DAD'S BUSINESS CARDS
“As he got older and the long hours became more challenging, Dad retired once again. And once again he found a new way to be useful.”
I can’t tell you exactly how many jobs my dad had (many!), but he definitely had three full careers. He started in the newspaper business in high school, working before and after school, learning all there was to know about the production and printing of a daily paper before those tasks were computerized. He worked his way up and eventually became production manager of The News Herald in Morganton, NC, a position he held for almost 35 years. This was the foundation that supported a family of six, plus his mother, who lived with us when I was young.
After retiring from the newspaper, he became involved with a local funeral home. Initially he helped part-time with office work, but once the owner discovered Dad’s gift for comforting people, he branched out into other roles—picking up the deceased from their homes, creating video montages for services, holding doors at visitations, you name it. For almost 15 years, Dad served grieving families and was there for those in need. I still run into friends and acquaintances who tell me how much his kindness meant.
As he got older and the long hours of the funeral business became more challenging, once again Dad retired. And once again he found a new way to be useful—this time in his late 70s, in the local school system. He tested to become a substitute teacher. “Mr. Fred” did most of his substitute work in a local middle school, and especially enjoyed working with children with developmental disabilities. He told me it was his most fulfilling role; had he known, he said, he would have made teaching his life’s work. He substituted until his battle with progressive supranuclear palsy made it impossible to continue.
Through all three careers, there were always side gigs: a small-job print shop he launched in our basement, rubber stamp–making (the old-fashioned kind for addresses and signatures, on wooden blocks with handles), typewriter repair and of course music. Dad had a beautiful tenor voice and had taught himself to play guitar, banjo, harmonica, organ, dulcimer and—his true love—piano. He was the church choir director, a member of a local gospel quartet, and he gave piano and guitar lessons. With his work ethic and varied interests, there was always something going on, always something to do. Dad made being busy seem enjoyable.
All this from a man who came from an impoverished, abusive childhood, with an alcoholic father who not only beat him but belittled him. I am only recently learning how much Dad, his mother and his siblings struggled. It was a feat that he managed to finish high school and then find work that kept him on track and enabled him to support his mother. He started his own family and strove to have a different life. He rarely talked about his childhood and never about his father.
All my life I sensed his sense of insecurity, how he compared himself to others, how he never seemed to think he was good enough. I don’t know that he ever took stock of all he accomplished in his 86 years. The family he built, the people he helped, his willingness to take on something entirely new not once but twice. And fundamental to all those things, the way he broke the cycle of alcoholism and abuse.
As my brothers and I were going through his things after he died, I found these two old business cards: one from a job I barely remember him having, and the other from his music ministry, which he continued most of his life. As someone who also sometimes feels not good enough, I keep the cards on my desk as daily reminders that I can do anything. I need no reminders of everything my dad did for me.
—Christal Brown
Christal Brown works in corporate insurance and writes in her spare time. She lives near Chattanooga, TN, with her husband and adult kids.
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I love this one! Your description of your father is wonderful. I really appreciate how you honor his life, especially after you learned about his painful childhood. Thank you so much for writing this. I wish you well. 🙏❤️🥲
Your Dad sounds like such a special man, not only to your family but to all he met. His industry of spirit and drive to remain useful is a lesson we all could benefit by. Lucky you to have had him.