A Salute To Wisdom
The Cliffs Notes to climbing the ladder successfully
By Ron Ciancutti
I’ve never been shy about my traditional (aka old-fashioned) values and have worn them proudly on my sleeve. I dance at weddings with my wife and daughters, but only slow numbers (otherwise I look very silly). I don’t wear sandals because I think most men have ugly feet. I love to tease and act confused around my youngest granddaughters because they squeal with laughter when I put my shoes on the wrong feet, try to dig a hole with the handle-side of the shovel, or cut my steak with a spoon. “No, no, Papa! Are you crazy?” They love correcting me and explaining to my wife how addle-brained I am. She, of course, agrees (a little too readily, I’m afraid).
Photo: © Can Stock Photo / fizkes
I always get a kick out of grandparents who tell their children or grandchildren to adjust their DVD players or undo whatever crisis they have caused with their phones. I’m right up there, too. I know enough to squeeze by, but my kids and their kids can accomplish in seconds what takes me a manual and an hour to figure out.
When I look back at my parents and grandparents, I envy how little “technical” knowledge they had or even had to have. They also had the ability to lie better, free from the instant fact-checker that most kids jump to the minute someone starts telling a story. When I tell them about a great football game or the shock of a big event, I retell the story, including my emotions. Today, someone is there to say something like, “You couldn’t have had the sun in your eyes, Papa; according to this info, it was snowing at the time.” Man, I hate that. Exaggerating for humor’s sake is my thing. I can’t even get away with something like “a million people” anymore. Someone will say, “But the stadium only holds 50,000.”
The Value Of The Climb
My grandpa was a great storyteller, but looking back, I wonder how the internet would have invalidated half of his tales. He never could have stood up to such scrutiny. Today, old-timers aren’t even allowed to BE old-timers anymore.
My grandfathers had no investment portfolio; there was no retirement plan beyond a pension. They had short-term goals that took every penny they earned. Men of respect from that era did the following:
Bought their wives the home of her dreams
Saved enough money to put the kids through college or trade school
Gave daughters a wedding that made them proud
Retired well-enough that they and their wives could be comfortable and secure.
That was about it. And that—when accomplished—in and of itself was enviable. I recognize that times have changed. Today, the goals listed above are merely the ante. IRAs and life-insurance policies are expected to be robust, though that is getting more difficult to fulfill. The bar for what is called the “basic necessities” has most certainly been raised.
When my folks moved me into a college dormitory, I had a car full of luggage that included a little black-and-white TV, a desktop stereo, various clothes, and school supplies. When my son finished decorating his dorm room 36 years later, he and his roommate had “lofted” the beds and created a living room beneath that included a large flat-screen TV, two computer desks with printers, a refrigerator, two lounge chairs, and a couch with a matching coffee table.
I’m not calling my generation better because we did without so much comfort; we were brought up to not expect so much without putting a little “skin in the game.” I worked as a waiter all through my college years. Many kids today have an emergency credit card in their pocket instead of working an extra shift so they can afford a fancy restaurant once in a while for a special date. Some young people today are born with a sense of entitlement. I can even tolerate that to a certain degree, but it’s the indifference that comes with that entitlement that gets to me. Things don’t seem to hold any value anymore.
Friends Along The Way
As I made my way through my career, many people taught me many things. Their stories were based on experience. Things they saw and the accompanying feelings. I was working as an assistant park manager with a tiny crew, so I often was assigned to work with the general labor force on the basics: garbage pickup, toilet wash-downs, tree and snow maintenance. Odd as it may seem, I look fondly on those days because the camaraderie developed on a crew is unlike any other friendships, and we laughed and joked a lot. We also cared about each other. When people are shoulder to shoulder in a truck all day, they get to know each other very well. I became particularly close to an older gentleman named John. Later, when I first met the girl who would become my wife, I was coming to work all starry-eyed and smiling. John was quick to notice and led the troops in teasing me often and well. But in our private moments, he also recommended the finest restaurants, instructed me where to buy the best chocolate, directed me to romantic videos I could rent to impress her, etc. He really helped me with style points. On one February afternoon John and I were in the break room drinking coffee; I was about to send my girlfriend Valentine’s Day flowers. I finished my order and then insisted he let me buy his wife some flowers (to be sent from him) because he had been so helpful. “No way,” he said. “If she gets flowers from me now, she’ll think I have a girlfriend and am feeling guilty.” Well, I sent them anyway and, sure enough, he got in so much hot water I thought he’d never forgive me. In the end, I confessed the whole thing to her on the phone, but as years passed and my girlfriend became my wife, we spent many happy times with John and his wife.
Time marched forward, my wife and I were busy raising a family, and John and I lost touch. Christmas cards came and went, and he called now and then to talk about his wife’s health or his daughter’s accomplishments.
When I retired in 2019, I went through many old papers and notes, and found myself reaching out to many of those folks who had touched my life during 37 years in the leisure industry. People who knew my stories and shaped my life, not because of their accuracy like one gets from the internet or from up-to-the-minute news. They were simply people who shared my life, who knew me when I wasn’t so sure -and wise.
John passed on in 2018; his wife Mary preceded him in 2016.When I heard the news, I felt a small gasp deep in my throat. I stifled it. I heard my wife’s deep breathing next to me as she slept. I closed the laptop and slipped out of bed and went down the stairs. A few embers still glowed in the fireplace, and I opened the screen to enjoy the last of the heat. I poured a short glass of bourbon (neat, like John and I always drank it) and toasted my old friend. I should have stayed in touch. I should have been there when Mary passed on. But I wasn’t. And in the midnight hours of that random Friday night, I sobbed at the passing of what could only be described as the dearest of friends.
Children and young adults, please embrace technology because you will need it to be competitive in the future, but take the time to listen to the old stories, the ones people believed made them men and women of honor and value; appreciate those who helped you get where you are.
Ron Ciancutti worked in the parks and recreation industry since he was 16 years old, covering everything from maintenance, operations, engineering, surveying, park management, design, planning, recreation, and finance. He is now retired. He holds a B.S. in Business from Bowling Green State University and an M.B.A. from Baldwin Wallace University. He is not on Facebook, but he can be reached at ron@northstarpubs.com.