Lydia Mulero
In the book how to win friends and influence people Dale Carnegie says principal number one is to become genuinely interested in what other people are interested in. My dad did this without trying, or probably even thinking about the benefits of it. A consummate social butterfly, he loved making connections. You know this if you were ever on the receiving end of one of his mass texts wherein you suddenly found yourself in a group chat of unknown phone numbers. He simply loved to share — stories, photos, art, friendship.
His greatest joy was finding something or someone you might find interesting. He was forever cutting out articles and other random clippings and leaving them for me in the house. In high school the apartment upstairs became vacant and he decided I should have it. A 16-year-old with her own apartment. The mementos followed me there, left each day in between the railings of the stairs. Once I moved to New Orleans I would receive frequent packages in the mail usually with no note or explanation, but filled with things that reminded him of me. In our basement at home he had a file cabinet filled with papers, of all the random detritus of life. Report cards, birthday cards, my childhood drawings. He loved to call himself an archivist, and he was. Our life was collected, organized, and therefor remembered.
He collected people as well. His giving and social nature drew people to him, and he loved to befriend people he found interesting. This led us to find ourselves visiting the families of friends and colleagues around the world from an amazing apartment on recoleta in Buenos Aires to a tiny village south of Madrid, something that in my young age I didn’t realize was so special.
He was an attentive and loving father, he always went out of his way to make me feel seen, heard, and understood. He knew how to make me feel important and was pointing out and celebrating my successes until the very end. He was my number one fan and I knew he always had my back. When things got tough I could always call my daddy.
He was also constantly looking for ways to make each day fun and special, from riding bikes along the Hudson River bike path to Ted’s Fish Fry to skipping school to see the circus elephants walk back to the train, followed by breakfast at Miss Albany Diner. IYKYK.
My dad was effortlessly cool in a way I wasn’t able to comprehend as a child but now as an adult seems obvious. I think this is part of what drew people to him, he never tried too hard yet managed to give off this aura of coolness. Plus he just was funny. My friends still talk about how he made them all try sazeracs at my high school graduation.
In his later years he had some medical issues that seemed to open up the emotional centers of his brain. Because of this he became very interested in the ways the universe speaks to you, almost spiritual in a way he had not been before. He was always listening for signs and coincidences, and then would call me to tell me very excitedly what happened. Right before he passed we had a family dinner at a restaurant in San Juan. The walls were adorned with photos from one of his favorite photographers Jack Delano. This is the kind of thing he would have loved. Since his passing I’ve seen countless monarch butterflies — a species that is going extinct — in unexplainable places where I’ve never seen them before. I can’t help but think he’s sending them to me.
I will always be grateful to have my father’s example and love for 37 years. I will miss him deeply but am so thankful my baby got to know her cool and special grandpa, Jan the Man, even if for just a little bit.
