Making the most of change
Seasons change, and so do many things we cherish. Things that create memories. Memories that force a subconscious smile when we recall them and, I assume, create a healthier physical and psychological us.
When I read the iconic Brass Rail was closing, it made me pause in disbelief, and I began recollecting old memories. I was immediately brought back to a warm summer’s night. My dad waiting with the windows down in the car listening to the crackling sound of faraway lightning on the car radio, focused on that night’s Phillies game. I’d run into the back of “The Rail” and pick up a little culinary heaven. Or, in the winter months, going into the front Hamilton Street entrance for some delicious sandwiches.
Back then, it seemed the same people worked at all our local favorites. You knew them, you knew how hard they worked, how rich they weren’t, and deep down, you respected their dedicated reliability, night in and night out.
They’d take orders on the ever-ringing phone as they filled the waiting customers’ orders. They’d fill even more order slips that the bartenders would leave from hungry customers. It was such a simple system, and everyone patiently waited for their food because they knew the system. I would take a quick peek in the bar and dining areas to see who I knew. The joyous crowd noise, the alluring food odors, and the banging spatula chopping up the smoldering meat just made you know all is well and life is good in that moment.
It got me thinking about things that change in life and what invariably replaces them. Things we hate to see go, but what thankfully takes their place.
My mom and dad: I wouldn’t say I had a super close, “go fishing or long talks over meals” relationship with my parents. With seven crazy kids packed in our home, you didn’t get much alone time. In typical old-school fashion, my dad worked a lot, and my mom was very busy taking care of things at home. But I knew they were dedicated to having a roof over our heads, food on the table, and any “luxury” they could afford. I miss them and the solid, grind-itout work ethic they passed on.
But my granddaughters have filled that void. Their happy, fun-loving personalities light up a room. Every time they greet me with “Papa Tony!” it gives a reason to get out of bed and build a future. Loss of parents, the addition of grandkids; it’s life’s cycle.
Our downtowns: I think of the past major department stores in downtowns across America. Locally, we had the nationally recognized, hugely impressive Hess’s in Allentown. There was Orr’s in Bethlehem and Easton. Heck, even small towns like Northampton had Lerner’s Department Store. These monuments to the past had an immense inventory of all kinds of goods, great casual restaurants, and made our downtowns virtual wonderlands.
Today we have smaller boutique retailers. First-generation restaurants serving Indian, Thai, Mediterranean, Asian foods, and more. First-class event centers, revived historic hotels, and resurrected theaters. Our downtowns are revival miracles. Hard hit in the latter part of the 20th century, they fought back with some serious commercial success.
My mentors: I’ve had some great mentors in my life. Being a little light on education, their teaching got me caught up real fast. Entrepreneurs like Elmer Gates, Ray Holland and more. Hugely successful, brilliant, big personalities that shared their ideas and, as a result, educated me in so many ways. Elmer and Ray have left this earth, but they passed on knowledge, and to my credit, I was all ears any time they were anxious to impart it.
Who filled that gap? The many ultrabright, positive-energy young people now working at The Chamber. It takes dedicated effort, but it’s hugely enjoyable “coaching them up” and watching them grow. They’re bright and good people, and I’m better for having been around them.
You have to manage people differently today, and I love both the challenge and the opportunity it brings. I actually pray that I show strength of leadership with an equal measure of love. This COVID era requires creative leadership, and you better be open to improvement and new ideas, or you’re toast.
So, time marches on, and maybe I’m in
a reflective mood, having just turned 70 last week.
Looking back, I’ve had a wonderful life. It hasn’t been perfect, it was a bit like an up-and-down roller coaster ride. But I wouldn’t trade any of it. I’ve still got enough energy to accomplish more. I won’t overstay my welcome, but I plan to close out big with the knowledge of a seasoned veteran.
This community gave big to me, and until I’m like a baseball player who dropped 30 points in his batting average, I’m still swinging for the fences!
Oh yeah, and I will go for one last cheesesteak. When I’m done, I’ll smile reminiscing the wonderful past, and then shift my focus on the future. Because life marches on.