Lessons from a Shoeshine Boy
Teal M. Gaylord
©
Copyright 2022 by Teal M. Gaylord
|
Fred Gaylords shoeshine box. Photo courtesy of the author. |
This
is an essay
that I was compelled to write after loosing my father on May 18,
2022. I promised him I would tell his story – I hope I did him
justice.
In
the spring and summer of 1944 World War II had engulfed the world in
some of the most intense fighting of the war; including the Normandy
invasion and the Battle of The Bulge where over 19,000 young
Americans would lose their lives. At the same time on the streets of
Binghamton, New York in war-time 1944, Fred Gaylord, a young boy of 6 was working
his day job as a shoeshine boy. His earnings were probably less than
a $1 a day. However, it was often enough for him to run home and take
his three-year-old brother to the local diner for coffee which
probably cost the two young brothers a dime.
It’s
hard to imagine two children on the streets of any city today. But in
1944 the world was a different place. The father of these boys was a
Naval fireman on a ship somewhere in the South Pacific and their
mother was working herself. The young shoeshine boy was earning an
income and caring for his sibling the best way he knew how by taking
him to a local diner to find adult company, security, and probably an
occasional free treat from a friendly waitress.
That
six-year-old was my father. Who I recently lost at 83 years
of
age. He was still working and still drinking coffee with those he
cared about at the local country store where he found the security of
being with others and probably an occasional free treat from the
friendly lady who owns the store.
The
day my father died I became suddenly wiser in ways I never expected.
Although he has left me, he continues to teach me through his actions
and now through the words of others. These are some of the lessons I
learned from the shoeshine boy:
Real
mentors mentor others by giving of themselves:
Many people reached out to share that my dad had spent meaningful
time with them. One person told me he shot his first deer with my
father and he recalls my dad was happier than he was. My son relayed
a story that my dad taught him responsibility by always reminding him
to close the gate when entering the livestock pastures on his ranch.
These are two of the many meaningful stories I heard about his
influence on others. In the month since I said goodbye to my father
he taught me that the best mentors don’t necessarily sit in an
office or charge high hourly rates or hold Georgetown degrees.
Hard
work keeps you young:
My father worked almost every day of his life, including the day
before he died. He spent that day chopping firewood with my nephew
and he loved it. When he was a teenager my father would get
up
before school, milk cows, deliver the milk to a local creamery, drive
home and get ready for school. I imagine there were many fun things
at school he wanted to do and couldn’t because of his
responsibilities and the availability of funds. My father - the
shoeshine boy left this world a self-made man, financially secure but
he never stopped working. I’m sure he already has a list of
chores in the hereafter. Because work was fun for him everyone who
knew my dad, including me, thought he would go on forever.
Kind
people behave kindly - they don’t talk about being kind:
My father had friends I had never met. He knew people in multiple
counties around his home and he built personal relationships with
many. The common thread woven into my father’s life was
spending time talking with others. The friends he made and kept were
from childhood and there are new friends he continued to make.
Apparently, he would strike up a conversation with almost anyone and
found something interesting about each person that made them feel
special. What a gift! It is apparent I am just one of many who will
feel the pain of missing his kindness and friendship.
Parents
are the real Hero’s:
The term “American Success Story,” applies to my father.
He leaves a legacy of children and grandchildren who hold 3 Master’s
degrees, a MBA, 6 Bachelor degrees and 5 Associates degrees. My
father’s children and grandchildren have careers as executives,
managers, and business owners. We work in the business, medical,
retail, restaurant, technology and manufacturing arenas. His
descendants live in 5 States and include 3 first generation
Americans. I know my dad was proud of us - I hope he was proud of
himself as our accomplishments are a result his work ethic; it’s
in our DNA.
My
dad was a man who started life with zero advantages- a lesser man may
not have excelled. However, despite of the challenges he faced he
became an everyday hero - the best kind.
Learning
and achievement never has to stop:
My father was a life-long learner. Technology was his latest
interest. He wanted to know how to take pictures with an iPhone –
he kept in touch with us through messaging, posted on Facebook and
asked me about TikTok. I believe he got great joy from these
activities.
My
dad was a “girl dad” before anyone ever heard of a
“girl dad.” He supported equal opportunity for women as
he raised four daughters who achieved at an equal level to their male
peers through hunting, sports, carpentry and adventure. He never
spoke of limits and we became the accomplished women we are today
because he held no stereotypes and set no limitations for his
daughters. Interest and ambition were the great equalizers in his
life and ours. I am so grateful that he was curious and always open
to possibility.
These
are some of the lessons I learned from my father. As I look at this
picture of his shoeshine box from 1944, I know my sisters and I, my
sons and my siblings’ children and grandchildren are the
fortunate ones as we are the family of a Shoeshine Boy.
I'm a human resource professional living in Scranton PA. I write
to have a voice and share my thoughts. When I can make others feel
the way I did when I was capturing my thoughts on paper it makes me
feel like I may have some talent. I have no professional writing
experience.
(Unless
you
type
the
author's name
in
the subject
line
of the message
we
won't know where to send it.)
Another story by Teal
Book
Case
Home
Page
The
Preservation Foundation, Inc., A Nonprofit Book Publisher