The Story Of Joe


My biological father died on Friday morning.  Before you pass judgment or offer condolences know that we were estranged for much, if not all, of the last three decades.  Combined with the decade following his divorce from my mother, when I was seven years old, it has been a long time since he has actually been any part of my life.  That said, he represents 50% of my DNA and his passing offers a odd moment of reflection.

I am the product of a mother who was a math teacher and Joe, an art teacher. This combination has both served and limited me. I wouldn’t have it ay other way.  My chosen profession, working with early stage companies, requires both.  Building a strategy or company is an art informed by data.  Something I am very comfortable with. So while Joe was not around to teach me to shave or talk to girls he has likely contributed to whatever value I have brought to the companies I have had the privilege to work for/with/around.

This is not meant to be a eulogy.  Our relationship passed long ago.  Rather this is meant to be a reminder to myself that for all the things that were either bad or missing there were parts that weren’t.  And in any in any case, they all make me what I am today. I am numbers and pictures, art and science, all combined in a mind and heart both divided and stronger for it.

Rest in peace Joe.


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