John Lennon was right.

My wife and I were only married for a short time when we lived in Navy Housing, just outside of Washington, DC. The housing area was affectionately called "Dog Patch" by the residents and most of the Naval personnel in the area. The homes could not be described as "Plush". Quaint or "Cozy" would be a better term. But, we only had one child at the time, and my wife and I liked the coziness.

We drove a Chevrolet Cavalier. It was new when we got it. It seemed a sensible vehicle for our new family. White with 4 doors, it was the typical middle class economy car. As far as we were concerned, we had a nice life.

I was stationed at the Pentagon, working in support of the leaders of the Navy and the Nation. I felt wonderful.

This modest lifestyle was a far cry from how I grew up. For the most part, the family home was in a small suburb of New York City called Mountainside, NJ. It was a 4 square mile borough about 20 minutes driving (more or less) from the city. Upper middle class families populated it's well kept streets and there was very little crime. Driveways were filled with high end vehicles. I thought most families drove Cadillacs or Lincolns. We had a large swimming pool and for most of our formative years, my sister and older brother and I went to private schools. My younger brother went to public school only because he was thrown out of private school. (That's a whole other story.)

As it happened, while I was stationed at the Pentagon, a good friend of mine, whom I was stationed with years before, was assigned to the Bureau of Naval Personnel, just across the street from the Pentagon, at the "Navy Annex". His family lived in Hampton Roads, VA and he used to go home on weekends. Since I knew his family from when we were stationed in Scotland, occasionally Larry would invite us all to come down and spend the weekend. We would take my car, as it got great gas milage and we didn't have to move the car seat for the baby.

After one such weekend, We had almost reached home. Wife and child were asleep in the back seat, my friend asked me a question that has stuck with me all this time. He said: "Bob, you live in a small, modest home, you drive an economy car, you're enlisted in the Navy. In short, you live a "working man's" life. You grew up with money. You had all the luxury someone could want. How do you make that adjustment?"

It was late at night. I was tired. So, my answer was short, but truthful. I replied that those luxuries I grew up with were my father's. He made it very clear that we were living this life of comfort through his largess.  That's how he put it. "Largess". I was 5 or 6 when I first heard that word. Imagine looking that up at that age. I barely knew what a dictionary was, forget looking up a word like that.

But, I digress. My father's largess provided our lifestyle. My lifestyle, as an adult; although much more modest, was mine. Everything in my home was ours because we earned it, through our work. The car I drove, was mine due to my effort. My father gave me nothing. When I left for the Navy, I got on that train to Great Lakes, IL with nothing but a change of underwear and a toothbrush. I had 10 dollars in my pocket. My father had not given that to me. He didn't even get out of bed to say goodbye when I left.

My friend looked rather shocked at my response. I told him that he had asked a direct question, I gave him a direct answer. I smiled.

My father has been gone for 24 years this past May. We never spent time doing anything together because I might enjoy it. He didn't spend time with any of my siblings. to this day, 24 years after his death, I know no one who consistently has anything good to say about the man.

More than 30 years after the conversation in the car, that late night, my lifestyle has remained pretty much the same. We still live in a small home. Our car doesn't have all the bells and whistles available today. But, it's paid for.

What we have is ours! We've worked to earn the things we have. It's not the things that are important.

I did not relate the story about my father to complain or garner sympathy. There is an old saying; "What doesn't kill us, makes us stronger."

My father's neglect and cruelty towards us had an unanticipated result. I learned what not to do as a parent. I spent time with my children and still to today. When my children were growing up, I always spent time with them. I played with them, helped them with homework, went to school functions or Scout meetings. I was involved in their lives.

I am still involved. My oldest daughter calls me regularly and fills me in on what is going on in her family's life. I know still, when she is feeling bad and when she is happy. We all share time together.

None of this happened by accident. There was a lot of give and take over the years. but in the end, we all always knew that we loved each other. We knew this not just by words but, by actions.

So, although we may not have the same level of material things as when I grew up in my father's big house, I believe that my family is richer than my father ever was or could hope to be.

More than 30 years after my friend Larry asked the question, how did I make the lifestyle adjustment? The answer remains the same.

John Lennon was right. "All you need is Love"