Friday, June 15, 2012

Dad: The Ultimate Business Partner

My Dad died suddenly on December 5th 2011, after battling various effects from cancer and kidney surgery. I was in my late 40’s with a wife and young son. This is not an ode to my father as the greatest Dad ever, but rather a realization of what I now understand as the role of “Dad” in my life and perhaps their (our) role in society.


As I reflected on my relationship with my Dad, I was inspired to share and recount my (our) journey at his funeral. My dad was tall and distinguished, a “corporate man”, proper, polite, and cultured; some might even say a sort of “cool nerd”. He was old school in his views, yet liberal and accepting of others. In fact the most common description from those who knew him was that he was a good listener. Good in the sense that he cared what you were saying and asked questions. No matter how mundane the topic, he was very interested, almost enthusiastic when recounting the conversations he had with others.

Born during the depression, and raised by a single Mom, his story is common in America of a generation (or 2) ago. He didn’t speak of his childhood much, just enough to share some of his experiences. His generation didn’t use their upbringing as excuses for anything; their childhoods were what they made out of it or perhaps what they imagined it was. Life back then began when you became more of an adult. In the case of my dad, his memories really began when he got married, had kids and entered Corporate America. It is there where he felt he belonged the most, at least according to his own view.

But again this is not a story of a man, but the progression of a relationship with Dads.

Growing up in typical upper middle class suburbia, I guess I was as self-indulged as most kids. Parents were there to provide for their children’s needs and desires and pretty much stay out of the way.

Most of the care-giving early on was from the Mom and the Dad was the disciplinarian and lesson teacher. Back in the late 60’s and 70’s, Dads were there for the traditional male gender tasks like building a tree house, barbequing, going to a ballgame or playing catch in the back yard. My Dad was exceptionally handy, he built a full on movie theatre in our basement (by hand), with projection booth, movie seats and this was all before “home theaters” were even a concept. However, what he thrived at in the work shop he lacked in sports. Playing, watching and talking.

It is now clear to me that the early part of childhood is centered around Mother. She is the care giver, satisfying your survival needs. The activities of making dinner, grocery shopping (with boy in cart), bathing, and reading all give Moms a predominate role. As a child I was not sure about how I felt about my Dad. Sure I loved him and even respected him but young children do not bond with Dads like they do with Moms.

I am well aware that today’s generation might take issue with my stereotypical account as Dads being clearly more involved these days. However, that is not my point.

I perceived my Dad as the protector, bread winner, or a superman who would risk his life for mine. This made me feel good and secure but was not the foundation for any relationship. In fact, as I grew into my early teens I found I had continuously less in common with my Dad and very little interest to build a relationship. But it is at this time in life that the care giving from Mom was less essential, and we too drifted apart in what was natural “coming of age” in typical suburban America. As life experiences crept up on me I turned to my Dad more and more. Maybe for his wisdom, maybe it was gender identification but we began to talk more. To be clear we had very different interests. I was less accepting of his passions as they seemed boring and “un cool”. He was none the less tolerant, although a bit inquisitive of mine. He controlled the purse strings and car keys so I was at least respectful (most of the time).

In my 20’s we talked more, found some common interests, had predefined roles in the family and I saw him as a person not just my Dad. It was obvious he had life experiences that I was having. These were not revelations but the typical experiences: buying a car or condo, getting a job, and just participating in society. Subconsciously I was learning or even you might say being mentored by him. It was clear that much of what I was about to do (or do at some point) in traditional evolution of becoming an adult he had done already. Maybe well, or maybe in a way I would not mimic or even approve of, but he went through it. That knowledge is important on a psychological level. Seeing someone survive or better yet thrive gives you confidence. The presence of my Dad in retrospect was empowering.

To that extent I was very lucky, during the last several years of his life he came to my office on a regular basis, he smiled and laughed with my colleagues and offered his advice on growing and running the business. Often this frustrated me reminisant of a kid whose Dad was hanging around too long while my friends were over. In fact there would be days we barely spoke as we both focused on our own tasks. However, knowing he was there was comforting in a way I only now know.

And now that my Dad is gone and I reflect on my first father’s day without him, I really feel like an adult. It is clear I have entered a new stage in my life with yet another lesson to learn - How to live in a world without his presence.



Rob Stein is the Global Head of Asset Management for Knight Capital Group, Inc. and the Chicago based Astor Asset Management, LLC. He is the author of three books, with his latest being The Bull Inside the Bear. He lives in Chicago with his wife and young son.