An Attitude of Gratitude

  I get a lot of mail. Most of it is garbage, too much of it is bills, and on a rare occasion I get a letter from an old friend that makes sifting through the pile worth the effort. This past week I was fortunate to find a small card in a rather large pile of mail. In that small card contained some of the most meaningful words that have ever been sent to me, and it has taken me a few days to fully absorb the content. It was in the form of a Thank You Note, but it's significance extends well beyond those feelings. I will attempt to share some of those sentiments here, not in an attempt to build myself up for you good folks but more so to illustrate how our interactions with each other can be so important. Especially when love is involved.

 The Monday after Easter brought incredibly sad and difficult news. My partner in our NY business, Chef Dan, had passed away suddenly and unexpectedly. At his funeral his beautiful wife and three daughters eulogized him perfectly, I will not attempt to do that here. I will say that he was an extremely warm and well loved individual and the news of his passing at only 54 hit many people, including myself, very hard. To know Dan was to love him, just one of the sweetest guys you'd ever want to meet. He was also the man, along with my father, who defined to me what a hard day of work was really all about. And he taught that same lesson to literally hundreds of young people in our 15 years of working together, many of them high school students working their first job. He was a shining example of old fashioned work ethic, his actions taught those youngsters as much as his words did. It was impossible not to see that you were in the presence of a special person. And his effect on people is still being felt. Which brings me back to that small card in the mail.

 Paul was a typical hire for me, a really nice 16 year old from a great Irish family of 6 or 7 kids, can't recall exactly. His parents had taught him old school values, from working hard to being polite and honest, so he came to our shop with a great head start. His older sisters were customers that I had become friendly with, and I knew that if he was anything like them we would get along fine. He began like they usually do, washing dishes and mopping floors. He would grow into a solid deli counter man, and we would begin to add more and more responsibilities to his job. If it was Chef Dan's job in our shop to teach them how to work hard, it was my job to insist that they do. And at times that has brought me to bang my head with an employee or two, pushing them to work a little harder than they might on their own. And so I would certainly push Paul, maybe a tad harder than he appreciated. One day it came to a head.

          "Dave, me and the rest of the high school crew would like to have a sit down with you."

 I had never heard those words before, not from adults and certainly not from a group of high school kids. I could see he was upset, so after a very busy Sunday we closed the doors and aired it out. The group had obviously been planning this, and they were coherent and concise in their points. And they were right. I had been riding them too hard. They needed more Dan and less Dave, and that was fine with me. After about an hour we reached a deal. I would lighten up on them if they would do the things I felt they were slacking on. Within days it became apparent that each side would live up to their end of this bargain. They would continue to work together for another couple of years before three of them left for college and one for the Air Force. Dan and I would enjoy our time with this group immensely, and for the most part they have stayed in touch with me. One even married my nephew, but that's another story for another day. Keeping in touch today is mostly on computer, so when I saw a hand written note from  Paul Sullivan I was excited.

 Paul had gone on to college, started out in the usual way. Soon though he knew his calling was in his faith, and he would go on to school to become a priest. He worked with extremely poor people in Mexico, and now has a Parish in South Phoenix Arizona. Today he continues to help those in need, and is actually mentoring young people who are considering Seminary School. I had not heard from him in about 5 years, and his letter started on a sad note...

                           "So sorry to hear the sad news about Chef Dan."

 Paul would go on to list the many ways he felt Dan & I had taught and inspired him. He joked that when people ask him how he has the patience to deal with all the issues a priest has to deal with, his standard reply is "I worked at a New York Deli." He wishes that his aspiring priests would spend some time with that type of experience, that working for us in NY was actually good preparation for the life he would follow. He went on to say that he had wished he had gotten the chance to thank Chef Dan while he was alive, and that was why he wanted to reach out to me. I never could have imagined that the lessons Dan & I were trying to teach young employees way back when would stick so well, or that nearly 25 years after buttering his last bagel that Father Sullivan would still look back fondly on our time together. But maybe that is the lesson in all of this, just how important our interactions with each other really are. Perhaps this is why we need to seize every day, to hug those close to us. Paul told me he had a "Calling to Gratitude." I myself am so grateful for the people in my life, including those we have said goodbye to. I only pray that Chef could hear the words of gratitude. They come from me as well as Paul, and every other young person he was able to teach. I try to honor him by being more Dan than Dave with my current group. They have Paul and his crew to thank for that.