we are all taught never to burn a bridge
but what happens if you feel like it’s
justified when you’re angry and upset
for childhood memories you never had and
you look at kids kids playing and
laughing going out for ice cream and you
think I never had that and what are you
supposed to do when you feel like
lashing out for being used as a pawn in
some sick game of cat-and-mouse as a
child no less it was 1971 I was five
years old and heard my mother screaming
downstairs in the living room I ran to
find my father’s hands clenched tightly
around her neck she could barely breathe
let alone talk yet somehow she managed
to yell the words Tina get upstairs I’m
okay
my father was drunk he was totally
shit-faced and finding him nearly
choking my mother to death scared all of
the childhood right out of me that night
my life was supposed to be okay our
family lived in a tiny house in suburbia
on a busy street in Tenafly New Jersey
my father’s name was Anthony Tony
they called him the gangers he worked as
a maitre d in New York City and with his
dashing good looks and Gina take alone
he was a real showstopper he idolized
Sinatra and now that I look back he
could have been part of the Rat Pack too
and he would brag about smuggling me
into a bar as an infant too
mr. Sinatra himself it sounds like a
movie but this is my story Tony loved
the nightlife and he certainly loved his
friends he would do anything anything in
the world for them even if that meant
being late to the hospital while my
mother was in labor with me after the
divorce my father continued to be late
for everything
he missed the rent the groceries the
heat the alimony and the child support
and when he remembered to pick us up for
visitation my brother and I were
chauffeured into the back of a borrowed
car usually a Jaguar and instead of
going out for ice cream
we would drive across the George
Washington Bridge and make our way to
night clubs and gambling dens usually
hidden behind some secret door as a
little girl I learned to master the fine
art of kissing pinkie rings and the
faces of dangerous dirty old men I will
never forget being pulled and dragged
across the streets of New York City
playing a game of hide-and-go-seek
with the lone shark my father owed money
to this isn’t supposed to be how little
girls grow up at the age of 69 my father
had no choice but to stop running from
the demons that hunted him down
Tony suffered a massive stroke and lay
in ICU in a self induced coma unable to
walk talk or place a bet my brother and
I rushed to be at his bedside and were
shocked to discover that all bets were
still on our father was married yet a
fourth time to a woman we never met not
for love but for coal
hard cash and a green card we all have a
choice to burn or build the bridge no
matter what our circumstances or roads
we’ve traveled in the past even in the
backseat of a Jaguar there are more
times than not that I wanted to
retaliate and make war against my father
but I decided to play my hand
differently after my father’s death I
went on to earn a master’s degree and a
securities license
I started badass budgeting and learning
everything I could about money and
investing and planning for the future I
started my own company working in the
financial services industry I guess you
could say dad taught me a little
something about money in the end so I
ask this of you because you too have
been burned you may not have driven
around the streets of New York like a
Bronx Tale but you have your share of
Tony’s in your life will you join me in
building new bridges rather than burning
them because letting it all go is the
best route to drive
but what happens if you feel like it’s
justified when you’re angry and upset
for childhood memories you never had and
you look at kids kids playing and
laughing going out for ice cream and you
think I never had that and what are you
supposed to do when you feel like
lashing out for being used as a pawn in
some sick game of cat-and-mouse as a
child no less it was 1971 I was five
years old and heard my mother screaming
downstairs in the living room I ran to
find my father’s hands clenched tightly
around her neck she could barely breathe
let alone talk yet somehow she managed
to yell the words Tina get upstairs I’m
okay
my father was drunk he was totally
shit-faced and finding him nearly
choking my mother to death scared all of
the childhood right out of me that night
my life was supposed to be okay our
family lived in a tiny house in suburbia
on a busy street in Tenafly New Jersey
my father’s name was Anthony Tony
they called him the gangers he worked as
a maitre d in New York City and with his
dashing good looks and Gina take alone
he was a real showstopper he idolized
Sinatra and now that I look back he
could have been part of the Rat Pack too
and he would brag about smuggling me
into a bar as an infant too
mr. Sinatra himself it sounds like a
movie but this is my story Tony loved
the nightlife and he certainly loved his
friends he would do anything anything in
the world for them even if that meant
being late to the hospital while my
mother was in labor with me after the
divorce my father continued to be late
for everything
he missed the rent the groceries the
heat the alimony and the child support
and when he remembered to pick us up for
visitation my brother and I were
chauffeured into the back of a borrowed
car usually a Jaguar and instead of
going out for ice cream
we would drive across the George
Washington Bridge and make our way to
night clubs and gambling dens usually
hidden behind some secret door as a
little girl I learned to master the fine
art of kissing pinkie rings and the
faces of dangerous dirty old men I will
never forget being pulled and dragged
across the streets of New York City
playing a game of hide-and-go-seek
with the lone shark my father owed money
to this isn’t supposed to be how little
girls grow up at the age of 69 my father
had no choice but to stop running from
the demons that hunted him down
Tony suffered a massive stroke and lay
in ICU in a self induced coma unable to
walk talk or place a bet my brother and
I rushed to be at his bedside and were
shocked to discover that all bets were
still on our father was married yet a
fourth time to a woman we never met not
for love but for coal
hard cash and a green card we all have a
choice to burn or build the bridge no
matter what our circumstances or roads
we’ve traveled in the past even in the
backseat of a Jaguar there are more
times than not that I wanted to
retaliate and make war against my father
but I decided to play my hand
differently after my father’s death I
went on to earn a master’s degree and a
securities license
I started badass budgeting and learning
everything I could about money and
investing and planning for the future I
started my own company working in the
financial services industry I guess you
could say dad taught me a little
something about money in the end so I
ask this of you because you too have
been burned you may not have driven
around the streets of New York like a
Bronx Tale but you have your share of
Tony’s in your life will you join me in
building new bridges rather than burning
them because letting it all go is the
best route to drive
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