Why Does He Work?

My dad works so that he can play. A career cannot be completely understood without understanding the reasons why a person goes to work every day. Here are just a few of the things my father works for.

Having married young and raised his girls, my dad is young enough to find the adventure he's been looking for. He took a ride in a WWII biplane down the Jersey Shore, and it was worth every penny.

My dad calls his running shoes his 'wings.' He'd go for eight mile runs every morning before work no matter the weather. He didn't listen to music; he ran far and he ran alone with his thoughts. My mother complained about the expensive sneakers that came in the mail every few months, but he earned every pair.

My father lives for football. Pretty much everything he buys now has something to do with the NY Giants, from the 60 inch flat screen to the laptop he uses for fantasy football.

This plaque hung on the front of my childhood home. It was made by my uncle, who gave it to the family when we moved in. My dad was proud of the house and worked to maintain it.

Every year my family would load in the car and drive five hours to Minerva, New York for our family vacation. Long after his daughters were grown, he and my mother continued to go there together until she passed in 2006.

My dad's boat is his temple. As long as I can remember, he has taken long trips into the bay on his boat, sometimes coming home with fish, sometimes just a little more relaxed and ready for another workday. As my mother would remind him, it was an expensive habit, but I don't know who he'd be without a boat waiting for him at the marina.

When he started working in 1973, he worked mostly to party. Now, as a recovered alcoholic, the only beer he's drinking is O'Doul's.

My dad drinks a pot in the morning, and in the summertime picks up at least one large Dunkin' Donuts iced coffee by the afternoon. If there's one thing my father works for, it's a pile of slick, greasy coffee beans and a top-notch grinder.

What goes better with a beer than a good record? My dad worked so he could come home, kick back, and listen to a couple good albums. I don't think he took better care of anything than he did his records. He earned every one of those records and treated each one with respect.

My father was and always will be a family man. First, he worked to take my mother to the boardwalk on Saturday nights, and then he worked to take the whole family. He worked to keep food on our plates and smiles on our faces.