Thanks A Lot, Dad

Brandon struggled to free his keys while maintaining a grip on his mail, his leather briefcase, and his umbrella. As usual he had asked the doorman, Randy or Roodey, he could never remember exactly, to collect his mail so he could review it as he rode the elevator to the thirty-ninth floor of the Vision Condominium high-rise. Usually the mail consisted of the assorted junk mail that most people receive, but today Brandon had also received a package wrapped in brown paper.

In the elevator, Brandon had noticed the package was not postmarked and no return address was present. It simply read, "Brandon McCloud, Vision Condominium." Now his fingers seemed to fumble with as much confusion as the wheels in his head. The questions continued to roll through Brandon's mind as his loft key finally fell into the lock. He entered his loft and promptly dumped his load onto the kitchen counter.

Unexpectedly, Brandon’s phone rang. He looked and saw “Mom” on the screen. Even before he answered, Brandon knew what would come next.

“Hi, Mom,” Brandon said into the phone.

Silence. Sniffles. Then through a cracking voice, “Brandon, your father is gone. He went quietly. Maggie is here, but we need you to help us plan arrangements.”

Immediately, fifty thoughts went through his head at once: The timing couldn’t be worse, still this was expected. He wanted to help but had struggled with his dad his whole life. Now his dad was going to mess things up for him again. How much time was this going to take? Would Bairn and Jones wait for him to call about the deal or should he push through? What is that package? How long has it been that I haven’t answered?

“I’ll get there as soon as I can, Mom,” was all he said.

The questions continued to grow and swirl as Brandon changed out of his $1300 suit into a pair of khakis and a casual shirt. Then the memories began to flood his mind.

Brandon’s memories of his father were always painful. At age 5 Brandon headed for school with his sister, Maggie. Mom hugged them both goodbye and took a picture of them in their first day clothes. Dad watched. As the fear of that first day came over Brandon, he heard his dad, “Head up and walk tall, son. You’re a McCloud.” That was it. No, “I am proud” or “I love you.” Major McCloud was never one to be overly emotional, but you can bet he never let his son forget he was a McCloud.

Until Brandon was nine years old, Major McCloud was in the United States Air Force. When the Major retired, he moved his family to east New Jersey just across the river from NYC and opened an auto shop. The Major’s retirement assured the family of financial security, but every day he returned home looking and smelling like he had slugged through five hundred gallons of motor oil.

At 11, Brandon wanted to be like his dad and would show up at the garage after school. Then one day everything changed. Brandon had been helping replace a tire for a regular customer when some of the kids from school came by, Kristi Potter was with them. Kristi was beautiful in every way: long auburn hair, green eyes, and a smile that could bring sunshine in a hurricane. Woody Johnson was also there. Brandon and Woody had never been friends, but when he saw Kristi smile at Brandon, Woody called out “Hey, Oil Slick. You got something on your cheek.” When Brandon instinctively wiped at his cheek, he left a big oil stain. The kids laughed. Brandon laughed too, but that was the day he stopped helping his dad.

To make things worse, in the commotion and emotion, Brandon forgot where he was on the tire and when the car was lowered one of the lug nuts fell off, the Major almost blew a gasket himself. Taking Brandon outside, the Major pointed up at the sign and said, “McCloud, that’s us. We may not be the cheapest garage in town, but by God, son, we will be the best. So, never again do I want to see you distracted from your work. Do you hear me?” Brandon did, loud and clear.

The series of memories built on that day were too many to count. When Brandon took first place in the New Jersey State Cross Country High School Championships, all he heard was, “Did you give it your best, son? McCloud’s always give their best.” When he graduated valedictorian of his class from NYU Business School, “Head up and walk tall, son. You’re a McCloud.”

Every day of his life, Brandon had tried to live up to the Major’s impossible standard, “Always give your best, son. Head up and walk tall. You’re a McCloud.” Even now as his family grieved, all he could think about was this Bairn and Jones deal, the biggest deal of his career. Was he giving his best? Would dad be proud yet? He worked like a dog day after day, but he never felt like he was enough. The job, the suits, the car, the loft, when would it be enough?

The preparations and week leading to the funeral were a whirlwind, Bairn and Jones agreed to postpone their decision until the next Monday, to give Brandon time to deal with his personal issues, but even then they seemed put out.

When the day of the funeral arrived, Brandon went through the motions in a haze. As his father’s casket was lowered into the ground, he still wondered, would he ever be enough. As the family all moved on, Brandon remained staring at the hole unable to move. From behind he heard a female voice say, “Hey Slick,” and a gentle hand touched his back.

Turning he saw Kristi, now grown into a beautiful woman, but those eyes and that hair were unmistakable. “I hate that name,” Brandon responded about his nickname that had stuck since that day in the garage.

“Really,” Kristi sounded genuinely surprised. “It always reminds me of that day in the garage when that idiot, Woody, used it the first time. That was the day, I think I fell for you.”

Brandon turned around now, completely surprised. “You fell for me?”

Kristi giggled, “You never knew?” From the look on Brandon’s face, Kristi saw he did not. “Boys can be so dense. Brandon, when I saw you standing there covered in grime, I thought ‘Now there’s a real man.’”

Brandon just stared, “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Me, a red haired girl with too many freckles? The next year I got braces and it got worse, and you . . . Well, you were busy winning meets and awards and didn’t seem the type to be distracted by a girl.”

Brandon flashed back again, he glanced back at the coffin and thought, “Thanks a lot, Dad.”

Then he turned to Kristi and took his shot, “So, what are you doing these days?”

“Oh, I work at the Youth Center on 5th Ave. and I am finishing my masters program, finally.” Kristi seemed so meek and so beautiful.

“Well, maybe we can get a drink and catch up sometime?” Brandon offered.

“Ok,” she answered hesitantly, “but no suits, you have to wear jeans and a t-shirt, just like when we were kids.”

“Sure,” Brandon answered with a smile and thought, “set a reminder to buy jeans and a t-shirt.”

Kristi reached up and kissed him on the cheek, then as she walked away, turned back, “Your Dad has my number at the garage. Call me.” Then she was gone.

By the time Brandon made it back to the loft that night, he was exhausted. Everyone talked about the Major like he was the nicest guy in the world. All through the funeral reception, people Brandon had never met and old family friends kept coming up to him and telling him of ways his father had helped them out. They also kept repeating a phrase Brandon could not bring himself to believe, “He was so proud of you.”

Now, home again, in his world of glass walls and perfectly designed furniture settings, Brandon felt out of place. Had he spent his whole life chasing a goal that he didn’t even want? Was he seeking the approval of a man, who had always approved of him?

As he stood in his kitchen sipping a glass of very expensive scotch, Brandon’s eyes fell on the package. He walked over and opened the paper. Inside was an old yellow cigar box. When he lifted the top inside he saw pictures with notes on each one in his father’s hand:

Brandon’s first day of school - I am so proud of this boy.

Father and son outside the garage - Already a heartbreaker.

Brandon on the podium at the track meet - Always a winner in my book.

Brandon giving his valedictorian speech - I am so proud. I love this boy.

Brandon broke. Pictures still in his hands, he slumped to the kitchen floor with his back to the cabinets and wept. His whole life, he had never slowed down long enough to see other people’s perspective. He had been wrong about Kristi and wrong about his dad.

How long he cried, he did not know, but eventually he rose determined to be a better man.

In the bottom of the box was a note:

“Brandon, my son,

I don’t know if I have told you, I’ve never been good at the mushy stuff, but I am so proud of you. Your whole life, no matter what others did to you, or how they tried to tear you down, you kept your head up. Every room you walk in people see you, because you walk tall.

There is one lesson I haven’t had the chance to share: Son, people are the reason for everything. Every choice we make, every decision must be to serve the people around us. Make them great, not yourself. Life is measured in relationships, son.

Thank you for being in mine.

Love,

Dad”

The tears filled Brandon’s eyes again.

The next day, Brandon made his way to McCloud Automotive Repair. Roger, the manager and only full-time mechanic, met him, “Hey Mr. McCloud.”

“Brandon, please.” Brandon answered.

“I guess you’ll want to sell the place?” Roger seemed very sad.

Brandon looked around, took in a deep breath, the smell of motor oil. “Actually, Roger, I talked to Mom and Maggie today and we would like to sell, but on two conditions: first, we will only sell to you.”

Roger’s eyes grew wide. “Mr. . . . Brandon, I don’t know if I can afford it. Your Dad has always paid me well, but this place has so many loyal customers it’s worth a lot.”

“Well, Mom seems to think you could keep the customers even without Dad.”

“If you treat ‘em right and go the extra mile like your Dad, I’m sure they would stay, but I just don’t know that I can run the place by myself, even if I could afford it.”

That brings us to the second condition, “We want to sell to you, but you have to agree to hire and train a new mechanic of our choosing.” I have the contracts, all you have to do is sign.

Brandon pulled out the contracts, the price of the garage clearly printed, “$100.” Roger was shocked, “Ok, Brandon, this is generous but who’s this mechanic I have to train?”

“Me.” Roger looked at Brandon and saw he was serious, so he signed on the dotted line.

The next evening as Brandon headed to pick up Kristi for their first date, he suddenly realized he finally felt at peace. He stopped, looked up, and said, “Thanks a lot, Dad.”

The End