Harry Shapiro left his parents and came to this country from Middle Europe when he was 14 years old, accompanied only by an aunt. He never saw his mother or father again. 

When he arrived, he had to go to work right away to support himself. He never did go to school, here or in Europe. He also had to learn English. 

Harry went into business for himself soon after landing on our shores, selling silk stockings door-to-door. He prospered. A couple of years later, he took a job as a delivery boy in a little grocery store just to learn the trade. Within twelve months he bought the store. He was now all of 16. 

He went on to open store after store. By the time he had reached his middle-20s, he was a millionaire. Ten years later he was broke. And he spent the rest of his working life as a truck driver delivering bread to grocery stores in New York City, freezing in winter and roasting in summer. But through it all he raised three sons, 2 of whom went on to earn PhD degrees. 

Now your father. I don’t know him, of course. But I’ll wager that in many ways, his story runs parallel to Harry’s. 

You know, there’s an old saying, “Don’t do as I do, but do as I say.” I never appreciated until after he died what my father had accomplished against seemingly impossible odds. Or what he had done for me while slowly being crushed by life’s adversities. I think now that a few words from me every so often along those lines would have meant a great deal to him. But I never did say anything to him about it. 

You see, I was too busy chasing after success, completely oblivious to the fact that without my father and without his many, many sacrifices, I wouldn’t even have been in the race. 

Don’t let it happen to you. Tell him now. It will be painful without end later on if you don’t. I guarantee it. 

Think about it.