Alex
Rudick: No Limits
Alex Rudick, my father, dreamed of being a writer. He was 16 years old
in 1929 when the stock market crashed, and when he turned 20, the unemployment
rate still hovered around 25 percent. Coming of age during the Great Depression,
he was told that writers starve, so he became a CPA. He provided for his
immediate and extended family with his business sense. My mom referred to him as
“physically handicapped” due to contracting polio as a young boy. My dad walked
using braces and a cane.
As a Dr. Spock baby, I grew up believing there were no limits to what I
could do. I needed to look no further than my dad to understand this to be
true. I learned from watching him how to be a
businessman/husband/father/brother/friend with heart. For example, I kept this
letter my dad wrote to me when I was feeling bad about not getting a promotion
at work. The letter typified his attitude that “everything in life turns out
for the best.” He believed in working towards making it happen. He lived his
life that way, and my siblings and I have embraced his attitude in the way we
choose to live our lives.
“Dear Ian,
Took me a long time
to fall asleep last night. It was not that I was worried about you and your
future. More so because I was so mad at the injustice of it. It is so hard to
understand people. You worked hard and felt an interest in the home and its
residents, while another goofs off and somehow impresses someone…
In the past, I experienced
a few injustices too when I was fired from jobs. My first experience was with
my second job in the office of a large shirt manufacturer. I was a “lucky boy:”
my salary was $8.00 per week and I was still going to school at night. In an
effort to bring back prosperity, the government raised the minimum wage to
$13.00. Rather than pay me the increase, I was told that next Friday was my
last day. I said, “No, today was my last day.” Today was Wednesday, so I was
paid only 3/5 of a week. (20 years later, they offered me the top job.)
My second firing was
in the Motor Vehicle Bureau. Our job was to inspect license applications and
compare them with last year’s to find discrepancies, if any. At the end of the
day, our work was measured, and my work was far ahead of most others’. But the
men’s room was about two blocks from my office. The state office building is
very large, and so it took me time to get there and back. One day after two
months on the job, I was called into the director’s office — a
Mrs. Harding — and she told me I was taking too much time in the men’s room.
She did not accept my explanation and fired me. This time, I did not worry
because I was on so many civil service lists, I was sure I would get another
call soon. And I did.
So all I can say is
everything in life turns out for the best. Not that it is destiny, but we can
make it come out so. You may feel a bit disappointed, but your usual optimism
will take over, and I am sure you will find what you want…
And to change the
subject: one other reason I could not fall asleep is that we play the radio in
our bedroom. They are all old songs of 50 years ago, and Mom sings along with
the radio… so how can I sleep?"
My dad taught me not to limit myself. In sharing his story, I write to
have my dad become a published author long after his death. I too wish to live
my life with no limits. Thank you, Dad.
My
Dad (and I)
We are both husband, father, brother,
relative, friend, businessman…
And if I could…
And if I could…
Live my life with the kind of love and
devotion towards Beth that my dad did towards my mom…
Then I would die a happy man.
Then I would die a happy man.
Love and nurture Jacob and Marcie in the
way my dad did Sherrie, Marilynne, Rob, and I…
Then I would die a happy man.
Then I would die a happy man.
Be the kind of brother to Sherrie,
Marilynne, and Rob that my dad was to Aunt Ethel, Uncle Mikey, and Aunt Sylvia…
Then I would die a happy man.
Then I would die a happy man.
Be the kind of relative my dad was to his
family…
Then I would die a happy man.
Then I would die a happy man.
Be the kind of friend to my friends that
my dad was to his friends…
Then I would die a happy man.
Then I would die a happy man.
Be the kind of ethical businessman my dad
was in his business dealings…
Then I would die a happy man.
Then I would die a happy man.
I dream of being the kind of man my dad was to all those he touched
with his life. I feel doubly blessed to have experienced my dad’s love and have
my own son and daughter to love and cherish. I dream of having lived my life
without regrets…
I love you, Dad, and thank you for all you have given me.
Behind this good writer is a great editor; Mark Bloom. Learn more about Mark's talents at
Why Walk When You Can Fly by Mary Chapin Carpenter
In
this world, there’s a whole lot of trouble, baby
In this world, there’s a whole lot of pain
In this world, there’s a whole lot of trouble
But a whole lot of ground to gain
In this world, there’s a whole lot of pain
In this world, there’s a whole lot of trouble
But a whole lot of ground to gain
Why
take when you could be giving
Why watch as the world goes by
It’s a hard enough life to be living
Why walk when you can fly
Why watch as the world goes by
It’s a hard enough life to be living
Why walk when you can fly
In
this world, there’s a whole lot of sorrow
In this world, there’s a whole lot of shame
In this world, there’s a whole lot of sorrow
And a whole lotta ground to gain
In this world, there’s a whole lot of shame
In this world, there’s a whole lot of sorrow
And a whole lotta ground to gain
When
you spend your whole life wishing
Wanting and wondering why
It’s a long enough life to be living
Why walk when you can fly
Wanting and wondering why
It’s a long enough life to be living
Why walk when you can fly
In
this world, there’s a whole lot of cold
In this world, there’s a whole lot of blame
In this world, you’ve a soul for a compass
And a heart for a pair of wings
In this world, there’s a whole lot of blame
In this world, you’ve a soul for a compass
And a heart for a pair of wings
There’s
a star on the far horizon
Rising bright in an azure sky
For the rest of the time that you're given
Why walk when you can fly
Rising bright in an azure sky
For the rest of the time that you're given
Why walk when you can fly
