It's often implied that many if not most autobiographies are self-serving, and as much as I tried to avoid inference of my eminence this is probably no exception. But a few readers have assured me that a few folk may someday be grateful for this peek at times past, so hopefully you'll credit me at least that one justification for my efforts.
Appreciation for content goes first to my parents and my sister Jean who sat front and center in my childhood. Others too numerous to recite contributed their strength and kindness over the years. But two very special individuals challenged my complacency at critical junctures and thereby enriched my life to a degree I can never adequately repay.
Frank Weems, a sales executive on Madison Avenue in NYC, persevered for six months to convince a Canadian farm boy that he could survive sales in that ultra-competitive city. Once on board, he promptly sent me into battle without the training usually invested in new hires. It was tough love–but in retrospect the very key to any success that followed.
Some twenty years later, Linda Galindo as a corporate consultant asked why I was still working in the company. When I responded with duty, she asked me to define it. That question began a sequence of events that still challenges me to examine my role in our world...why am I taking up space? Through it all remains the affection that connects us.
Special thanks go to my daughter Jill and son Andrew, patient editors and careful proof readers. Be very grateful for their rephrasing of my too frequently bloated syntax.
And at the heart of all effort resides my bride Ursula, my severest critic and and strongest supporter.
Stan Stych 2019