True patriots are no longer champions of Democracy, Communism, or anything like that but champions of the Human Race.

Frederick Buechner, Whistling in the Dark

My father was a man who was a champion of the Human Race. He dedicated his life caring for people.

I’m using my recuperation to sort through some of the stuff at my parents’ house. Today I came across a small collection of books that are Class Reunion Reports from Harvard Medical School. My father graduated from there in 1955.

In each reunion report, the class members submit updates on their careers and their personal lives. I’ve been leafing through each one to find what my father said.

In 1980, he said this:

We look back on the last 25 years with great satisfaction and pride in our family and their accomplishments, and with gratitude for having had an opportunity to be contributing members of our communities, for having the acquaintance of so many wonderful people, and for having witnessed such exciting change in our nation and our world. I still believe in the Red Sox, the United States of America, and the inherent goodness of our fellow man.

My father lived those words.

He died with the last Red Sox game of 2019 on the television in his bedroom. It was fitting.

He loved this country. He served in the US Army. Every year he would faithfully watch our local Memorial Day parade down Main Street, and stand at attention for the 21-gun salute. It was a huge honor when he was asked to Marshall the local 4th of July parade. He proudly walked (no convertible for him!) the whole parade route in his dress uniform.

And, he truly believed in the inherent goodness of our fellow man — although our current president gave my father a challenge there.

One of my funniest Emergency Room moments with my father was in 2017 or 2018. The staff was trying to assess his cognitive status by asking the usual questions:

• Do you know where you are? (“Bassett Hospital in Cooperstown, NY”)
• Do you know what day of the week it is? (I can’t remember whether his response was correct or not. That’s not really a fair question for older people who have less of schedule to mark their days.)
• Do you know who the president of the United States is? (“I refuse to say that awful man’s name.”)

I think that makes him a patriot and a champion of the Human Race.

And cognitively aware.

There are people who use up their entire lives making money so they can enjoy the lives they have entirely used up. Jesus said that it’s easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of God. Maybe the reason is not that the rich are so wicked they’re kept out of the place but that they’re so out of touch with reality they can’t see it’s a place worth getting into.

Frederick Buechner, Whistling in the Dark

My father used to tell me that I was the richest person he knows. Then he would add with a smile, “and maybe someday you’ll have money.”

Honestly, money has never been a motivator for me.

Is that because I’ve always had enough? Maybe, but…

Having enough money may mean

• prioritizing
• discerning wants vs. needs
• delaying gratification
• budgeting
• living within one’s means

I was a stay-at-home mom. I used to joke with people that my husband and I had a good arrangement — he earned the money and I spent it. That’s truly how it worked.

I did little things to bring in extra cash: I baked cookies and sold them to a local business. I coached swimming. I officiated high school and college swim meets.

We also saved on spending. I made Christmas gifts or shopped thrift stores for them. We rarely ate out. Clothes were passed down.

I look back on all of it and see what my father saw. We were so rich.

During the process of divorce, our financial arrangement came back to haunt me. So many people cautioned me on “looking out for myself.” I hated being in that position.

But I will say today that I am still rich in the ways that matter to me.

Earlier this week a Russian couple brought me some chocolates from Russia as a thank you for something I did for them last summer. Another woman brought me a bag of thumbprint cookies from an upscale bakery in Boston — as a thank-you.

I guess sweets are a form of riches — but, for me, it’s the sentiment behind them that I appreciate.

On a regular basis different people poke their head into my office just to say hi or to thank me or to give me some little something. I have so many cards and chachkies on my bulletin board. Last week I came in to find flowers on my desk.

I am rich indeed.