recent visit, I found myself doing some work in my dad, Jack Slater’s old office in the back of the house. Dad worked in finance and as a broker and financial planner.
Dad would take out his green, accounting ledge spreadsheets on paper, a few sharpened #2 pencils, and his old, clanky calculator. I can still hear that calculator calculating. He would add up numbers or do his work by applying his pencil to the paper.
There wasn’t a mouse creeping around the house or near a computer. I found remnants of things he used like brass clasps, rubber bands, and his old library card. His original stapler still waits for its next assignment.
On Zoom through my laptop, I was on a call doing some interviews with stakeholders for a client project for a major media company. My work is primarily online through the magic of technology, while Dad would toil away with old school tools – like a ruler, paper clips, and a rotary, old school telephone.
The contrast between what work meant for dad and what it meant for me felt separated by decades. Yet, we approached our jobs methodically and had the same appreciation for structure, discipline, and the joy of accomplishing something of value. I also always observed how good a listener dad was as he would patiently let others speak first. Dad worked in numbers; my work has been in words and pictures.
Surrounded By His Photos and Memorabilia
Looking around the room, all his photos were still in place.
Like the portrait of his father, my paternal grandfather Joseph Slater, and diplomas and plaques from Valley Forge Military Academy and U Penn and even his high school from Lawrence Cedar Hurst School System.
Every square inch of the walls is covered with photos as if nothing has changed in the twelve years since he passed away. He had the arts and crafts project I did at Camp Winadu in woodworking class hanging on the wall. I think it’s a goose. Lighting the room is dad’s UPenn lamp. Tucked away in his drawer were the faceplate labels he and my mom would insert in the front of their books.
Home has a feeling that is hard to describe. It is both comforting, safe, and yet, aging. Sitting with my mom in her kitchen or the den watching TV connects me to a time, more than fifty years ago, when I would wander the hallways, hang out with my friends, and, as the kids say, learn how to adult.
My parents moved into their home in 1952 when my older sister Diane was two. Dad’s office was built in 1960 when my younger brother Mitch came along. My folks decided to add more rooms to the house to accommodate their expanding family.
Mom told me that Joe Menkin was the builder and Mr. Newman was the decorator and his son was the architect. At 94, my mom still has a remarkable memory. I can’t remember what I had for lunch yesterday. My mom remembers what she had for lunch on Dec 7, 1941.
Walking the halls and rooms of my childhood home is like being transported back in time, without Marty, Doc, and the DeLorean from Back To The Future.
One of my favorite novels reminded me of my visit home.
Thomas Wolfe’s remarkable book, You Can’tGo Home Again, was published two years after death. If you haven’t read it, it is worth the time. It is the story of a writer whose first novel is published and his description of his home town, creates animosity between himself and his former neighbors.
Fortunately for me, I can go home again,, and my childhood house still radiates with bite-sized memories and the loving energy my father left in every room he and my Mom, Bea lived in.
Sitting at his desk – I felt my dad’s love, presence, and a deep appreciation for how hard he worked so that his family had everything we needed.
I always think people get the idea of work-life balance wrong. It was always a life-work balance for my dad. Life came first for him. Dad went to an office everyday of his work life.
But working from home at night or on weekends allowed him to be closer to his family and not become a slave to his office. And that’s just one of so many work-life lessons I learned from him.
With apologies to Thomas Wolfe, I’m so fortunate that I can go home again.
You can set up a time to chat with me about your marketing challenges using my calendar. Email me jeffslater@themarketingsage.com Call me. 919 720 0995. The conversation is free, and we can explore if working together makes sense. Watch a short video about working with me.
