My All-Time Favorite Dadvice
It’s a close call. I can’t quite decide between two pearls of wisdom from the old man. Maybe you can help. One is actually less a pearl and more a strategy for living in the world: no matter where my father is on planet earth, he can find a bathroom if he needs to pee.
My dad’s chosen lifestyle has him spending nearly all his waking hours outside of the house. He’s a city guy. He’s lived in Philadelphia his entire life. He owned a car once for about six months. He has a tiny, crappy TV that gets four channels, and he’s eaten…zero, actually, meals in his apartment. He’s a bohemian, ok?! Though it’s tempting to delve into psychoanalytic theories as to why my dad has an aversion to staying at home, all I really want to do is paint a picture of someone who isn’t home all day. If he’s not working, he’s sitting in the park or a bookstore, seeing a moving—but more than anything my dad just likes going on long walks. He’s hardly ever near his own bathroom!
I saw my dad on Thursdays and every other weekend when I was a kid, and in our constant roaming around I not only saw Philadelphia’s finest art institutions and all its hipster cafés, but learned what to do if you have to pee out in public. When you’re in transition from point A to B and you really, really have to pee and suddenly everywhere you look you see signs reading “Restrooms are for customers only!”—don’t panic. First, put on your game face. This is the key: act like you own the place. Walk inside and head straight to the back even if you don’t know for sure that the bathroom is back there. It most likely is, and you can regroup if you hit a dead in. You may pass a bartender or a hostess. Hopefully, he or she is busy chopping limes or greeting actual customers. If not, smile and nod. You don’t need their help—you’re all set. Don’t stop moving! Don’t ask a thing! 90% of the time this air of “I’ve got it covered” works.
However, it’s possible that some nerd who takes their job way too seriously will be working that day and will ask, “Can I help you?” You’ll need to whip out your “have mercy on me” face if this happens. Practice in the mirror. Grimace, scrunch your forehead and put your mouth into the shape as if you’re saying “eeeee.” Elicit pity. Show how badly you have to pee. Then say, softly, almost in a whisper, “I’m sorry—is there any way I can use your bathroom?” But look, don’t feel bad if you run into Satan’s elf and get denied. This isn’t airtight, but confidence can absolutely get you far.
Speaking of which, my dad is also famous for saying, “Do what you love, and the rest will follow”—he’s also substituted “money” for “rest” on several occasions. Quick bio of Dad: Barely graduated high school. Was too busy hanging out with David Bowie, the Kinks, and many others only those of you only familiar with nuanced “classic rock” bands. At 16, my dad started a mail-order catalog of rare and out-of-print vinyl called “Bee-Bop Records” which he ran out of his bedroom in his mother’s house. He later went on to open a record store that held its own even as iTunes came into existence. How on earth did he keep a record store open in the 21st century? Well…I think it has to do with his motto. My dad is so obsessed with music that he was able to get customers just as excited when they came into his store. His inventory was obsessive—super thorough and far-reaching. He gave Philadelphia a music buzz and was able to keep sacred the relics that were being discarded for the digital experience.
I’m a poet. I’m probably not going to sell a lot of books, even if (when!) I win a Pulitzer. (2015’s winner, Digest, by Gregory Pardlo, sold 1,500 copies before receiving its award. After the win, the publisher printed 5,000 more copies. Wooo.) But because I’ve watched my dad find success—not millions of dollars, FYI, but having a job he loves in an industry that is his entire life—I have faith that somehow I’ll be able to bring abundance into my life if I stay connected to what I love. I believe that with drive and passion I’ll find my way to a career that’s financially stable that is somehow connected to poetry. Thanks, Pop! Love ya!
What’s the best dadvice you’ve ever received?
