My father spent most of his life trying not to be his father. I’ve spent and will continue to try being more like mine.Do You See Me | Behind the Song

There’s no shortage of things I can write of my father. He was a remarkable man, my best man—taken before his time. I’m still discovering new ways to remember and honor him. Perhaps I always will.

I’ve been teaching for many years, now, and it’s safe to say I demand a nominal level of effort and autonomy. I subscribe to high standards and modest expectations. My father was a man of his word and I’ve little patience for those who aren’t—Do what you say, say what you mean.

I credit many influences and mentors. Mom, Dad, and my wife regularly inspire me more than most. There’s a great deal of comfort growing into the feet your father gave you, awakening to his principles and values better recognized by those who need them most.

“Never give up, always keep your word and never lose the person you were meant to be,” as encouraged by Dad and forwarded by one of Dad’s students. God’s providently revealing the person I’m meant to be. I always keep my word and when I gave up, Dad was there every week for a year—one of very few folks who helped pick me up, dust me off and ran alongside the bike while I regained my balance.

Thank you, Dad. Thank you, Matt, for projecting the strength of his otherwise fragile heart.

Mr. Hartman
by Matt Banks

In the summer of 2007, my dad introduced me to his long-time friend, Brad Hartman, who was to be my new golf coach. What started as a simple student/teacher relationship, soon turned into a friendship that could only be described as odd. Mr. Hartman was a detective with the New Jersey State Police and I was the laid-back southern kid. Mr. Hartman was an excellent teacher and was able to teach me more about golf in one lesson than I had learned in years, but he wasn’t just teaching me about golf. The lessons that he was giving me were lessons that were valuable on and off the course. He preached to me three lessons that would lead to success. “Never give up, always keep your word and never lose the person you were meant to be.” These all three sound like simple lessons that every kid has learned, yet I learned them in ways that only he could teach me.

During one of my first lessons with Mr. Hartman, I learned the lesson of never giving up. We were probably three buckets and two hours into practice when my melt down occurred. I had hit the same shot all day and had yet to meet his standard for the shot. That is when I decided I had enough and was done for the day. Mr.Hartman grabbed my arm and stopped me from leaving. Our egos began to clash—the tough-as-nails cop versus the laid back southern kid. After a discussion that would have put a drill sergeant to shame, I went back to do the drill. At that moment in time I wanted to quit golf forever, but I proceeded to hit the best shots of the day. After another hour of the drill, we played nine holes and I shot the best score of my life. With open blisters on my hands and feet and having lost my temper more than once in the 90-degree heat, I learned the true meaning of giving it your blood, sweat and tears.

A few years later, our friendship had grown and I was now calling him just “Hartman.” We played golf at least once a week and he was still my coach. It was at this time that he taught me the second key to success. I told Hartman that I would meet him at the course at 8:30. When I finally arrived around 9 o’clock, Hartman was infuriated. He explained to me that when you decide to do something, you do it. If you say you are going to be there at 8:30, be there early. He said that a man’s word is all a man has and once it is gone he is left with nothing. It doesn’t matter if the promise is big or small. Hartman was always a man of his word and he hated having to break a promise or commitment. My punishment for the day was that I had to walk all 18 holes as he rode along beside me. I blew off his little lesson and didn’t think much of it. What I hadn’t realized is that I had taken his lesson to heart and was later doing exactly what he told me. Others could see the changes when I couldn’t. I never got the chance to thank Hartman for that lesson because he passed away a short time after.

The third lesson Hartman taught me is the best one of all. Mr.Hartman was a man who always seemed out of place. While living in New Jersey, he pulled for the Miami Dolphins and while living in the south, he thought my southern state of mind was lazy. Wherever Hartman was, he seemed out of place, yet he was always comfortable in his own skin. The day he caught me acting like a spoiled little rich boy, he lectured me far more than my own father would have. Hartman did things his way and never let anyone change him. He sucked up to no one, but respected and treated everyone as his equal. He pushed everyone around him to the limit in an effort to make them the best they could be. He told me that God had a plan for his “small town southern kid” as long as I stuck to working hard and kept being myself. I never knew how important that statement was until I attended his memorial. Every person there told stories about Hartman and it seemed he had taught every person some kind of lesson.

Mr. Hartman was a coach, a friend and a father figure. He pushed me to my limit and made me a better person. The lessons he taught me were simple, yet they were lessons I needed to learn. Hartman was one of the first adults to treat me as an equal and one of the few to show a large interest in me. He was more than a friend and a coach. He was simply, “Hartman.”