My Stepdad Joe

I needed a few more merit badges to finish my Eagle Scout -- and time was running out.   I was now well into high school, and well, all of the high school things were starting to get in the way of finishing this goal of my youth.  Eagle Project was finished -- this was all that was left, and I had to get it done. 

One of those last remaining bagdes was camping. 

Now I had camped a lot, but the badge requirements called for something specific:  a night of primative camping, which basically meant hiking somewhere, spending the night, and hiking back out -- outside of your typical Boy Scout group environment.

To complete this critical step, my fairly newly minted stepfather Joe and I were going to spend the night on land in North Carolina he and his brother had just bought.   My Mom would drop us off -- we'd hike the mile and a half to this spring (which at one point, had definitely been the source for some local hooch manufacturing), spend the night, and hike back out in the morning, meeting her at the agreed upon time.

This would have been 1988 (maybe 1989), before mobile phones were a thing (Joe was an early "car phone" adopter, but that was pointless in the woods) - or for that matter, the internet for reliable weather service.   If memory served me right, we embarked knowing there was a chance of rain - but once we were dropped off, that was it --- until we returned to the same spot the next day.   It was definitely a little ominous when we got out of the van, but I needed the merit badge, so off we went - my mother - her intuition in full alert mode.

As we hiked in, the weather turned ugly pretty quickly.   We could hike back and see if she had come back, but that wasn't likely -- and I needed that badge.  We kept going, and got to the spring, and in a decent rain, we set up the tent, and somehow got a fire started.  But the rain steadily got harder, eventually turning into an all out torrent of rain.   Concerned about losing our fire -- and basically our ability to cook/eat for 24 hours, Joe and I huddled over our sputtering  little fire, holding a small frying pan over it to keep the coals and some wood dry.  

Flash. Boom. Almost no interval between the two.

Wow, that was close, we both thought, saying nothing to the other, as the storm we were in crashed into a full fledged mountain thunderstorm.   There was no calling Mom to pick us up -- we were just riding it out. 

Bright light followed by an immediate Crash. 

Did he feel that -- as I looked down at the hairs on my arm, having just experienced something akin to the shock you might get from touching an exposed wire on a lamp.   Again, neither of us said anything, protecting our meager fire.

Then it hit -- I have no idea how close - but basically right on us.  I remember the whole world turning white -- then I wasn't right next to the fire anymore.  It had blown us back.  There was no question what had just happened.  

There is no guidebook for being a stepfather, and certainly the playbook didn't call for voluntarily camping in a severe mountain thunderstorm and getting struck by lightning -- but Joe did it.   Saying yes -- being there - being present was - and is, his super power. 

Joe entered his "ready made family" when I was a teenager.  Like most kids at that age, I definitely had my moments -- moments exacerbated by the fact I never completely felt comfortable in Florida as a kind after we moved from Illinois, the anxiety that came from my seizure condition, followed by my parent's divorce.   That age is hard for everyone, but there was definitely a lot going on in my young world.  There is no guidebook for being a teenage stepkid either, and I know I wasn't always fair or the easiest one.  But that never seemed to matter.  Joe always talked of winning the lottery with his new family, and I know he meant it.

Beyond being my stepfather, Joe is one of the most interesting people I've ever known.  The last of four kids, Joe grew up in a small town which would today be suburban Atlanta, went to Clemson and got a degree he never used, then ended up in the Army, managing an armored cavarly unit that was always on call, but never got deployed, to Korea.

He's a man very much impacted by growing up during World War II, most notably, driven by the principles of community and self-sacrifice for larger good.  His father was a town leader, who because of his status was eligible to receive some special dispositions from the rations of the era, but said no.   That lesson of both leading -- and being part of the community has definitely defined Joe's life.  In the times when i was a kid, I can't remember a time when he said no when his community asked -- even once running for office (and winning -- he had an OK strategist helping) a seat on a relatively obscure local taxing authority board that had lost its way and needed some business leadership.  He didn't run becauee he had the ambition for the title, but because some community fathers asked him to.  No one else would raise their hand, so he did.

I often describe him as a serial entrepreneur.  He was a stock broker in his post-Army days - retired from that.  Sold boats with his brother in Hawaii - retired from that.  Built a marina in St. Augustine - and a lake/housing community in Western North Carolina, finally retiring from all that just in the last few years.  In my entire time of knowing Joe, he's always in the process of building something -- and even today, closer to 90 than 80 -- he's still has projects under way.  

He's sailed across the Pacific, lived for a stint in both New York City and Hong Kong, stepped foot on virtually every continent, chaired every community board/church committee/fundraising drive you could ever imagine, and read enough books to fill an actual library.  He is also can tell you every decent to semi-decent BBQ restaurant within a few miles of the interstate between Jacksonville and Asheville.  You wouldn't take him on first blush as an adventurous guy, but at the same time, he was always up for it -- from rafting the Grand Canyon, to canoeing the Missouri River.  I guarantee you there aren't many - frankly if any kids from his time in his small town who could match the life he's lived.

And for 35+ years, he's also been my stepdad. 

When I think about the things I try to be as an adult, virtually every single import life lesson that I lean on today I can draw back to Joe.   When i was young, he'd preach learning to write -- 'Steve, if you can write, you will always have value' he'd say.  Or don't be afraid to go it alone -- he'd preach, encouraging us to find our own paths, even if those paths weren't the most well worn, or easily traveled.  He still believes in the age old concept of your word as your honor, and I have never seen him more troubled than when his word was called into question.  

His life wisdom was and is often just basic common sense as seen through the lens of just every day decency. One of the most impactful things I remember him saying -  "never say no to being a groomsman, a pall bearer, or a godparent," advice that means so much more than that.  He always seemed to do the little things, for example, I also remember him going to every funeral he could, because it was just the right thing to do. 

Our family was - and is - his Home Team, and to him, that concept wasn't meant to be some cute Hallmark slogan, or some modern-day well curated instagram image of the perfect family.  Far from that.  To Joe, that concept was more basic - we all had hopes and dreams, and the job of the rest of us was to support the other.  It meant picking up the slack, for example, when my Mom went back to work -- and at the same time, back to school to earn her Masters, or when one of us kids was in an activity when we were gone a lot.  And they led by example -- I don't remember a time when either Mom or Joe bought a new car until long after we were all out of college. 

He put me to work at a fairly young age, and I watched him at this place he'd built, where no job was too small for him.  He'd pump fuel, and clean toilets.  He'd pick up garbage, or help someone carry their supplies.  He'd send everyone home from work to be with their families, and wait for that last boat to come in late at night. He'd open doors, and say kind things to everyone he passed-- even to those who didn't always say kind things to him.  The customer is always right, he'd preach -- always right, even when they aren't, because without customers, we don't have a business. 

He also taught me by the jobs he gave me -- and the people he put me around. The life lessons from working on the docks, cleaning out waste oil facilities, working on a road crew, a home building crew, and even digging ditches in the dead of Florida summer, have stuck with me for a lifetime.  Out there, not only did I have to prove myself as more than just the owner's scrawny kid with a summer job -- I had to work harder, listen more, often take on the shittiest of jobs, and set aside my own privilege if I wanted to earn the respect of the guys I was out there sweating with -- but I had to learn to respect and trust them, even if our places in life were quite different.  I also realized, as was clearly the goal of these hard-earned lessons:  i needed to get my own self together, and focus on school.  

Innate basic decency is definitely the quality i admire the most. For Joe, it is never the wrong time to choose kindness -- never the wrong time to treat everyone around you with dignity -- never the wrong time to be patient, or show gratitude. From the wealthiest person who owned a boat in the marina, to Willie, the man who picked up the garbage, he treated everyone as they treated him -- if you are decent and kind -- your place in life didn't matter - you'd have a friend in Joe Taylor.   He has no place for rudeness and entitlement, no room for privilege, and no patience for those who wont pull their own weight.  

Along the same lines, I've learned so much watching him deal with difficult situations, seeing how he always focued first on solving the problem, and worrying about everything else later.   For example, when my own father suffered a stroke and became no longer competent to manage his own affairs, Joe stepped in and took care of them, and helped us figure out a workable solution. And despite the fact there are people for whom he could have an ill-word, he has shown his famly that grace is always the better route.  He would have been a hell of a diplomat had he chosen a different course in life. 

I am blessed that today, his 88th birthday, I still have Joe in my life -- finally retired, but active as always.   From those early days of getting struck by lightning with me, to the sacrifices he made to make sure my sisters and i had the best educational opportunities, to jumping into every hobby/career decision I've ever made (including joining my mother as defacto office managers of their local Florida Obama Office in 2008) to the "hey joe, how do i do this" calls I still make to him.  God knows there are plenty of places and times i've fallen short of his example, and I am not nearly as organized or as personally courageous as he is, but nonetheless, I am who I am because he's been in my life.   He says he won the lottery, but his three stepkids all know the truth, we were the ones who did. 

Oh, and despite getting struck by lighting, we never lost the fire on that rainy afternoon.  

Happy Birthday Joe.