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| 55 years of Krimski family photos. |
A week ago Thursday I lost my Dad, Jeff, to cancer. Dad grew up in Baltimore from sturdy polish stock (Pilahowski and Krimski). He was an amazing, complicated person formed by early personal trials which ignited a desire to transcend his mother’s plans for him to work at the local washing machine factory. He left home at 17, joined the air force and was stationed in Nouasseur, Morocco where he met Mom. He was 19 and she was 26. He went on to raise four children, giving us everything we’d need to become successful adults and raise our own families. His career is one of legends; a DJ at two of the countries top AM radio stations, WBZ, Boston MA and WKBW, Buffalo, NY, he constantly challenged the status quo, changing the face of radio forever and paving the way for the FM revolution. He went on to enjoy a multiple Emmy award winning career as narrator for NFL Films until throat cancer forced him into retirement. After that he enjoyed years of boating and international travel with Mom. I was privileged to go on trips to France, Egypt and cruising in the BVIs with Mom and Dad.
I recently read a story about a philosophy professor who showed his class a jar filled with golf balls. He asked the class “Is the jar full?” The class said "Yes". He then proceeded to pour pebbles, sand and water into the jar, asking each time, “Is the jar full?” Finally he explained to the class that the jar is a metaphor for our lives. The golf balls are the important stuff; family, health, passions and friends. If everything else—home, job, car— was gone and only the golf balls remained, life would still be full.
As I sat by my Dad in his last hours holding his hand and washing his brow; as I watched my Mom hold it together while she watched her husband of 55 years dieing; as everyone laughed when I felt moved to perform dopey “Gangham Style” dance moves by Dad’s bedside; and as I thought about all the months my sister Anne has devoted to the care of Mom and Dad, performing all the skills of a hospice nurse without even realizing it AND never asking for credit, all the pebbles and sand and water diminished in importance. The golf balls became larger and larger until they filled my heart with joy.
I don’t know a family who doesn’t have a jar filled with golf balls. Some are brand new—bright white and shiny. Others are stained, nicked, gouged and aged beyond use. Despite their condition they all belong in that jar. We may begin life as a beautiful bright white golf ball but we all end up less than perfect. My parents always said, “When you don’t have anyone else, you always have your family.” I’ve pondered that saying many times over the years. Watching my Dad die brought it’s meaning—forgiveness— back to me. With family, forgiveness in the face of the unforgivable takes an open heart and remembrance that the forgiver will most certainly be the forgivee at some point. We may take a golf ball out of the jar but it’s never too late too put it back.
Dad’s passing has been a life changing experience for me, rearranging my cells to reveal and renew the beauty of family and life. When I eventually get back to the day-to-day stuff will the feeling last? One can only hope. One thing’s for certain. Dad’s golf ball, with all it’s nicks and gouges, will forever remain in my jar. For Mom and siblings Anne, Peter, and Sarah your ball may come out for a few minutes but be assured, I know which drawer I put it in so it will certainly go back in the jar.
Happy Thanksgiving to all my family of golf balls who where there for me during this difficult time. I love you all. Mommy, son Emmitt & hubby Dave, Shirley, Anne & Richard, Amy, David & Tory, Maya, Peter & Amy, Max, Spencer, Sarah & Broeck, Sam, Noah, Paul, Andrew, Peter, Lisa.
Oh and don’t forget the puppies; Vera, Sailor, Dinghy, Scruffy, Mr. Bennett, Charlie, Scrappy and Silvie. WOOF!
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