Honesty, Loyalty and Steak

So when I was a kid, we ate steaks as snacks. This almost got me suspended from school, but its true. Just ask my Dad.

I barely remember the scenario, but one of my grade-school teachers was telling some story and, to make a point, said something about, “Imagine you’re having some really great meal like steak.” My immediate reaction, which I said out loud, was, “Ugh, I hate steak. That’s all we ever have to eat.” But we had steak so often that I really was sick of it. Sue me.

For some reason, this annoyed my teacher. She was sure I was making it up, trying to pretend I was rich or something? I dunno. I didn’t see the problem, and had no idea that steak was special or out of reach of some budgets or any of that. All I knew is that 40 lb boxes of frozen steaks came home with my dad every couple of weeks, and whenever I said, “I’m hungry,” my mom would say, “Have a steak.”

Now, granted, as a kid I was obnoxious and at times downright disruptive in school. The kind of kid they claim “Just wants attention.” But when challenged on the validity of my statement, I did not back down which was seen as insubordination of something. I was sent out to sit in the hall, the penalty box of the game called public school, and the teacher made a point of pursuing it by calling my parents.

Later that evening, she called and reached my dad, who just happened to be home and awake during his 4 hour layover between his 2 jobs. She informed my dad that I was some sort of disruptive compulsive liar and recounted the story of how I insisted we had so many steaks at home that we ate them as snacks. She was just sure my dad would object to my claim that we had steak constantly, if she could just share the story. With my dad. The butcher.

Okay, technically, meatcutter. My dad ran the meat department at a large grocery store in a poor neighborhood, and often more expensive cuts of meat would fail to sell by their expiration date. With a wife and four kids at home to feed, he had a habit of placing them in the freezer, in the empty boxes 40 lbs of chicken were shipped in, and when the box was full it was secreted away to the trunk of his car and brought home.

My dad was a no-nonsense guy; a trait I inherited. He did not have the time to address unfounded accusations about his kid, especially in regard to something he was doing to provide for his family. He had my back, and I’m sure his wrath discouraged the teacher from making frivolous future allegations. If you call, you’d better have something serious.

For all the times I didn’t deserve the benefit of the doubt, I usually got it. My dad was protective of his family in a kind of old-school way. I could rely on his loyalty, so long as I didn’t abuse the privilege. I knew this and honored his trust by disclosing to him, sometimes privately, when I was guilty of some accusation. I respected this principle of advocacy.

In my adult life, I met a man with the same sort of loyalty, sensible approach to life, and strong provider impulse. So I married him. (Okay, we never really got married. It wasn’t available to us back then.) Once, someone approached him with a scathing accusation about me, which happened to be true. His response, Bob’s response, to this charge was, “Say what you want about Jeff; I choose him over you.” More impressive, I learned about this from a third party. Bob didn’t mention it to me. Now that’s loyalty.

I learned the value of loyalty, of trust, from these men. I value this lesson. Oh, and I didn’t get suspended over the steak thing. Thanks, Dad.