On to the next project

Two Peas in a Pod
My dad reached a monumental achievement on Friday, when he left work for the last time to start his retirement after 39 years and 8 months working for the same company. It’s really hard to imagine that anyone could work in the same physical location for that amount of time, but he did and like many of his other accomplishments, he did it well.

His company was called Litton Industries back in the day. It actually held that title for the majority of my life, later to be acquired by Grumman, which in turn sold it to L-3. Regardless of the name, it was still always “dad’s work”. It is a rarity in this day and age of mergers and failed ventures, especially here in the Silicon Valley. A business that has withstood the test of time and downsized military spending (a majority of business has always been defense contracting), it stands as a non-assuming white building in San Carlos that had two gates and a guard shack.

I have visited this place for as long as I can remember, but every time it seemed different. It was the place that my dad had invested so much of his time, so that he could invest in his family.

It’s been a staple in my life, so it’ll be hard to fathom not having a reason to go back and visit. Not that electron tubes (the product that Litton manufactured for as long as I can remember) are all that glamorous in the first place, but it was always cool to meet the people that my dad spent the majority of his day with. I always felt like a special person when I visited, because my dad loved to show off his kids to his co-workers.

"I think you've grown six inches since the last time you were here Michael", was something I had grown accustomed to hearing during my visits. I often catch myself telling my friends or co-workers kids that when I see them now. It made me feel like I was important to them, so perhaps I'm making one of those kids feel important too.

I think about how Karsyn reacts to visiting my work, and how excited she is to see me in the middle of the day at the place that I earn a living. I wonder if I had the same enthusiasm at five years old? I wonder if she’ll remember the pictures that I keep on my desk of her and her brother, much the same way that my dad had of me and my sister?

I remember this glass paper weight that I made in kindergarten, adorned with a goofy picture of me set in the glass. He used to keep it on his desk, and I would chuckle every time I visited and saw it there. I would ask myself why he wanted to keep that old thing. It’s funny how you figure out those kinds of dumb questions after you have kids of your own.

After almost 40 years, my dad has earned a little r&r, and I fully expect him to now invest a little time in his short game. He’s got to be tickled with the fact that he can get out of bed whenever he wants (his alarm clock has been set for 4:30am for 40 years), and has all the time in the world to visit the million or so golf courses on his list of places to see. So I guess, I’m having a harder time with his retirement than he is. Probably for the simple fact that something which has been a part of my life since the day I was born isn’t going to be there any more.

I got the family together for dinner on Saturday night to celebrate dad’s milestone at a Korean restaurant that he likes. We all sat around talking about the time he had spent at Litton, and when I asked why he didn’t just make it an even 40 years (39 years & 8 months sounds so incomplete), he simply replied that he had “qualified for social security.”


"Mooma", Karsyn and Dad

In reality, he qualified back in December, but he hung around for a few months because his boss was having health problems, and he didn’t want to leave him hanging while all that was going on. Even after 39 years, he exuded the same professionalism that he had been teaching to me since I was old enough to understand. That’s the kind of person my dad is. Whether I’m a model citizen in the business world or not, I can’t ever say that I didn’t have a great teacher.

Congratulations Dad! You are a role model second to none.