Guest Blogger: David Magayna. A Lesson Learned From My Father

Saturday—Jeff

 

Our guest blogger this Saturday is Dave Magayna, a gifted reviewer, dedicated two-time Chair of Bouchercon, and a solid friend to all in our mystery community. Dave grew up in a small coal mining town along the Monongahela River in Southwestern Pennsylvania, just south of my hometown of Pittsburgh. His life reads like a Tom Clancy meets Ian Fleming adventure.

 

Dave began his career building the vital sensors used by the US Navy in submarine and anti-submarine warfare (towed-array sonar systems).  Think “Hunt for Red October.”  Next, he supported spacecraft launches for NASA, including the joint US-USSR Apollo-Soyuz Mission (think “Moonraker”), moving on to fly various aircraft simulators, including the A-10 and F-14, for yet undisclosed purposes (though he claims because no one would trust him with the real thing).

 

Dave withdrew from that life to (allegedly) pursue various mild-mannered roles in the computer industry, ultimately culminating in a decades long career as an Investment Advisor.  It is significant to note that Dave’s positions allowed him to visit all 50 states, placing special emphasis on locales in which many of his favorite authors set their adventures. What I’ve always wondered is which came first…Dave’s visits, or the events that inspired the writers?

 

But there’s no mystery about what Dave’s blog is about. It is simple, down-to-earth advice gained long ago from his father; advice that’s helped him help himself and others endure the toughest of times. I agree wholeheartedly with the advice…though not necessarily with his recipe for Cabbage Rolls .

 

That's Dave on the left

Acknowledging Lives Lost.

 

            Over the past year, many of us have suffered the loss of a loved one. Whether from the Covid-19 pandemic, cancer, or an incident of personal tragedy, these losses have inflicted terrible misery on us, our families, and our friends. We, you and I, can offer support that keeps those lives immediate and valued for our friends brought low by loss. This was one of the greatest lessons I learned from my dad.

I was born a mutt of Europe. My mother’s parents were German and Irish. My father’s parents were Polish and Slovenian (For the geographically challenged, this is not part of the former Czechoslovakia, but the northwestern most part of the former Yugoslavia. See map insert).

 

This ethnic combination didn’t promise a diet of the most scintillating foods the world has ever known. However, it did provide for substantial foods that fed the hardworking coal miners and steelworkers employed around the Pittsburgh area where I grew up. (For a great recipe for the classic polish Cabbage Roll dish, Golapki (pronounced Holumpkee), click here.)

 

It was the Slovenian part of me from which I derived one of my greater influences. My father was a member of the Slovene National Benefit Society (SNPJ or Slovenska Narodna Podporna Jednota), a fraternal organization offering modest burial and health indemnity insurance to its members. My dad was a local lodge secretary for 42 years and processed the small premium payments he collected from the members. Often, the members stopped by our house to make their payments. Many were, or became, friends to my dad, and so to our family too. They often joined us for dinner or an afternoon cup of coffee or glass of beer.

Whenever an insured died, someone in their family would call my dad to utilize the burial policy. This was almost always a trigger for my dad to pull out his suit and tie and prepare to attend a viewing and the funeral. It became common for the family to also enlist my dad as a pall bearer. I asked my dad once if this didn’t weigh on him, attending so many funerals and dealing with the bereaved families. It led to one of the deepest conversations I ever shared with him.

Dad told me he was proud that the families valued him as a close friend who would do them this service. Most looked at it as a gesture of friendship and respect for their lost loved one. I said it would be strange trying to think up something different to say that wouldn’t sound stupid or forced. He told me it wasn’t really what you said, but how you said it. He said people know when you’re being genuine and sincere. They are inclined to appreciate any statement of condolence if it’s offered in an honest and heartfelt manner. He said it always helped if you had some memory or experience of their loved one to share with them, but the most important thing was to be there for them. I’ve never forgotten that.

Being there for someone doesn’t always mean you have to physically be with them, especially when distance or something like the pandemic makes it impractical. You can send a personal note in a card, give them a brief phone call, or make a donation in the deceased’s name to a favorite charity. Your gesture will be remembered long after.

If you do go to the viewing or service though, I believe you should make an effort to look your best, or at least your better. I understand our society has assumed a casualness in almost every aspect of life. I’m just not sure it should carry over to this saddest of times. I see people attend viewings and it looks like they dressed to shop at a convenience store. When it comes to showing your respect, show that you took some effort. Personally, I follow my dad’s model and put on a suit and tie. Going to that extra effort will be remembered long afterwards too.

Howsoever you show your respects, remember you’re honoring someone who was a living and breathing person. Acknowledge their life, their spirit, the joys and laughter they brought to their friends and family.

Once we’re gone, we have no control how we’ll be acknowledged, but since I have you here… If I’m gone before you, play a couple songs for me and I’m sure I’ll feel your gesture. John Prine’s “Please Don’t Bury Me” and Monty Python’s Eric Idle singing “Always Look on the Bright Side of Life” always make me laugh. Have a last laugh with me.

Thanks Dave. As an added bonus, here’s a list of Dave’s recent eclectic reads:

“The End of Your Life Book Club,” by Will Schwalbe

“A Thousand Ships,” by Natalie Haynes. Audio narration by Natalie Haynes

“Golden in Death,” by J.D. Robb. Audio narration by Susan Ericksen

“Judgement of Paris: California vs. France and the Historic 1776 Paris Tasting That Revolutionized Wine,” by George M. Taber

“Olive Kitteridge,” by Elizabeth Strout

“The Fire Next Time,” by James Baldwin

“Norse Mythology,” by Neil Gaiman

 

–Jeff