My Dad’s “Cornell Dad” Sweatshirt #FeelingFriday
My dad passed away this past October. He was 90, so part of me knew it had to be coming at some point. But his at-home accident still felt shocking.
Going through his closet, my sister and I found a sweatshirt I hadn't thought about in decades: "Cornell Dad."
I bought it for him for Christmas my freshman year at Cornell. It wasn’t as a gift to celebrate necessarily, but as proof. My mom got the companion piece.
Allow me to explain.
Growing up in Syracuse, NY, I desperately wanted to go to Cornell. He desperately wanted me to be realistic. No one from my high school had ever gotten into an Ivy League school. My guidance counselor said so. He said so. The message was clear: you won't get in.
But I applied early decision anyway.
December 4th, I got the acceptance postcard. A tiny little postcard that said “yes.” It is a day and a mailbox I remember with absolute clarity. I still have the postcard.
After a grueling first semester that was academically challenging to say the least, a Cornell Dad sweatshirt was my answer to him. I'm here. I made it. You were wrong.
Here's what struck me when I found it again all these years later: my dad didn't keep many possessions. Some tools. Painting supplies because he loved to paint. A few coffee mugs. A picture of Niagara Falls from his childhood. Not much else of his own.
But he kept the Cornell Dad sweatshirt.
I think he kept it because it symbolized something I didn't know he was carrying around all these years: victory over doubt. My success at Cornell ultimately erased his initial doubt. Funny how pride can find a way to hold on to a few things that matter.
It makes me wonder about all the other times in my life where I faced obstacles where I know he also felt doubt about me making it.
Like moving to New York City to get my MBA. I know that scared him too.
Like coming out and raising two kids as a gay dad. That terrified him.
He didn't get a sweatshirt for those moments. But maybe knowing he kept the Cornell Dad sweatshirt close gave him the confidence he needed at those milestones too.
Now the sweatshirt sits in my closet and it means something different. It's no longer a proof point, it’s a recognition that I broke through his fears. Now that’s worth remembering.
What's your experience? JIM