RADIO RUHANIYAT. 06-14-14: Episode 352
Learning From His Father!
-Guy Fieri: Food Network!
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HAPPY FATHER’S DAY!
Learning from His Father
Chef Guy Fieri talks about why his father is his greatest inspiration.
Who’s my greatest inspiration?
No, it’s not a chef, though I’ve met some
awesome cooks road-tripping across the country…you know, the ones at mom-and-pop
joints who serve up crazy-good food. And sure, there are football players and
movie stars who make me think, Wow,
he’s a cool guy. But real
greatness? That I find closer to home. My biggest inspiration, the best role
model this Guy could ever hope for…it’s my dad, hands down.
“Don’t let the specifics get in the way of a
good story,” Dad likes to say.
My parents bought an old house in Ferndale. Dad
fixed it up, learning as he went. He put my sister and me to work too. Dad loves
to tell the story of the time we built a deck. He’d tacked all the boards in
place. They just needed to be nailed off. That was my job. I had my hammer and I
was pounding big 16-penny nails into the wood. Sure, I was only six, but Dad had
taught me well—those nails were going in straight! Some family friends came over
for dinner and saw me. “What the heck is Guy doing?” they asked my dad.
“Finishing off the deck.”
“But, Jim, there’s like a thousand nails he’s
got to put in!” Dad shrugged. “He’s got
all weekend.”
It wasn’t child labor. It was just how we did
things. We kept cows, pigs and horses, and my sister and I had chores. Mine were
bringing in firewood and feeding the animals every night. There was a huge
trough for watering the horses. It took forever to fill.
One night I got tired of waiting and turned off
the water before the trough was totally full. I went back inside and crawled
into bed. Guess who woke me? Dad. “You get out there and water those horses.”
“I did,” I said weakly.
“You know what I mean, son. Go finish what you
started.” I went. There was no skating by. Do a job once and do it right. Dad
had no tolerance for laziness.
That included mental laziness. He always urged
us to think for ourselves. “I don’t know” was not an acceptable answer. I
remember one day we were driving to the dump. I was staring at a grassy field,
zoning out. “What are you thinking?” Dad asked.
“I don’t know. Nothing, I guess.”
“That’s ridiculous. There’s no way you’re not
thinking something.”
“Well, I was wondering, what happens to that
grass? It grows and grows. Where does it all go?” What followed was a discussion
about dairy farming and how much grass cattle go through.
Don’t be afraid to ask, that’s what Dad taught
me. Don’t be afraid to try either, especially when it comes to chasing your
dreams. You’ve got to know what it takes to make them come true, right?
If it weren’t for my dad I would never have
become an entrepreneur or had the guts to start my own restaurants. My very
first business was a lemonade stand. I had it down—sixty-nine cents for the mix,
a five-gallon jug of water, ice, cups and a busy corner on Main Street.
Then one year our family went skiing in Squaw
Valley and I discovered something more exciting than lemonade. I found a guy at
the lodge who sold hot pretzels. Big, salty New York-style pretzels slathered in
mustard. I spent all my lunch money on ’em. Dad couldn’t believe it. “That’s all
you ate? Pretzels?”
“Yeah, ten of them!”
“That good, huh?” Dad said. “Want to open a
pretzel business back home?”
“How do I do that?”
“Ask the guy where he gets his pretzels. Get the
address.”
I ran to the pretzel cart. “Excuse me, sir,” I
said. “I really like your pretzels. Can you tell me where you get them?”
The man stared at me. “Are you kidding? So you
can sell ’em next to me?”
“But I don’t want to sell them here, just maybe
at home,” I tried to explain. “I mean, I’m only eleven.”
“Not a chance, kid,” he laughed. “It’s a trade
secret.” I was crushed. I went to my dad and told him what happened.
I should’ve known Dad wouldn’t look at a problem
without coming up with at least one solution. “Go and watch him,” he said. “Wait
till he fills up that cart and see what he does with the box the pretzels come
in.” I sat there, watching and waiting, for three hours. Finally I saw the
pretzel man toss a box in the trash. I did a Dumpster dive and dug it out.
I went running proudly to Dad like a dog with a
bird. He tore off the address and we chucked the rest of the box.
Back home he helped me write a letter to the
pretzel company. We got a three-wheeler from Goodwill. After school, I met Dad
at his buddy’s wood shop and we built a pretzel cart. I painted it yellow.
“What do you want to call it?” Dad asked. “The
Awesome Pretzel Cart,” I decided. That summer at the town fair I set up my cart
and sold hot pretzels. I made a thousand bucks. A sixth grader with his own
business. It was awesome!
I’ve heard it said that what the mind can
conceive, man can achieve. That’s Dad in a nutshell. Everything I’ve ever done,
he’s been there encouraging me, working with me to figure things out and, yes,
sometimes kicking me in the rear.
Now I’m a father myself, with two boys, Hunter, 13, and Ryder, four. My parents
live next door, and the boys spend a lot of time with their grandfather—they
call him Jamps.
Still, I like to think they’ve got a pretty good
role model right at home. The other day Hunter and I were playing “You wanna
bet?” As in “You wanna bet why they have three awnings outside that store?” My
way of getting my son to figure things out, to think for himself.
“What do you mean you have no clue?” I said.
“I’m not taking that for an answer.”
“You know what, Dad?” Hunter said. “You’re just
like Jamps.” Did I say I’m a good role model for my sons? That’s because I was
blessed with the best!
-By Guy Fieri, Food Network
Today Guy Fieri is
a very well known chef on Food Network Television and he thanks his dad for his
success. God blessed us with Fathers to teach us and be there for us as our role
models. This one day in a year is a mere opportunity to thank him for being in
our life. Happy Father’s Day to all the fathers!