My father grew up above The Hoxie tavern, where his own father bartended. In those days, Peoria’s Southside was a microcosm of Chicago’s South Side. As kids, he and his diverse crowd hung out on front stoops, played stickball in the streets, rode bikes to the railroad tracks and jumped boxcars.

In high school, Dad was a natural and charismatic leader. He was elected class president, student council president and was captain of the football, basketball and baseball teams. He was scouted by the Cubs his senior year. He did a two-year stint in the Army and completed three years of college, on the G.I. Bill. He married Mom, just shy of his 21st. birthday.

He was a lifelong CAT man, thus his blood ran yellow. He was the first employee Caterpillar sent to New York for IBM training and he designed and implemented an intra-company FAX system during the 1950’s, effectively linking all of the worldwide plant operations. (I remember being astounded by this, when he told me shortly before his death in 2000. I had no idea that there was FAX capability in that decade.)

Dad possessed a keen mind, wonderful imagination, sardonic wit, embedded sense of right and wrong and fair play. He was responsible, honest, straight forward and sometimes, loyal to a fault. He, being married to Mom for over 50 years, most often exhibited an expression of one who is regularly bemused and perplexed.

Here are some lessons my Dad taught me. So far they have served me well:

Strive to tell the truth…all the time. Expect nothing less from those you choose to have in your life.

No one is equally talented in everything they attempt. Give it everything you’ve got and take credit for that effort, no matter the outcome.

When your find yourself in an escalating disagreement, ask for a time-out. Emotions cloud reason. When you come back to continue the discussion, insist on attacking the problem, not each other.

Pay little attention to what someone says. Pay great attention to what he/she actually does.

Character is doing the right thing, especially when no one else knows.

But the greatest lesson my Dad ever taught me began on a city bus, during my third summer. (he would have been a wise, 25 year-old)  We then lived close to Bradley University, a white, blue-collar neighborhood, removed from downtown and the area where he had spent his childhood. This particular day, Dad and I took the bus downtown and a huge, nearly blue-black skinned man took a seat near us. I had never seen a black person and his appearance was mildly frightening to toddler me. I tugged on Dad’s sleeve and asked, “What’s wrong with that man, Daddy?” “Shhhhh, darlin.’ There is nothing wrong with him. We’ll talk when we get home,” was his reply.

Once home, Dad propped me on his knees, facing him. “You know that Daddy plays baseball in the summer. What happens to Daddy when he plays ball in the sunshine?” he asked. “You get hurt…a lot!” I replied. Upon recovering his composure, he continued, “ That’s true, darlin’. But I mean, what happens to Daddy’s skin?” My response, “Your skin gets darker. Lots darker.” “Right. And I’m the very same Daddy and love you exactly as much, whether my skin is darker or lighter. Isn’t that true?” “Oh, yes, Daddy,” I agreed.” Well, darlin’ that man we saw on the bus is another little girl’s Daddy and his skin just gets a whole lot darker than mine, in the sun. He loves his little girl the same way I love you, and she loves him the same way you love me. See?”

What a powerfully simple and life-long gift for a father to bestow on his child. My father was truly color blind, having spent his youth with buddies from nearly every race and creed. From that summer day, to this day, I have made it my practice, as well, to dismiss appearance and to focus on and value heart and character.

Thank you, Daddy.