Introduction
The Beginning
I had my first “job” when I was twelve years old. I remember going to church one Sunday, and my father introduced me to a man named John Kafka. He held out his hand to shake mine, and as a twelve-year-old, I simply took his hand, but he shook mine with a death grip. He said to me, “Danny, it is nice to meet you. May I tell you something that will help you with your future?” I said, “Yes, sir.” He replied, “Whenever you shake someone’s hand, show confidence. You squeeze that person’s hand, so they know you are confident. A good, firm handshake says a lot about who you are to others.” I will never forget that first lesson he gave me.
My father had always taught me to show respect for others, not to lie, and to work hard. I still think my dad talked to John Kafka beforehand and asked him to become a mentor to me at the tender age of twelve. John Kafka was the president of Pollock Johnny’s, a polish sausage restaurant chain based in Baltimore, and he owned a house in a more expensive neighborhood. He was a wealthy man who had worked hard to get to where he was, yet he still wore clothes from the thrift store. He gave me a job at his house making twenty-eight dollars every Saturday to weed the rock garden behind his house and on the hill behind the in-ground pool. It was a tough job, but it strengthened my hands and arm muscles, so I didn’t have to work so hard to give a firm handshake. My dad dropped me off before he went to work and picked me up nine hours later.
I would not realize it until later, but John Kafka taught me so much about the importance of relationship. I learned that every relationship needs to be mutual; most of the time, we need to work hard at maintaining healthy relation- ships; and some of the most beneficial relationships can happen through tragic circumstances.
I will never forget the night. It was a Thursday night, and I had just finished taking a shower. My dad knocked on the bathroom door and asked if he could come in. I asked him to tell me through the door since I wasn’t decent. He said to me that John Kafka had just died that day. He was playing racquetball and