My Altruistic Father

As long as I have known my father he has always been the consummate altruist. Back home in the Caribbean island of Dominica he was an exemplary primary school teacher who would go out of his way to help fellow teachers as well as pupils. He also became known as the good Samaritan in the small village where we lived. After thirty years of work he retired and soon after emigrated to the United States to a completely different experience.

He experienced massive culture shock the first time he landed in America. It was a totally new experience. The vastness of everything overwhelmed him. He said it was like a whole new beautiful boundless world. The novelty wore off pretty quickly though as the reality of his situation became much more mundane. He first went to Orlando in Florida with my mother because that was where my uncle their sponsor lived.

Naturally he wanted to work like he was accustomed to and he hit the ground running. He found work as a day laborer and he had to travel long distances by bus to get to the job site. He took it in stride but it was much different from his teaching job where he had shaped young impressionable Caribbean minds for the future. He usually came home late and exhausted from this first gig. Teaching had finally disappeared down that one way hole in the past forever.

Things got weird fast in Florida. About six weeks into my parents move to Orlando, the atmosphere in the house became fractious. It was the usual petty squabbles that mar families. They were forced to move to Brooklyn NY where we had other family. Once again my father found work quickly. For a while there was the prospect of obtaining a teaching gig but that didn't work out. Deep down my father didn't want to teach anymore. Especially not in Brooklyn. I guess he had heard the stories about the hardcore inner city schools. Plus my mom feared even more for his well being. So he eventually got a job in a nursing home like the proverbial Caribbean immigrant who works either in hospitals, nursing homes or in private homes as nurses aides. As fate would have it my father ended up in the familiar position of helping others like had he done for almost thirty years.

His first job was taking care of elderly Jewish people in a home and he quickly became the most popular worker. He went above and beyond his call of duty as usual. He genuinely cared about the patients and tried his best to assist them whenever. That gig lasted for a couple years and then he found another. The entire place was sad when he left. They had grown attached to this selfless man who had empathy wired in his genes. He still visits them when he gets a chance. Now that he is in this new nursing home job the same scenario repeats itself. He has already become the most popular worker in the place. Patients have already grown attached. Guess the old adage that a leopard can't change its spots is definitely true. In his case that is indeed an endearing thing.

My father seems to have fitted quite well at his new job. He wakes early usually humming a tune as he prepares for work. Every evening my mom waits eagerly for him to get back. She is fascinated by the stories he tells about his day in the home. Sometimes she teases him for been a pushover but deep down she knows he loves helping his fellow men. He sees it as
his duty.