Home and WorkPosted: July 12, 2008
My daughter-in-law put it perfectly, in describing how she feels about my son. “He feels like home.” There’s an ease, a peace, a comfort, a closeness, a feeling of security, a friendship that lets you relax and be yourself. I understood what she meant because I had that with my husband, too. Never in all my years had I felt so comfortable with anyone. Never in all my years had there been anyone so dependable, someone I could trust my life to.
I have known good people all my life. Never have I known anyone as genuinely good as he. He became someone I admired, looked up to, wanted to be like. He became a role model for my sons — someone they wanted to emulate, to do business like.
I worked with him for twelve years in his computer networking and service company. I knew how he handled customers. I knew the brilliance, combined with an electrical engineering background, that allowed him to make anything work, to understand the big picture, to, when a network went down, be able to walk on site and in a very short time execute basic problem solving skills and locate the source of the breakdown and either fix it or call those responsible for the failed part. I don’t think his customers were ever without a network for more than a day, or a part of a day — even when one burned to the ground and when one was struck by lightning. He kept boxes of old computer parts, he kept an inventory, he kept components he could pull out and use permanently or temporarily to keep a customer up and running. He was there in an emergency. He was dependable. He was “home” to his customers, too. His four rules for life, which he told me right after I first met him, were “Show up, be on time, be fair, play by the rules.”
He was “home” to me. Two weeks ago today, I lost “home.”