Personal Responsibility | Eastern North Carolina Now

   Publisher's note: We are most pleased, and quite humbled, to have the opportunity to bring to our readership the often reflective, and always knowledgeable words of Oncologist John Inzerillo, MD.

   This is the eighth instalment of a multi-part series, which began on June 2, 2012.

    Growing up for each of us is so different. My friend next door had a father who was a butcher, so guess what; they ate a lot of meat. His cousin, who lived one floor below him, had a dad who was a mechanic. He owned his own gas station and repair shop. Needless to say, they had nice cars, and they were the only family in the neighborhood who had their own jeep with a plow. That came in useful during the blizzards we grew up with in Connecticut. During such blizzards or "Nor'easters," I would go out at two or three in the morning while it was still snowing and begin shoveling our side walk and drive way. There was no way in hell that my father was going to miss work and it was my goal to get him out of the driveway with the least amount of angst. My father worked in a factory, so we ate five day old bread and baloney for lunch.

    At a young age I tried to take responsibility for what the morning would bring by getting out there early. During the day I had a blast with my neighborhood friends sled riding down Fleet Street. Those are some of my best memories as all of us were on the same page. It had snowed for the past 24 hours, the city plows would not arrive on our streets until after 5 PM, and we were having the time of our lives. Weren't we cold you ask? We didn't feel the cold, we were kids and we were having fun.

    As it neared five everyone started to head home to get ready for dinner. I would listen for the city trucks as the heavy metal plows would scrape along the asphalt pushing ton upon ton of snow away from the street and toward the curb. Unfortunately when a plow pushes snow forward the excess gets deposited to the lower side of the plow blade and thus my clean and clear driveway is no more. So it was back to work clearing, this time packed and heavier snow, to make a clear path for my father's arrival.

    If you have ever been to Connecticut you would know just how hilly it is. Where I grew up in Waterbury, there were a lot of Italians. I learned a number of years ago, reading an article in National Geographic magazine, that they were attracted there because Waterbury, like Rome has seven hills. We lived one street away from Hill Street. In reality it should have been called Mountain Street because it was so long and steep. One could drive up Hill Street from the direction of North Main and after about three-quarters of a mile you would level out and drive what used to be the peak. Driving along the top of the hill for another mile or so, and going just past Ideal Liquor store, (my boyhood friends Richie and Lenny own it now), you had to turn left to get off of Hill Street. Driving down the other side of the hill was prohibited because there had been too many brake failures that resulted in death of the driver and passengers. At the bottom of the hill was a busy intersection and unsuspecting drivers could also lose their lives.
Personal responsibility is our supreme responsibility. Dr. John Inzerillo speaks to the measure of accountability: Above.     photo by Stan Deatherage
    Needless to say, my father and snow storms never got along. As I grew older I began to blame my father for the bad example he set for me and my siblings. Being honest, I started to blame him for a lot, if not all of our family issues. It was only as I gained more experience in life and began making my own mistakes and living with the consequences that I came to the conclusion that my father did the best he knew. He acted in ways that he learned from others as he grew up. In many ways he acted out of fear. Fear that he would not get to work and thus not get paid. Fear that he would not have the money to fix the car, pay the rent, or buy the groceries.

    I learned that people lash out at others when they feel that they have lost control of their environment. They begin to blame others when they do not get what they want or think they need. Many times instead of dealing with an issue head on, and investigating one's own contribution to a problem, it is just plain easier to blame someone else. Wouldn't it be a better world if we could all learn to take a little more heat, deal with our own issues and live in peace?

    Another day while shoveling snow in Connecticut, the little boy Stevie, whose family lived below us, came outside and started talking and talking to me. As I stopped shoveling to listen I eventually interrupted him and said, "Wait, be quiet and listen to the silence." The snow covered city that had paralyzed all traffic was more peaceful than I had ever experienced. I hadn't experience such quietness again until many years later while skiing with my brother in the back bowl of Banff National Park in the Canadian Rockies.

    Next time I get lazy and start contemplating who I should blame for such and such a problem I am going to wait, be quiet, and listen for the silence. Oh, and by the way, I do not eat baloney or five day old bread anymore.