Passing the torch of friendship to you and future generations
I have been given the gift of writing excerpts of my life that might influence future family generations, hopefully helping them better negotiate their own growing lives.
We have two grandchildren and hope for more. But it is certainly difficult and worrisome that we might not be around long enough to have that influence and be able to “pass the torch.”
So, some keepsake organizations provide questions and your response, which are placed in a printed book they can read when they’re older and you have “kicked the bucket.”
It is challenging, as you must revitalize old areas of gray matter to extract forgotten memories.
One such “excerpt” came from the prying question: “What was the most important lesson learned from my father that I will pass along to future generations?”
As part of the holiday season, and with permission from my family, I write my response to our grandchildren:
My father was born in 1902 and lived through a pandemic in the early 20th century, WWI, and WWII. His life was far different than most of us might be used to.
He was the second of seven children of Italian immigrants. He attended Columbia University and was political in New York City. We moved to California in 1954, which I now believe was the result of his civil rights and union activism and persecution during the McCarthy era.
I was the second child as he was, and my father’s fondness for me accentuated our relationship.
When he bought a new car, he and I traveled to New Jersey to show his brother, my uncle Mike, the two-tone Mercury we would drive to California. That’s when I also found out I get car sick!
In LA, sometimes we would take bus adventures downtown to get authentic Italian provolone cheese. As I got older, he knew that my goal as a high schooler was to be a medical doctor, so he would take me on his visits to Metropolitan State Psychiatric Hospital to see his social work clients. As he did his “house call,” I would shoot the breeze with other residents, finding that mentally, they were barely different from me and the rest of society.
My dad was outgoing, and talked to everyone. He had no fear of social interaction and a very affable personality. Once, he told me, “Everyone is friendly,” and you have to get to know them. When you first meet someone, you greet them with “Hello stranger,” and when you part, “Goodbye friend.”
We once took my older brother to LAX to fly to Philadelphia for his residency training. There waiting for the same flight was Bryant Gumbel, then on the NBC Today Show and later host of HBO’s “Real Sports,” which we all loved.
When my dad saw him, he immediately said, “I’m going to talk to him. ” Before my mom could grab his sleeve, he was sitting next to him. That conversation lasted 20 minutes, and I could see they were having a great talk. As boarding started, they shook hands and smiled, and I could read my dad’s lips: “Goodbye friend.”
Dad returned to say goodbye to my brother, stating, “We talked about Richard Nixon and his new book.”
As our dad grew older, he became increasingly immobile and drove his two-tone Mercury less. With that, isolation set in, which I know kept personal interactions minimal. He was forced to retire but took jobs talking on the phone, which was perfect for him, as he was one of the first telemarketers. (That is why I am never rude to them.)
It was in his nature to be friendly, and as a former political person, he knew how to be diplomatic in his conversations. I like to think sometimes I have had this influence because of what he passed on to me, but some of my friends might disagree. Funny because I don’t think my brothers had the same experience.
For our grandchildren, though, you must treat others with respect, even when they are strangers. I’ve tried to do this in my professional and everyday life. Respect doesn’t come from DNA or genetics but is passed down through the generations from your parents. I learned this from my father.
Goodbye friend.
Gene Dorio, M.D.
Originally posted in the KHTS News Website 1-2-2025
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