Dad was a warehouse worker at Mystic Automatic Sales in Medford MA. The company distributed and supported vending machines throughout New England. Dad’s job was to help organize cartons of vending products for delivery trucks.
Mr. Louis Risman was the company’s owner. Not only compassionate but foundational in our lives and his kindness always remembered. He ran his company as a not so typical family business, a community. Turnovers were rare. In that culture, Mom and Dad developed great friendships throughout. I still have vivid memories vacationing with one of Dad’s co-workers for two weeks one summer. It was my first experience with country living. I was accepted buy their older boys, even rode their horses most days; greatest memories for a city kid!
Leading up to Christmas, everyone at the company began buzzing about their annual Holiday bash. It was Mr. Risman’s thanks to everyone. Men were dressed in suits and ties, women in their best cocktail wears. All employees and their spouses laughed, drank, ate, and danced till late in the night. A professional photographer documented the event, many pictures distributed to all as a remembrance of each annual gala. For the next several months, that’s all everyone talked about. Those were the happiest of times for Mom and Dad.
Mr. Risman understood Dad’s health was compromised and was unable to perform strenuous labor. He even encouraged him to take afternoon naps. Mr. Risman did his very best to compensate for dad’s faulty heart with his own. That alone was very special. I remember the day Mom said someone at work was driving Dad home. Through our Cleveland Place alley, I could see a station wagon driving down Snow Hill Street. I ran towards the car as dad walked around its back. He was wheeling a bicycle, a brown Shelby 2-wheeler. Mr. Risman bought my first bicycle.
His kindness didn’t stop there.
After Dad’s passing, Mr. Riesman frequently kept in touch to make sure Mom and I were OK. Occasionally he also came to visit us. When old enough to better understand, Mom also shared something remarkable. Mr. Riesman kept Dad on his payroll for an extended time after he died to help us get back on our feet; one less burden to deal with. WOW!
I received a Associates Degree and BS from Northeastern University, after about 10-years nights. I went onto Babson College’s evening MBA program.
I also followed a passion and applied to Paine Webber (then Paine Webber, Jackson and Curtis) stock broker training program. To my surprise I was accepted. I always wondered what they saw in me. I had some rough edges and certainly didn’t fit the narrative.
Soon after completion of their program, having passed all license tests, I was spending my days prospecting for customers. One day I remember sitting at my desk with all other retail brokers on the 30th floor at 100 Federal Street downtown Boston. I was thinking about where I came from and how I landed here. I needed to visit Mr. Risman.
I called to make sure he was in. After letting the receptionist know who was calling, she gasped and said, “you’re Pete Steriti’s son”. When I arrived, there was a procession of Dad’s former co-workers still there. Each told me how they loved and remembered Dad.
The whole time I could see Mr. Risman. I glanced and smiled at him several times. Now an adult in a business suit, I was far from the fractured child he remembered years earlier. His first words from his engaging smile was how happy he was seeing me. I felt overwhelmingly challenged, knowing whatever I said wouldn’t adequately express Mom’s and my gratefulness.
Although compelled to fill in the many years gone by, I wanted him to know Mom and I frequently thought about him. Yet all he wanted to know was that Mom and I were all right. When it was time to go, I clutched his hand with both of mine, we are because of you. With our most grateful hearts, thank you Mr. Risman.
Once out of the parking lot, I pulled over and dialed. Mom, guess who I just visited? Her silence said it all.