My dad passed away a year ago today.  He was a great guy, and I miss him a lot.  I'd like to share this story with you.

Dad retired from his post as manager of information systems for the city of Wauwatosa almost 3 years before he passed away. He had worked there for over 25 years. The day before his funeral I spoke to Tom, the man who took over his position. My dad had hired Tom about 14 years ago. When Tom had been there a little less than a year, he approached Dad with a personal issue.

"Ron," he said, "I wonder if you can help me out. I've got two sons. My oldest is a great student, popular, and quite athletic. He plays many sports and has won many awards and trophies."

"My younger son isn't as gifted. He's average, not athletic, a little pudgy, and basically lives in the shadow of his older brother."

"He's in scouts, and they have this Pinewood Derby race coming up, and I really want to help him do well with it, to help him get a sense of accomplishment and have something to be proud of. The problem is, I don't know squat about building anything, much less a Pinewood Derby car. Can you help me out?"

Now Dad didn't know anything about building them either, but agreed he would help, and they set out to the store, where they dropped around a hundred bucks on materials, and also acquired an official Pinewood Derby rulebook.

For purposes of testing the cars they were going to make, Dad built an official PD track - completely to spec - 32 feet long, with 4 lanes. He had the boy draw out the designs of the cars he wanted, Dad rough cut them, and the kid sanded and painted them all the way he wanted.

Then Dad really got to work.

He found a book on tricking out Pinewood Derby cars. Tom said he utilized every trick in the book on the various cars they built. Dad spent hours at his kitchen table, grinding and polishing axles to perfection. Since neither of their houses or garages were big enough to hold the track, and it was the middle of winter, Dad hauled it over to the city hall maintenance garage on a sunday, and the three of them tested the cars to determine which one the kid would race.

As Tom was telling me this, his voice got a little higher, and tears starting forming in his eyes. He said, "I couldn't believe how this man, who was busy with so many projects of his own, including renovating his house, took so much time, and put so much effort into helping me and my kid. We weren't great friends or anything - he was just a genuinely nice guy with a huge heart."

"All he ever asked for in return was that he be invited to watch the race."

So, on the morning of the race, Dad and Jackie met Tom and his wife at the school. They sat together and watched as that average, pudgy 9-year-old kicked everyone's butt, and walked away with the biggest trophy - an enormous thing.

Afterward, the scout masters running the event approached Tom, and said they needed someone to judge the competition for best looking car, etc.  Motioning to Dad, they said "Would your father be interested in doing it?".  Tom broke into a huge grin, threw his arm around Dad, and said "What do you say, Dad?"  Dad wasn't that much older than Tom - his face reddened, but he did it graciously.

If I only turn out to be half the man that Dad was, I'd call that a good life.