Right Back Where We Started, Work as Creativity, and “Are You Coming In Today?”

The windshield wipers on our Honda Accord pulsed in rhythmic fashion, clearing a heavy rain from the glass as my wife and I were navigating a roundabout near Hyannis airport.

We were on the hunt for a new place to go, a French bakery near the airport that was said to offer an elevated almond croissant. So, off we went.

It was enough of a challenge to drive in the rain, but it seemed the entire landscape of Barnstable County was replacing sewers, so my challenge was also littered with road closures, construction equipment, and various debris.

As the rain came down harder, my wife quipped, “Well, we’re right back where we started!”

Where we started was 32 years ago as a couple dating, on our first trip to Cape Cod. We happened to pick a week with so much rain that Noah’s ark would’ve begun planning stages.

Did we care? Not really. We were dating, had a hotel room with a sweet fireplace, and were within a stone’s throw of a wine store. We survived.

From that point on, many summer weeks were spent on the Cape. As newlyweds, as parents, we didn’t miss many opportunities. Even during a pandemic year, we weren’t breaking the streak.

As a toddler, my daughter realized she had a disdain for the feeling of sand on her feet, but she toughed it out. At that age, our son rocketed down that sandy beach, running at such a pace that his father couldn’t catch him. What we did catch was a glimpse of his future as an elite runner.

As teenagers and young adults, they still loved those beach vacations with Mom and Dad. The four of us always had fun on the drive over, and it was always the four of us on the beach together.

Now, they’re adults with lives on the move – one, helping so many clients with their mental health challenges, making our world a better place. The other, teaching other humans how to run fast and win the races of their lives.

They can rarely vacation with us now. But, when we see young couples on the beach, with their young ones in tow, we remember.

Now, it’s usually just the two of us. Right back where we started. In the Cape, watching a driving rain dance off the window of a French bakery.

We never did get that almond croissant (sold out), so we got an order of chargrilled oysters instead. That, and another trip with a boatload of memories.

************************

“Do we need more creators?”

That was the question posed in an article by GQ culture columnist Chris Black, in response to a 60 Minutes interview with music producer Rick Rubin.

He went on to say (edited for the purpose of brevity):

“Is creativity for everyone? Is it something that can be learned? I’m not sure, but I am sure that everyone doesn’t need to be creative. We have enough creative directors and photographers to last us a lifetime. The memes tell us we need more electricians and less “creators.”

I have always been jealous of people who are good with numbers and spreadsheets. It is a tangible and viable skill. Doctors, lawyers, accountants, and plumbers are all admirable professions.

But because of social media and idea peddlers like music super producer Rick Rubin, young people who just want to film themselves getting dressed and drinking out of Stanley mugs can think of themselves as “creatives.” Meanwhile, there is no shame in being an Excel wizard or a physician’s assistant.

Not everyone is meant to be creative, and that is okay. We should all be proud of what we do.”

Black’s article got me thinking of my grandfather Sebastian who, while solely working with his hands, was absolutely a very creative man. He could do so many things with those hands of stone, and with them, created a life here in America and a pathway to success for future generations that he could never have done in his original home of Calabria, Italy.

In my mind, setting up your descendants with an easier path is the highest form of creative work. One that not many accomplish.

He was a true renaissance man – laborer, factory worker, bartender, hotel manager, among others. My generation owes him a debt of gratitude that we can never repay.

***********************

“Are you coming in today?”

It’s the phrase that entered back into my mind as I was discussing happy things with my cousin Anthony at our weekly cousins’ breakfast. He’s about to become a grandfather in September (two times over: twins!), and the subject of paternity leave came up.

(PSA: if you are not sharing a meal once a week with 10 or 12 of your closest relatives, you know not what you’re missing!)

Paternity leave (otherwise known as the Family & Medical Leave Act) is a fairly new offering in corporate America, that gives new fathers up to six months off after the birth of a child. I joked that, back in 1995, I was lucky to get any time.

Being a cog in our family’s restaurant, a small business to be sure, I told him that soon after my daughter was born I’m positive I heard, in a phone conversation, “Are you coming in today?”

In the small business realm, there was no paternity leave. With long hours being the norm in a restaurant, I had to steal moments with my newborn when I could.

Nowadays, I watch younger colleagues in my current job take weeks of leave as their children are born, to help their wives and form those early bonds with newborns that some may say are most critical.

Paternity leave for new fathers makes life easier, no question.

Reading this, you may think I’m a little jealous of the younger generation that can take advantage of such a perk. Yes, I think of what could have been.

But, I have another take.

My children were both born in a time where doing difficult things, and making difficult choices, was commonplace. I actually relished the opportunity to meet a challenge, and I knew my challenges were nothing compared to, say, what my great grandmother faced.

“Are you coming in today?”

Yeah, I’ll be in. I need a few minutes. I’m going to hold my daughter, for just a little bit longer.

Thanks to my cousin, Anthony Prezio, for the nudge to include segment three of this post, and happy birthday month to our daughter, Gabrielle, of whom we couldn’t be more proud.

If you liked this article, please share on your favorite social media channel. For additional articles, see the related content below.