PODCAST 1 JOE BORRI

The transcription is a conversation between two hosts of a podcast called "Questions I Wish I'd Asked My Parents" and their guest, Joe Borey. Joe talks about his background, growing up in Detroit, his artistic interests, and his career as a portrait artist. He also mentions his book and his website where his artwork can be viewed. The hosts explain the format of their podcast and the purpose behind it, which is to explore questions that people wish they could ask their parents. Joe then discusses his father, describing him as a larger-than-life figure with a striking appearance. computer. That sounds right to me. All right, here we go. Questions. Our lives are filled with them, dozens every day. Some have definitive answers and some, like the proverbial Zen koan what's the sound of one hand clapping, do not. And those are the ones we, ah shit, And those are the ones we deal with on our podcast, questions I wish I'd asked my parents. I'm your host, Mel Foster. And I'm your co-host, Neil Dickman. I'm a clinical psychologist, doctor of psychology. Together, we interview one guest. Together, we interview one guest each podcast and ask them, ah, together we interview one guest each podcast and ask them for the one question they wish they could ask their mother or father. And we do a bit of one hand clapping analysis to see where the questions lead us, lead you. Okay. So I want, can you just do your first line and just say, I'm your co-host, Dr. Neil Dickman, a clinical psychologist. Just read the damn line. You knew this was going to happen, brother. You had to know that. I'm your co-host, Dr. Neil Dickman, a clinical psychologist. One more time. Faster, slower, what did you say? I'm your host, I'm your host, Mel Foster. But it doesn't say and I'm in here, so I'm trying to follow the script. It does say and. It says, Dr. Neil Dickman, a clinical psychologist. No, it says, and I'm your co-host, Dr. Neil Dickman. Okay. All right, so I'm going to lead in. I'm your host, Mel Foster. And I'm your co-host, and I'm your co-host, Dr. Neil Dickman, a clinical psychologist. Okay, we can cobble all that together. All right. All right. This is the first podcast in the series, Questions I Wish I'd Asked My Parents. And our first guest tonight is Joe Borey, who lives in the Detroit area and has a very accomplished career across many different avenues. Why don't you tell us a little bit about yourself, Joe? Well, thank you, Mel. And I'm sorry, what was your first name again? Neil. Neil. Yeah, Mel and Neil, thank you. Yeah, I grew up in Detroit on the east side. My father was a Detroit policeman. And growing up in the city was a unique experience in the 60s. I was always drawn to the creative side, started out wanting to become a, like a lot of kids my age, probably a baseball player or some kind of athlete. And I was pretty athletic growing up, but I also was very artistic, I guess. I went to Catholic schools my whole life. And between trying to survive the nuns and everything else that goes along with Catholic school, they would send home notes to my parents telling them that I had a gift for art. And that seemed to be where my life kind of trended. I stayed athletic all through high school. I kind of hung out with the jocks and hung out with the artists. And I ended up going to art school, wanting to be an editorial illustrator after college, which I did for a while. And then when I realized that I had to do an immense amount of work to just make a decent living, I ended up stumbling into art and design sales, which I thought I'd do that for maybe a year or two and make some money and start as a family. And I ended up doing it for about 40 years. So in that time, though, I also was a career portrait artist, which I still do. I wrote a book in 2007, Eight Dogs Named Jack, and 14 other stories that won a few awards. It was an endeavor that I wanted to do. I think I probably had undiagnosed ADHD, because I kind of got to a point where I just couldn't finish one project and I'd move on to something else. I'd get bored painting. And so when I was raising my kids, I ended up, I would stay up, after I put them to bed, I would stay up from about 10 at night till 2, 3 in the morning. And I would write every night or paint, whatever it was. I did that for about 10 years, I think. And I ended up probably writing, I don't know, 100 stories and four novel-like manuscripts and screenplays. It was a lot. But I ended up with a nice collection of short stories and I was able to do that. But I never had another book published. It's a very difficult field, obviously. And I still think about maybe trying to get one of my other ones published, but I'm not sure if I will. Well, you know, Joe, I've seen your paintings, the ones you've done of especially musicians. There's like a series of them, isn't there? Yeah, yeah. I've done, especially during the pandemic, I started really painting a lot. I don't know why it was musicians. I guess I love music and they're always a captivating subject. And I ended up probably doing, I don't know, 30 or so portraits of different sizes and a few commissions. I did a really, I think a really impactful commission I did was for a gentleman out in New York who's very, very accomplished. He scores commercials, Joel Simon. And him and I kind of just met through Facebook friends, you know? A lot of people in the business that he knows, that I know, in advertising. And you probably know as well. And he commissioned me to do two paintings for his studio that he was redoing. And it was, they were both four by six feet. One was Jimi Hendrix and one was Amy Winehouse. And those hang in his studio right now. Two upright, straightforward citizens. Yeah. So, you know, Joe, you're doing us a favor by being the first guest on our podcast. We can do you a little favor. Is there a web address that people can look at your artwork on? So, yeah, thank you. My website is motorcityjoe.com. And they buy your artwork there? There's a contact info, I think, page on there. Most of my work is commissioned. I do have a print on demand site on Fine Art America that I sold prints through. But I typically do original work. Got to a point with prints that people would say they wanted to print. And I'd get 20 or 30 prints made. And then I'd get stuck with 17 of them. So I kind of got out of the manufacturing of things. And I like doing the original pieces. Anyway, I work in acrylics and oil primarily. I also do some digital work, the mixed media pieces, where I'll do quite a bit of the work preliminarily digitally and then paint into it. There's a lot of ways to get from point A to point B. Having done this for so many years, you kind of find a way to achieve the look that you're after without killing yourself. No problem. So the format that we're going to follow in this podcast is to have a guest like Joe, although nobody's quite like Joe. And we are going to find out a little bit about Joe. And then we're going to find out a little bit about the parent that our guests would like to ask a question of. And then we'll find out what the question is. And Dr. Neil Dickman will kind of analyze it and look around and see what could be resolved. And I'll tell you, I'd like to get this out there, the reason for this podcast. I have been doing video memoirs for the past four or five years. And I find that usually it's the son or the daughter of, say, an 80-year-old who wants to get the video memoir of their parents. And every time they talk to us, they say, look, there's a lot about my parents' life that I don't know. And I would like to be able to walk away from watching their video memoir saying, wow, I learned something about their life I didn't know before. And it's kind of that quest that people have that for people who don't have that parent left anymore, their parent is no longer alive, we would like to kind of explore what if that question could be asked. And that's where Dr. Neil Dickman will take over and kind of analyze what could be gleaned from the question. So following the format, Neil, did you want to say something? I do. And this is a first-time comment. I would rather not use the word analyze. OK. Because what I want to do is help prompt the person to both think about and ask the question and then maybe ask some questions about why that question and what meaning it has for them, et cetera, et cetera, or if their parent was here, what do they think they would say. Analyze, it just feels a little too clinical. OK, fair point, fair point. All right, so part two, then. Yeah. Part two, Joe, is tell us, and it was your father that you wanted to ask a question of, right? Before we go, I just wanted to make a comment. We all kind of do this self-deprecating thing. You go, well, I guess I have mild ADHD. I was very impressed that you're across platforms have found a way to express yourself, you know, both in art and in your professional life. It was just an impressive resume from my point of view. So I just wanted to kind of get that out there. Oh, thank you. Yeah. Thank you, I appreciate it. So Joe, tell us something about your father, then. So my father was a very larger-than-life figure. I think when I talked to you, Mel, about this, I did wish that there was some way to visually represent this podcast, because I think, like your video memoirs, you know, I'll describe my father, and I think I'll do a good job, because, you know, he's so ingrained in my memory. He was, as a young man, looked a lot like Dean Martin. So he was a very, you know, traditionally, classically handsome guy, real dark, kind of Southern Italian look. You know, he had that olive skin, beautiful black head of hair with a widow's peak. And he could grow an amazing mustache, which he didn't start really growing until he got a little older. I took after my mother. My mother was very fair. She was Northern Italian, Torino, that area. So for an Italian of second generation, I'm, you know, I was six, three and a half, I guess. You know, blue eyes, kind of olive skin, but fair. Not hairy at all. Can't grow a good beard and mustache to save my life. I think if I started now and lived to be 100, and it would take me a month of Sundays, I would never still get anywhere near. His mustache was amazingly large. You're, you know, almost, not to his ears, but it was like, came out like in a sort of a handlebar that he didn't wax. And he was very particular about it, very fastidious. He used a straight razor to trim it, long as I can remember. And ironically, when he passed away at 90 years old, I told the funeral director, under no circumstances do I want anybody, do we want anybody, our family, touching that mustache. That's the way he wants it, exactly how it looks, you know. It was gray at that point and thick, you know. So sure enough, we get to the funeral home, and there's my father with this perfectly trimmed mustache. But, you know, at that point, what could I do? I mean, we had almost kind of laughed, because, you know, you can't put it back together, you know. But that was the only time that anybody else had touched that mustache. Probably started growing it when he was 40. The only time he shaved it was after my brother passed away, which was obviously a very dark period in all of our lives. My older brother was 22, I was 10. So that was 1972. He shaved it. My dad was very superstitious. He shaved it before my brother passed, actually, thinking that, you know, he would do anything to try to cure my brother's rare form of lung cancer, you know. And sadly, you know, that actually changed the whole arc of my life when my father or my brother passed, because my father went from this very happy, hilarious, you know, no one knew more jokes than my dad. He was just, I mean, he had an aura about him. I mean, it was just, you would have had to have seen it to understand it. But it was, I'd never seen anything like it. But that, when my father, when my brother passed, my father, who had been in the seminary before he got engaged to my mother years before, who was a very religious and spiritual man, stopped going to church, stopped celebrating Christmas, was angry, obviously, at God and everything. And I mean, I once saw my father when he was, my brother was at the throes of his, you know, dying. I was 10 when this happened. So I remember, you ever hear when someone takes a penny and they throw it for good luck? Sure. My father reached into his pocket, and we were going into the hospital, and he threw a handful of change over my neighbor's house. And it looked like diamonds in the sky, and the light hit it. And I asked him what he was doing, and he just said, well, you know, you throw a penny for good luck. And it had to be $4 worth of change, you know. And as a kid, I just couldn't really wrap my head around that. But, you know, it actually, you know, my two sisters that were left, that were older than me, I was the youngest, and my mom and dad. And, you know, where that could sometimes pull a family and really tear them apart and kind of galvanize our family. And my father, he kind of made peace with things. You know, a year later, my sister had a baby, our nephew. That really helped sort of start to heal my dad. But when my father had open-heart surgery when he was 67, I think, I think he thought he was going to die on the table, you know. He had to remember this was a 90-year-old man when he passed. So he had that surgery, you know, probably in 19, I don't know, 87 or something. But... Did you throw any coins for him? Pardon me? Did you throw any coins for him? No, no. No, I didn't throw any coins. But he survived, and it was like a switch flip, you know. He started going to church again, and he, I think he just felt like he made his peace somehow. And so, yeah, you know, he had a, you know, throughout all that, he was always there for everybody in the family. He, you know, he was fiercely loyal, a great friend. He didn't drink. He wasn't a drinker. I saw him, one time I saw him get drunk, and it was a guy in our neighborhood, Joe Van, whose son had died in the Vietnam War. And my father and him, you know, got really drunk, and that was the only time I ever saw my dad drink. He just wasn't a drinker, you know. But he was such a funny guy. He could have been a comedian. I mean, he knew more jokes than anybody. I mean, he could do any dialect. He could do any accent. Spoke Italian. He, you know, he only went to school until he was at Cass Tech. He dropped out in 10th grade to help his parents with their store, and then he ended up, you know, going to, you know, the war, World War II, when he was 18 and 19. And then he became a policeman after the war. So he told a funny story. He used to tell funny stories. So he went, he got sent to Korea, or the Philippines, I'm sorry, and he said, you know, we had this sergeant that just hated, he hated Italians, and he hated Polacks. That's what he said. Bagels and Polacks. He hated us. He said, and we tried everything we could to get out of that outfit. And he got, you know, we, a bunch of us were able to transfer out. So he goes, I got sent to Hawaii, of all places. Now, a week later, half that unit got wiped out. It got transferred out of, wow. So he went to Hawaii, and he used to say, I never saw any action in Hawaii the whole time I was there, except for some of the natives, but that was it. But when he was there, there was, you know, there was two hotels. That was it. So he had a chance to go back there as a serviceman, you know, you could go back, and he would have been able to buy land, like, really cheap, you know. And he loved Hawaii. He just described it. Now, think about it. He came from Detroit. Hawaii, my God, right? So he said, you know, I come back, and my mom is like, you know, Joey, it's just so good to have you home. Oh, my God. Oh, you know, and we love single male, you know. So they're just kissing, and even my grandfather, who, you know, never looked like he ever cracked a smile in any photo I ever saw, he was hugging my father. You don't even have to work. You kind of sit here and relax. My dad said, you know, it's amazing. Like, you know, he just said, but I'm going back to Hawaii. I'm going to buy land. Don't go, Joey. They kept asking us, okay. So he decides to stay because he gets homesick. And about four days later, my grandfather, he said, hey, you lazy son of a bitch, you're not going to get a job? I didn't see that coming. That's a great job. So he said he ended up working at a Hudson Motor Company, and then after that, he decided to become a policeman. And, you know, they wouldn't let him become a policeman because he was Italian. And they interviewed my grandmother, and they said, you know, in this neighborhood, you know, you're either a thief or a priest, you know, and he's no priest. My dad was always a rule follower, and he ended up, you know, he ended up becoming a policeman. So he was a destroyed policeman for 25 years, and then he retired, became an investigator with the McComb County Prosecutor's Office, and then, you know, like 40, I don't know, 45 years in law enforcement, I believe, before he retired. Okay. So I think we got a pretty good picture of you and a pretty good picture of your dad. So now, following the name of this podcast, what would be a question you would like to ask your dad, if you were still around? What year did he pass away? Oh, God, it was, so 1990, it was October of 2015, I think. Okay, so nine years ago? Almost nine years. Okay. So your dad passed away nine years ago, and what would be the question that you would like to ask him, if you were around? Man, you know, there's so many. I mean, you know, I think I told you, you know, after my brother passed away, the one thing that afforded me is I never let anything be left unsaid with my loved ones, you know? And so we talked a lot, and I mean, I definitely went over a lot of things of his life, you know, parts of his life with him. I guess one of them would be, did he ever regret not pursuing something larger than the scope of what was in front of him as a, you know, a policeman? Like, would he have liked to have went to Hollywood, you know, try to become an actor or a comedian? And it's funny, because that was a dream that I kind of sort of developed and had as I got a little older, and I actually did go to Hollywood for a couple of weeks and just knew that I did not have that drive to finish it out. And I don't know if it's generational or not, but my son ended up there without knowing anybody and, you know, to get into music, and he actually did it. So maybe it took three times the charm, I'm not sure. You know, it's not uncommon, it's certainly true in my case, that sons who have fathers that they don't look up to, they unconsciously pick up on the part of their lives that weren't complete and try to act them out, try to become that. It's never stated, it's just, there's just kind of awareness between father and son, and they either go into, like, I ended up traveling all over the world a lot. And my dad never watched TV, except for George Perrault, the only TV he watched, and movies, you know. George Perrault was the guy who did travel shows. Yeah, the travel show. And that's all he would watch. And somehow from that, I, you know, I, you know, sort of, it's not like I said, my dad didn't travel, so I'm going to travel. It's much, you know, much beneath the surface, much more unconscious. So I wonder if, and then your son ended up doing, you know, completing your journey. I wonder if that isn't part of it, that you might have sensed that from him. Yeah, I mean, I think there's probably something to that, and I do agree with you. I mean, you know, my father was such a strong figure in my life, and my sisters, and later, you know, all of my kids, and my nephews and nieces, you know, and he always, he just sort of had that wisdom, you know, he wasn't like a classically or collegiately educated man, but he had a lot of, obviously a lot of street smarts, dealing with some of the worst kind of people for, you know, many, many years. And, you know, and it is funny that you mentioned travel, because he said, he always said he was going to travel after he retired, and he hardly did. And I know part of it was he worried a little bit about, he had a Teflon valve that they had done, and I think he, he was always on blood thinners, and I think he worried that like somehow he'd be overseas and something would happen, you know, I mean, it's a little different, you know, I think back then it was a little different for people. Traveling was a little more of a riskier thought to some people that had maybe grown up not, you know, not a lot. I mean, you know, my dad grew up not a wealthy man, and you know, certainly, I mean, we grew up in a 700 square foot duplex on the east side of Detroit, you know, so we really never had a lot, we never felt like we, you know, were poor by any means, but we were lower middle class, I mean, it's just the way it was. So maybe travel wasn't as, you know, and then maybe that, and maybe that's why he didn't feel like he could grab his brass ring, you know, but he certainly had the talent and the ability for it. I mean, I, countless people over the years would tell me, you know, stories, and I mean, he went on a fishing trip with me one time with my wife's cousins, first and only trip he ever went on. He was probably 80 at the time. We went up to, you know, northern Michigan. I'm in a cab with about 25 guys, and my dad hardly knew, and he must have told 35, 40 jokes, and the whole place was, they couldn't stop laughing. I mean, they wanted him to tell more, and he just finally, you know, I'm going to bed, you know, that kind of thing. He was just unbelievable, you know. So I got nothing but fond memories of him, and I told him all that, you know, when you have a parent that lives long, you sometimes take that for granted that everybody else had the same experience, you know, and then they start telling you, man, I wish my father was around, you know, when my kids were born or whatever, you know. So I feel really blessed to have had him in my life that long. So you clearly, you're a lucky guy. You had a really, you know, you had a really great father. You know, that's a blessing, really, and I can see that, you know, the kind of love that just comes out of you. It's really nice, the love you had for him. Does that affect how you see yourself? Sometimes with a father larger than life, the son never, you know, they're kind of feeling like they're falling short in some way. You know, it's funny you say that. You know, there's a really amazing author from Michigan that I admire, and I'm sure a lot of people in your audience will have heard of him, Jim Harrison. Jim Harrison, he said something once that I never forgot. I don't even know if it was in a book or if it was just a quote of his, but he said that, you know, when a man's father dies, that's the last person on earth, the last man he ever wants to impress, that he feels like he has to impress. And in some ways, it's as bad as it can be for you to physically lose your father. There's some kind of weird freeing element that might happen, you know. And, you know, my father, I mean, I'm, you know, as an artist, especially growing up and going to art school, they were so supportive of me all the time. I mean, and it was not the experience of a lot of my friends. I went to art school, and they were like... I was wondering about that. Yeah, they were, you know, they were like, you know, your parents support you doing this? And I'm like, oh, yeah. I go, don't you hear us? I'm like, oh, God, no. You know, and then, you know, this is this... Oh, yeah, it was the cops. So there's that. Yeah, there's the Baltic Italian, you know, man. But he always was really proud and supportive of everything I did. And, you know, I'm not... And I tried to be this way with my kids. He was never... He never, like, blew me up with falsity. It wasn't like, no one's better than you, you know, you're the best, and this and that. But it was just encouraging, you know, if I needed art supplies, or when I was a kid, or if I was entering poster contests, or whatever it was, you know, they were both of them. My mother and father both were very, very supportive, you know. So, you know, I don't, I do feel like I, what I took from my father, either unconsciously or consciously, and I tried to live up to it is, I just always wanted to be a really good role model for my children. I wanted to have them have a father they were proud of. I wanted, you know, it's important to me that my friends know that I love them. And that I'm a good friend to them, because I think kids copy what they see, you know. And I have three daughters, three beautiful daughters, and a son. And it's just as important for him. I don't, you know, I wanted him to, when he talks to a woman, you know, I want him to treat them a certain way. And when my girls are looking for mates, I want them to look for a certain type of guy, you know. So, you know, you can do all that and be unlucky, too. But I think you, I think you kill about 95% of the bad stuff by just not being an asshole around your kids. I mean, it's okay for your kids to see you get in an argument with your wife or have a disagreement. But how you treat your wife, you know, I told all this a friend of mine when I was just, my wife was pregnant with Gino, my son. I said to him, I said, man, I hope I'll be a good father, you know. And he said, Joe, the best way to be a good father is love their mother. And I never forgot that. It was simple advice, but, you know, I don't know. So I took those things from my dad. My mother and father had a really loving relationship. Always held hands, laughed, joked, you know, he made her laugh. That was important to me. A lot of laughter in my house, you know. All right, well, I'm going to rein you in from that here, Joe, because I think we've wandered a bit far from the question that you wanted to ask your dad, which is, you know, does he regret not having gone to Hollywood? Yeah, yeah, yeah. Try to be a, you know, have a career there. Right. So, Neil, do you have other thoughts about that? I do, but it's not, it's not actually, so I had this conversation. I think fathers of our generation, Joe, my guess is he would have said, no, I have no regrets. I got, you know, you know, I have my children and my wife and, you know, that's, that's and they didn't know that was who they were, you know. But I wonder if, if he could, if he could step out of being that generation of father, which he couldn't. But if you can kind of, in your mind, imagine him stepping out of it and giving you the deeper answer, you know, that not, not just what, was that true, which is he loved you guys and he felt like he had a full life. But that two things can be true at the same time. And you could be disappointed that you didn't get to stretch your legs a little bit more. How do you think he would respond if you could have that question, conversation with him? I mean, I think, I think he would, you know, he, the only thing he would have probably changed, you know, in his life, obviously it was the death of my brother. I mean, there's just no, there was no singular moment that I can think of that, you know, maybe I asked the wrong question when you told me, maybe that was the question, you know what I mean? But, you know, my brother, you know, he was, he was 22 when he passed and he was just bigger than me. You know, he was a bigger version of me as far as like just everything, thicker features and strong and powerful. And, you know, he ended up getting this really weird, rare form of lung cancer. I think what Steve McQueen had was related to asbestos. That usually doesn't manifest itself till you're 20 years, 30 years after you're exposed. He died when he was 22 and it was quick. And, you know, he was probably 160 pounds when he passed. And, you know, so maybe, maybe that's the question, you know, it's like, you know, you know, let me rephrase it. Yeah, my brother's death for a while caused me to possibly not want to get married and not even have kids because I saw the pain that it created in my, my mother and father and just in my life, my life as well, right? And I think he would say he wouldn't have changed anything, obviously, except that he would have given his life for my brother. But I know myself that when I look back on things that I, God, I should have done this. I should have not gotten assailed. I should have stayed at Northern and got my teaching degree. All those things have a, you know, a ripple effect. And I would never have met my wife. I would have never had the kids that I have. And there's nothing, nothing worth, you know, even in your most selfish moments, I don't think my father would have ever, ever wanted to change anything for what he, what he got back from my mom and from us kids and even the short time he had. I have a question for your dad. Well, you know, I don't know if anybody can answer this. But what was your brother's name? Douglas, Doug. When Doug died, Dad, did that change you? How did that affect you? Now that, you know, just to hear it from him, you could see it, but that would be, if it was my dad, I'd want to hear kind of how he thought about it, how he talked about it. Would that be something or would it be too raw? Well, I mean, given, given that, you know, yeah, you're, the only way you could ask that question is if I guess we were both together again. Yeah, yeah. But, you know, I think, yeah, I think the answer to that was pretty clear. You know, something in him got ruined. And, and I think because I was so connected to my parents. And, you know, when things happen at a certain point in your life, the imprint they have, I mean, you know, a month can make a difference in how it affects you. You know, for me, a year earlier, my best friend had just gotten run over by a bus. And, you know, I was, the fall was a terrible time for me because I love the fall, but that's when a lot of really bad things happened. And a year later, year and a half later, my brother ended up passing away. And, you know, I remember, I just remember how I went from this really happy, active person to this, like I withdrew and I, and I, I escaped into my artwork a lot more than I ever had. I became, I, you know, now they would just tell you, like, you know, back then they would tell you to snap out of it. You know, you got the blues, but it affected me. It was definitely a depression. I mean, I've talked to a, I've talked to a therapist about this a couple of years back and it really, it was very helpful. You know, at the same time, this was all happening within this like little time span. I had a priest a couple of years later, try to bless me as an altar boy. We had about three or four pedophiles at our grade school. I never told my father about it. I fought him off. I was really lucky. That all happened within like a three year span, you know, a lot of, a lot of, a lot of stuff to deal with. A lot of trauma, a lot of trauma. Yeah. And, and I know that my brother's death took a lot from all of us. And I know my father, you know, my mother was the hero in that relationship because she held everybody together, you know. And she brought him out of, I think, out of his darkness by just staying there and being present, you know, and keeping the family, you know, just as much in, in doing us with as much love as she could, you know. You know, I am, I'm not the therapist here, but, but Joe, you know, you said, you know, when it happened to you, you withdrew and you got depressed. And when I hear about your dad not going to church anymore, tell me if I'm wrong, Neil, but I hear, I hear anger behind that, not depression. You know, I mean, I'm angry at God. I'm angry at the world. Is that a fair point or? Are you asking me or Neil? I think it's a, I mean, it's a very quick, it's a right question though. So, you know, I'll let Joe answer it. Yeah, definitely, definitely. It was definitely anger, you know, I mean, I think he felt like, what did my brother ever do? You know, and you got to remember, this is a guy who's been around murderers and thieves and rapists and, you know, arrested many of them. And they'd went through the 67 rebellion, riot, whatever you want to refer to it as in that parlance. But he, you know, he's seen the worst of a lot of people over his lifetime. And then I think he just felt like, here's this, you know, what did he do? He one time told me, he goes, I just feel like he didn't get a chance. He never had a chance. And my brother was engaged. My brother was one of those guys that like lived fast, died young, obviously. But he had, you know, seven or eight girlfriends at once and was dating, you know, women that were 10 years older than him. And I mean, he's just, you know, I mean, he just like, couldn't walk down the street without running into, you know, some girl he was going to date, you know, it's just, that's how he was. And yeah, I think, you know, he was the oldest, too. So he was my dad's brother, you know, which means something to everybody and especially in Italian culture, you know. And he was a strong, strapping, you know, guy. And, you know, yeah, my dad, I'm sure, and, you know, my mother, instead of rejecting God, she became even a little more, I think, leaned on God to get her through that. And I was sort of stuck in the middle. I mean, I prayed all the time. And I'm at this, you know, pre-Vatican II church, St. Jude, surrounded by holy objects and, you know, icons. And I'm an altar boy. So I'm constantly in this sort of like, you know, venerable environment. And, you know, I would question things. And of course, you know, you're that age, you're, you know, your hormones are going crazy. You know, you're interested in girls and, you know, all this other stuff's going on in your life and very awkward stage for, you know, you know, a young guy. And then you're dealing with this Paul that is hanging over your, you know, your life. You know, during the period that your dad kind of changed and then kind of came back, did he change with you? No, you know, he, he, oh, well, I shouldn't say that. He became a lot more protective of all of us. But me in particular, I was the youngest. They had like two sets of kids. You know, my sister, Janet, is 10 years older than me. My brother, Doug, was 12 years older than me. And then I have a sister, Nancy, who's only three years older than me. And then I wasn't planned on. My mother and I both almost died at birth. I was over 10 pounds and breech, you know. And so we were really, there was like two sets of kids, you know. And yeah, so that, you know, my brother was my hero, obviously. And, but my dad, you know, became, he became a little more protective, you know, wanted to know where I was at all times. I mean, even when I was older, I mean, I was, you know, I lived at home for a while. You know, it's probably, you know, my early 20s. I remember I was downtown and I, you know, my dad used to tell me, he goes, if you're going to come home at four in the morning, and you tell me you'll be home at four in the morning, that's fine. Don't come home at 4.30. Yeah. Because that half hour, that's the half hour that makes people's hair go gray, you know. That's what he used to say, you know. So Mel, where do you think we are at this point? Yeah, I would call him, you know, I would call him and go, Dan, I'm going to be going to a party. I'm going to be another hour or whatever, just because that was peace of mind for him. And I understood it, but a lot of my friends thought I was nuts. I'm like, hey, man, if that makes him rest easy, I'm calling him, you know. All right, so Neil had asked me where we think we are with this. So I think, all right, we started out where you wondered if your dad regretted not going to Hollywood to try to have some sort of career there, you know, in show business. But you've changed the question to, do you have any regrets? And, you know, and what changed about you after Doug died? Where do you take it from there, Neil? I would say, like, so if your dad was here right now, Joe, and you looked at him and said, Dad, after Doug died, you know, you stopped going to church. You became way more protective of me. Yet, you know, you still kept your career. You still kept going to work every day. You know, put one foot in front of the other every day. How'd you do that? How did you keep going on? And what was your outlook? I mean, and now you're your dad. So how do you answer that? As your dad, not as you? I think he would say I had an obligation to stay, you know, stay strong for all of you as best I could. Despite his transparency, which I had this, I had the same attribute, you know, I'm horrible at hiding my feelings. You know, people know exactly how I feel when something's bothering me. All right, but keep saying his voice. Don't don't give us your voice. What's he saying? Yeah, I think he would say, I did it for all of you, you know, and I was angry. I was angry and it was hard to no matter how hard I tried, I could not hide that anger. But eventually, I was able to make my peace and get through it by, you know, considering that I had three kids that were still alive and a wife that was still alive and I had to, I had to keep living. All right, then I would say, and you answer again as your dad, at what cost? At what cost to you? That's a tough question to answer. Pride. I think the pride of being able to like feel like, you know, I'm going to show I'm going to show God that, you know, I don't need him in my life. And instead of instead of I think the cost was instead of having some years where we could have maybe had that little bit of mourning and then moved on and had some enjoyable times. The cost was a few ruined Christmases. I don't think, speaking for my dad, I don't think I took into account that at 10 years old, a kid needed his Christmases and, you know, a 13-year-old daughter needed her Christmases. You know, it was tough for my sisters. My sister was three years older than me and my one sister was 10 years older. So she came back from California to, you know, help my family. And so I think that the pride my father had kind of got to him a little bit in that regard. And that would be that would be some of the collateral damage. But the one thing he never did was he never did anything so bad that made us want to flee. You know, it wasn't like there was stuff getting thrown and yellow. It was just sounds like it sounds like he fell short of his own standards for himself. Yeah, yeah, you know, understandably. I mean, you know, given what happened. But it sounds like that disappointment may have gotten in the way of being as full a father for you and your sister as he might have wanted to be. Do you think you think that's true, Joe? Yeah, I mean, probably to an extent. You know, I told Mel this one time, no one loved his job more than my dad did. You know, and I think he I think he also like lost a lot of himself in that work for a while. He had an escape. My mother being a homemaker, you know, didn't work outside the house. But certainly that's work. You know, she was sort of like she didn't drive either. So my mom, you know, had issues alone a lot in the house. And all she had was her neighbor friends and some of the lady friends she had. And her kids, you know. So I think the distractions my dad had were a little bit, you know, helpful for him. And my mom was left to sort of like pull us together, which she did. And but, you know, again, as a as a family, we were it was, you know, it was a weird dynamic It was a weird dynamic because, you know, like I said, I was 10, my sister was 13, and my other sister was, you know, 20. So you had this disparity of ages, you know, all affecting. How does that affect you? You know, having having losing somebody that close to you and just, you know, they're gone. One thing, Joe, that so to me, the more, I don't know, the story of life that you hear more often is that somebody, you know, not so crazy about his dad. But when you take the time to look around and say, you know, well, he had this going on in his life. He had that going on in his life. And you go, yeah, you know what? Yeah, he did what he had to do. He faced up. And yeah, I guess he was a pretty good guy. And well, and if I sum up what I'm hearing your story, because you started out saying, my dad, funniest guy on earth, great guy, love him, shared his feelings, everything. And then, but, you know, he ruined Christmas. He didn't, you know, and then he got mad at God. And it's almost like there was a little bit of, you started out with this grand image of wonderful dad. And now it's getting more like, you know, well, he had, he definitely had his flaws and faults. Oh, yeah. I mean, my, you know, my father was certainly not perfect by any means. But, you know, it's hard to articulate it exactly, because, you know, the guy lived 90 years. So, you know, I was able to sort of see the valleys and the peaks. And there were far more peaks than valleys, by all means. The valley that we went down, you know, it just happened to come at a time for me. And this is my own experience. Again, that's, my sisters might have a completely different viewpoint of this. And my mother was 93 when she passed away. She went around to confirm any of it. But when he hit his valley, my valley was also, like, starting. You know, I had just lost an uncle, a grandfather, a grandmother. And then my best friend got killed. And then, you know, not very long after, my brother died. And then a year later, another friend of mine moved to Port Aaron. He got killed. And then I had the thing happen with the Hippocrates. So there was this confluence of valleys going on there. And, you know, I think for my father, he was probably immersed so hard in his own grief that, you know, I think all of us would, you know, would get clouded to some degree. You know, he was so tender with me when my brother passed. I remember just thinking, like, I'll never forget. He was like, hey, it's okay, man. He's not in any pain anymore. You know, and he hugged me and, you know, held me. And he was a very warm person. And so, you know, I was very fortunate, I guess, when I think about it now. He knew in that way that, you know, I needed that. I needed that physical touch. And he certainly passed that on to me because I've always been that way with my kids. You know, I know I have a lot of friends whose fathers never hugged them, never told them they loved them. I never had any of that. So, you know, thankfully in my life, I was always told how much I was loved. I was hugged. We all, you know, I don't know, it's sort of a dichotomy, I suppose. But, again, I think that his valley and my valleys were really connected, you know. After that, and after he had his, especially after he had that heart operation, he really changed. And a lot of great things happened between that time. The birth of my nephew really helped a lot. I think all kids that have lost their parents, especially both parents, when, you know, you say you're an orphan now, I mean, it's a strange feeling. I have to go in just a little bit. I want to make sure, Joe, you get some closure around this. Is there anything you would like to say or ask now before we kind of pull this together? Would that help? I'm just wondering if you have anything, I'm going to have to go in a little bit. I'm wondering if you feel like there's anything undone in the conversation, any, you know, comment or thought you want to. No, I mean, I was going to say, I think that you're going to find in this podcast that you're at, you're going to have, you're going to find a lot of people like me who lost one or both parents lost one or both parents that, you know, they're going to start out thinking one thing and the more they talk, they're going to go down different roads, you know, which I think that that's one of the things that, you know, no matter what happens in your life, I mean, you only have that one father and mother and they do, you know, you hit on it, Mel, a little bit. They are, they're doing the best they can, especially, you know, that generation didn't have technology and the distractions of our lives, you know, 24-hour news cycles and Facebook and although my mom really loved Facebook, but you know what I mean? It was like there was, you know, there was just more of a focus on different things, but they were, you know, hardworking people and they tried to set, most of them tried to set good examples and, you know, especially in Detroit, like the work ethic was, you know, I think a big component of our lives and, you know, some of the fathers were less present. I mean, it was certainly not like it is now where you went to every single sporting event, you know, I mean, like. Right, right. Yeah, yeah. I'm going to try to tie this interview with a bow by asking you a question, Joe, that you can tell me to go to hell or not, but let's, you're in your early 60s, so let us say you die at 90 and of course, Neil and I are still around and we're interviewing your son, Gino. What question do you think when we say, now, what would you have liked to have asked your dad, Joe? What would he say? Oh, God. He would, he would probably, he would probably ask a similar question. Do you regret not, not going out and trying to somehow become famous as a, as some kind of actor or performer? I mean, it's just so funny. I can't think of anything else he would ask. You know, really, him and I have talked about those things so often. Yeah. And he actually went and did it. And he didn't, you know, he just was innately talented from a young age. I mean, he just, he had that it factor, you know, he just always has. I, I would bet it would be something like that. Well, we'll let you know when we get there. When we talk to him in 20 years, we'll let you know. Yeah. Joe, you are always famous with us. And we thank you for being the very first guest on Questions I Wish I'd Asked My Parents. Thank you so much, Joe. And it's MotorCityJoe.com? Yeah, that's the same as Instagram as Motor City Joe. And yeah, thank both of you. I appreciate it. I hope, you know, I mean, it's, it's a, it's a tough thing to do over a Zoom sometime. And, you know, it's a, again, I wish I had visuals to show you, but anybody that wants to see pictures of my dad, they're on my, they're on my Facebook. I really enjoyed hearing about him, genuinely. Thank you. It's kind of, those are big, fathers like that, I had one, I believe also, are kind of unsung heroes, you know, nobody ever, but, you know, it takes a lot to carry yourself that, you know, that well, through life. So, it's neat. Thank you. Thank you very much, guys. All righty. Take care. Bye-bye. Bye.