An ode to my Late Great Father -And the reason I write this blog....

We lost my father to cancer three years ago, and like many children with a parent who has gone to a greater reward, I can still hear his voice talking to me when I remember him.  He was, (and for me still is) a remarkable man.

He was born during the depression in a mining town in northern Ontario Canada. His mother was a gorgeous woman with a big heart, but not much in the way of an education.  His father was a jack of all trades, an avid angler and a semi-professional baseball player who pitched two no hitters in the old Northern Ontario Semi Professional baseball league.  Although he never found out for sure, my Dad suspected that he might have been what was once called a "love child", the result of a romantic fling after his mother perhaps went to one of my grandfather's games.

Who would think that from such humble beginnings my Dad would go on to work on both Wall and Bay Streets in the 1960s and 70s.

But those beginnings I believe shaped my father's character.  He treated everyone with kindness and respect, no matter whether he was dealing with someone who was unemployed or the CEO of a major corporation.

My father's parents divorced when he was only 6 or 7 years of age, and later his mother remarried.  I said she was a gorgeous woman, and her charms attracted a former officer in the Canadian military, one who was educated and taught my father how to behave in polite society.  My step grandfather was no Saint however, among his vices were drink, women and gambling.  A university education is nice, but it doesn't say anything about a person's moral being.

But my Dad was always grateful to his step father.  He moved the family from that northern mining town to a big city.  My Dad's stepfather was educated and well read with the letters CPA after his name.  It is because of this man that my father grew up to be comfortable in a higher strata of society. Dad was convinced that had the family stayed where they were that he would have ended up working underground.

But my father did not forget his more humble roots.  He always treated everyone, regardless of their income, education or social status, the way he wanted to be treated.  

I won't go into detail about everything he accomplished, but there is one story that I will always remember, it was told to me by my mother sometime after my Dad had retired.  My parents would go down to Florida to escape Canada's winters, and one year they made a stopover in New York, where my father had worked for a Canadian financial institution starting in the sixties.  

While in NY he had managed the bond desk for his employer.  Going back to NYC sometime around 1999 my Dad decided to go visit the building he used to work at in the Wall Street district.  It no longer housed the firm he had worked for, and he noticed that the large brass doors were badly tarnished.

He poked his head in the door and peered around.  A security guard, who looked to be in his seventies according to my Mom said something like:  "Can I help you"?  My father explained that he used to work in that same building many years before and he was just taking a gander.  My mom said the old security guard scrutinized my father and then his face lit up as he said:  "Mr. MyDad'sName"????

It turned out this was the same security guard who had worked at the building during my Dad's time, My Dad remembered his name as well.  To make a long story short my Mom and Dad were given a guided tour of the building.

My Mom told me why that guy remembered my Dad's name.  "Your father made a point of knowing everyone's name, it didn't matter if they were the president of the company or the janitor".

He was a helluva a man.  

Year's later he was pushed aside, given a job he didn't want, managing a new local branch of a bank in the Pacific Northwest of the United States.  Regardless he endeavored to make it a successful launch. His branch was right on the street that divided the city between black and white, so my Dad made a point of hiring staff who reflected the community in which the business was located.

When it came time for the official opening some senior execs flew in from Toronto.  My Dad and Mom met with them in our family room, sitting around the bar, I was sent to my room down the hall. Up to that point in my life I had never heard my father swear, except perhaps for the word ass.  I soon got the Full Monty.  It wasn't until years later that I found out what happened, again with my Mother telling the tale.

Sitting around the bar in the family room of our house my Dad was asked what he was planning to do for the grand opening.  His answer...."Nothing special, the usual coffee and donuts".  One of the guys from Toronto then said:  "In that area???  Are you nuts???  You'll have every coon in the neighborhood in there".  

As my Mother later told me, and my Father reluctantly confirmed, Dad lost it.  Along with a profanity laced tirade Dad said he'd kick their Effing Asses all the way back to Toronto if they told him how to run his branch. 

Within a year he resigned.  If he hadn't had a wife and three kids to support I suspect he would have quit that very day.  We moved back to Canada and the rest is just prologue.

Which brings me to the reason I write this blog.  When it comes to stocks and investments, retail investors are harp seals swimming in waters infested with killer whales.   And the industry players who infest social media sites have no respect for retail investors, their only aim is to make money for themselves.  

Companies that have little to no value get pumped and promoted, with IR firms and other promotional outfits being paid to bring the retail herd into the slaughter house.  Analysts who work for Investment banks tout investment in companies when their firm is underwriting secondary offerings.  The rich get richer and too many retail investors get lured into stocks that are being sold high by the very people who are telling the retail crowd that they're buying low.

One point I wish to make abundantly clear.  I am no expert, but I will express honest opinions.  I will not write bullish opinion about a stock that I am selling, nor will I trash a company when I am buying it's shares.  That's not treating people with respect, and its not what my Dad taught me.

If you continue visiting this blog you'll see me referencing my Father on occasion and sharing some of the things he taught me.  One of his favorite bromides, especially with speculative stocks, is that "you'll never go broke taking profits" another was "don't marry a stock".

Peace out....