Dadblast Salute: Happy 66th B-day, Eli!

Today I thought I’d give a shout-out to my wife’s father, my father in-law, who turns 66 today. Eli Mladenoff is his name, and living an unassuming life is his game.

I first met Eli about 10 years ago, and was struck by how large and dignified he looked: soap-opera-perfect salt-and-pepper hair framing a handsome face with a modestly chiseled jaw. But it was his eyes that I couldn’t stop looking at.

See, his daughter Bixie has those same eyes. For that matter the whole Mladenoff clan seems to share basically the same face – which is at once true and false. It’s true because if you meet one of them having already met the rest, you can instantly tell they’re from the same family. It’s false because, sitting side-by-side, they each possess unique characteristics that serve to assure the viewer that he or she hasn’t walked into an alternate universe in which everyone is expected be a carbon copy of Eli Mladenoff.

The Big Easy, as I sometimes call the gentle giant, was born to off-the-boat Macedonian parents (Jordan and Pauline), and it is their genetic coding – deep, dark smiling eyes – that pervades Family Mladenoff. Those attributes have also been infused into the genes of my own son, Gus.

And knowing Eli as I do, I have to believe that his parents instilled in him the sort of Old World ethics and ABSOLUTE devotion to family uncommon in this country today. Perhaps that’s a naïve, romantic view of Eli’s Macedonian ancestry. But when I think about the big guy’s human kindness, his fundamental decency, I can’t help picture a subtitled film playing in my head in which his otherworldly parents teach young Eli the values they cherish:

MOTHER (Majka): “No matter what, you must always sacrifice for the sake of your wife and children. Always. Do you understand?”

YOUNG ELI: “Yes, Majka. Of course. Now, can I make you some tea or massage your feet? Perhaps I can wash the laundry by hand for you?”

PAPA: “One more thing, my son. We are not asking you to be perfect, for no one is perfect. If you honor us by always doing the right thing for your family, you are permitted to have one vice, and one vice only. Choose wisely.”

YOUNG ELI: “Yes, Papa. That’s easy! For my vice I shall choose vanilla cream donuts, and I will sneak off to eat them every day, rain or shine. Now, can I please go do some yard work or other chores to help you? Maybe I should go chop up a winter’s worth of firewood?”

And so on.
I’ve watched Eli interact with his three daughters and one son, and the one constant in all of this is how absolutely devoted he is to their collective and individual happiness. And now his kids have rewarded Eli by having their own children, which has made Eli a happy man, indeed.

I can’t speak for anyone else, but when I watch the Big Easy gather my son into his considerable lap for a long, cozy snuggle, I think to myself: that’s one lucky kid.

And when I watch Eli rush off to help one of his own daughters in need of assistance – day or night; rain or snow – I think to myself: that’s one lucky kid.

And when I watch Eli get up early to make his wife Claudia a pot of coffee, or to walk down to the basement to switch the laundry, I think to myself: that’s one lucky wife.

And when I listened to Eli’s heart-warming speech the day I took his daughter Bixie’s hand in marriage, I thought to myself: I’m one lucky guy.

Of course, Eli isn’t perfect. Everyone knows that at least a few times a week he sneaks around behind our backs for an indulgence he’d rather not openly discuss.

But if you happen to spot a sprinkling of powered sugar on his cheek, he won’t deny that he had the vanilla cream-filled donut. Instead he’ll break into that Santa Clause laugh and tell you, without remorse, that it was delicious.

One lucky guy indeed.

Happy Birthday, Eli!