A Father's Voice
Some voices never leave you
When did you last hear your father’s voice in your head?
I hear mine regularly.
Work hard. Do whatever must be done to provide.
My father lived those words every single day. He worked his entire career at Otis Elevator and co-owned a taxi cab business on the side. Every morning he loaded us up — neighborhood kids included — and dropped us at school on his way to work. Just part of the routine.
His evening routine never wavered — home by 5, catch in the driveway if time allowed, a 30-minute power nap on the couch, dinner, then down to the taxi business by 7. Home at 11:30 with donuts and the next day’s paper.
And every night I came downstairs just to sit with him.
He was athletic. A natural leader in our family. And I never had to wonder if he loved us — because he told us.
He died at 49. I was 17. But I have no regrets about what was left unsaid — because every night I came downstairs, I was already telling him.
But I won’t pretend I haven’t missed his voice. Through every decision, every crossroad, every hard season life handed me — I wished I had those 11:30 donut and newspaper moments to process it all with him.
What he left me was simple and non-negotiable: you show up. You do whatever it takes to provide. You don’t announce it, you don’t complain about it — you just do it. Every day.
I’ve tried to live that way ever since.
We all carry our father’s voice. Many of us are just afraid to admit it.
Still measuring ourselves against it. Still trying to make him proud. That’s not weakness. That’s the foundation doing exactly what it was built to do.
On this Father’s Day — whatever your father’s voice sounds like in your head — I hope it steadies you the way mine steadies me.