At the end of June 2022, I enjoyed appearing on a couple of podcasts:
Take a listen and let me know if you enjoyed 'em, too ... or if I should shut up and stick to writing.
Joel was a master presenter.
As head of research for a major radio broadcasting company, he spent a lot of time explaining the research to people both above and below his paygrade.
When explaining complex details to folks who didn't know much about research, he would get a lot of questions. Many of them off-point or unexpectedly obtuse.
And he would handle them all smoothly with skill and confidence.
In these group sessions, nothing could throw him off his game. He had a quick and easy to understand comeback for every question asked or point of confusion brought up.
He was a rock. The iceman. Cool. Calm. Collected.
Except for this one time.
We were in San Francisco at a highly successful station.
As Joel was masterfully presenting the plan for the station’s marketing research, he touched upon the types of outreach he would be spearheading, including Mall Intercept Surveys to get immediate, in-context feedback.
A hand went up.
It was Steve M, one of the station’s incredibly popular DJs.
Steve could best be described as the stereotype ultra-chill, surfer-dude California stoner. Think Sean Penn’s character Jeff Spicoli in the movie “Fast Times at Ridgemont High”.
Steve waved his hand.
Joel said, “Yes. Steve.”
Steve said, “Is that mall like where you shop or maul like what a bear does to a camper?”
For the first time in a hundred presentations, I saw Joel's facade start to crack.
“Uh … Steve … I’m not sure what you’re asking.”
“Dude, you said ‘mall interception’ … is that like mall like where you buy stuff or like maul like what a bear does to a camper?”
Joel stifled a chuckle.
Then he realized that Steve was asking a legitimate question. At least legitimate in Steve’s mind.
Which made the question that much funnier.
“Steve, you want to know if the research we're going to do is going to take
place in a shopping mall or in a campground where a hiker is getting attacked
by a bear?”
At least that what Joel tried to say.
He could only get out a word or two at a time as he was increasingly overwhelmed by laughter.
It was the first and only time that I saw the unflappable Joel break his buttoned-up presentation demeanor.
Joel eventually regained his composure and let Steve and the rest of the room know that the research would not include the use of wild homicidal woodland creatures.
And Steve’s question became a form of communication between Joel and me. For a
year or so, I don’t think a week went by without one of us asking the other,
“Is that mall like where you shop or maul like what a bear does to a
camper?"
Joel has stage 4 pancreatic cancer.
When he called to tell me, I felt like I'd been mauled by a bear.
_________________________
Joel Reish passed 2 weeks after this was written.
The day after his 62nd birthday, 2022.
May his family find peace in their memories of him
as the truly good man he was.
My father always bought two pairs of the same shoes.
When the soles of his shoes couldn’t be patched anymore, my
dad would buy two replacement pairs. One to wear, one to be stored in their box on the floor
of the closet in my parents’ bedroom.
One day, with an exasperated, what’s-wrong-with-the-old-man
attitude, I asked my mom, “What’s with dad and the extra pair of shoes?”
I was a kid. I was expecting an explanation of why my dad
was an idiot. Not that he was an idiot, but I think I need to discover a way
that I was better than he was.
He spoke 5 languages fluently. Or was it 6? Extraordinarily
well-read and well-traveled, he was a tough target for competition for the boy who wanted to be as good if not better than he was.
My mom patiently explained, “When your father was growing up
in Europe after the war, leather shoes were hard to come by. He was lucky and had a pair. He wore
them for years, even when he outgrew them. He patched them with cardboard and anything
else he could scrounge. When he sees the new pair of shoes in the box in the
closet, it helps remind him of where he’s been and that he’ll never be there
again.”
I was young enough not to have thought about my parents
having a life before my sister and I were around. I was old enough to be impacted
by a picture of my father's childhood so different from the one he was now providing
his family.
I was also old enough to feel shame about thinking he was an
idiot for buying two pairs of the same shoes.
I grew up a little that day.
The day I scratched the surface of getting to know my
dad.
