Father now gone, but far from forgotten
Advertisement
Read this article for free:
or
Already have an account? Log in here »
To continue reading, please subscribe:
Digital Subscription
One year of digital access for only $205*
- Enjoy unlimited reading on winnipegfreepress.com
- Read the E-Edition, our digital replica newspaper
- Access News Break, our award-winning app
- Play interactive puzzles
*First annual payment billed as $205.00 + GST for one year. This annual subscription will automatically renew at $233.00 + GST every 52 weeks (10% off the regular annual price of $259.35). Offer available to new and qualified returning subscribers only. Cancel any time.
To continue reading, please subscribe:
Add Free Press access to your Brandon Sun subscription for only an additional
$1 for the first 4 weeks*
- Enjoy unlimited reading on winnipegfreepress.com
- Read the E-Edition, our digital replica newspaper
- Access News Break, our award-winning app
- Play interactive puzzles
*Your next Brandon Sun subscription payment will increase by $1.00 and you will be charged $17.95 plus GST for four weeks. After four weeks, your payment will increase to $24.95 plus GST every four weeks.
Read unlimited articles for free today:
or
Already have an account? Log in here »
Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 17/06/2023 (1204 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.
“Any fool can have a child. That doesn’t make you a father. It’s the courage to raise a child that makes you a father.” — Former U.S. president, author, husband and father, Barack Obama
Tomorrow is Father’s Day. If you are a father who wants to read about how men are not respected anymore by movie makers and educators, and woke liberals, please take your male eyeballs to a different page. It’s not that I’m untrained in creating messages that can make men angry and create a human target for them to be angry with. But I think most of you know, the inspiration of one very special person gives my life meaning. An angry message would never be something he would read on Father’s Day.
I lived my early childhood years in Mike Adler’s little tailor shop. I spend the winter of my life inside my memories of the safest, warmest, gentlest place I have ever known. If Pa were alive today, he would be 100. This column in the newspaper of record in my adopted hometown is a Father’s Day card for Mike Adler and every father who has ever loved his child and was fully devoted to the child’s mother.
Jorge Royan photo
A vintage Singer sewing machine. Charles Adler’s father, Mike, used a Singer machine at his tailor shop.
Pa, you taught me everything I needed to know about how to serve customers, the people who put food on our table, and heat for our home.
You taught me to not just serve the customers, but to super-serve them. It wasn’t just about picking up and delivering clothes that needed fixing or cleaning. It was also about picking up other odds and ends they needed, like groceries, pizza, or Chinese food. They paid for all of it in cash and they gave me big tips. Those customers made it impossible for me to develop what you and grandma called the worst of all diseases — envy.
I didn’t envy our rich customers, Pa. I didn’t get distracted by their big homes, fancy cars, furs and jewelry. I super-served them and that was the best investment I ever made in getting to know that customers who get the best service, deliver the greatest benefit to any professional, no matter what their trade — loyalty.
Pa, when it comes to loyalty, you wrote the book. It was impossible for me not to notice how affectionate your customers were — especially our female customers. They trusted you. They felt you were the most honest man they knew. But I never ever saw you take advantage of their trust. I never even saw a hint of flirting. You never tried to exploit their warm feelings toward the man they trusted to fit them and dress them.
My child’s eyes couldn’t help but notice that you made many of them feel more confident the moment they slipped on their clothes that fit better and looked better after you worked your magic with your Singer sewing machine. You never called a customer beautiful. But it was clear that you made many feel that way. There was only one woman you called beautiful. And that was Mum. Despite all the hard times, you never forgot to remind her how she was the beautiful woman in the world.
Pa, your devotion to Mum, taught me a lot about loyalty. But it was also a lesson in honesty and humility. I always thought of you as my hero because you put me in that backpack when I was two and carried me out of the country we were born in. Despite the chaos, the violence, and the danger, you carried me away from it all, and gave me a chance at a good life in what you called our promised land — Canada.
While I could never feel thankful enough for what you did, you never ceased to remind me that while you rescued me from tyranny, it was the most beautiful woman in the world who convinced you to do it. Mum was the one who put me in that backpack. She was the mastermind, our strategist, our lookout — our compass for the most important journey of our lives. You never pretended that your heroism was all about you.
Pa, you taught me that the best father in the world was someone who adored, and respected the mother of his child. Happy Father’s Day, Pa. And Happy Father’s Day to all the Mike Adlers — treasuring their love and loyalty to family.
Charles Adler is a longtime political commenter and podcaster. charles@charlesadler.com