Talking Business with Tony Iannelli: Who are the characters in your story?

We all have a story. I have my story, and you have your story.

Some of our life stories are storybook like. Great family, financial stability, few dysfunctions, and a generally drama-free life.

But most of us have a story that’s a little more, shall I say, intriguing. We’ve had bumps in the road. We’ve had challenges we thought we could never surpass, and somehow, some way, we made it through the rain and came out the other side.

I got to thinking about who profoundly impacted and developed my story. Who are these people? Who were the people, some knowingly and some totally unaware, that made me who I am today?

In my very early years, I became a more extroverted, gregarious type, based on my surroundings. A household of 10 people, not to mention a steady run of relatives dropping by, develops your ability to communicate and adapt. With two older, tough brothers, it also taught me how to negotiate and when to fight to survive.

We had all types of relatives stopping by. They were the Italians from Brooklyn and the Irish from here in the Lehigh Valley. They couldn’t have been more different. There were a lot of characters in that bunch, and they certainly taught me the diversity of personality and thought.

Over the years of those knock-on-the-door family visits, I’ve seen saints and sinners. I’ve seen financially successful types and blue-collar hard workers trying to carve out a living. But mostly, I saw good, hard-working people that made this country great. They were family, and despite what we were doing, we dropped everything and shared the moment.

All of our family visits seemed joyous. Lots of conversation and a good amount of laughter. All this activity could be seen through clouds of cigarette smoke. There was enough food for everyone. It wasn’t what I would call the gourmet version, but simple food that told my relatives, “We’re thankful for your visit, and we’re glad you’re here.”  All this topped off with my father’s old-school, straw-wrapped bottle of Chianti.

We didn’t really have a family room, so that all happened in the kitchen. That was the socialization capital of my household. My aunts doting over the kids and my uncles talking about work and the war they thankfully returned from. They’d throw in a bit of politics but never came close to the fevered, emotional pitch of today’s discussions. They may not have liked a certain political figure, but I recognized the earned respect in their criticism.

I got to thinking about who really formed my life. Who taught me right from wrong?  Who taught me how to get along with others?  Who scared the heck out of me and made sure I stayed in line? Who taught me about religion? Who taught me how to handle my money? It turns out it was a whole host of good people throughout a lifetime.

I can tell you in my early phase of life that it was the nuns at St. Catherine’s that taught me about behavioral parameters. We didn’t have an abundance at home with all the kids and hard-working parents. You were kind of left to your own devices. Those behavioral limits served me well as I marched toward adulthood.

As I got a bit older, I was allowed to be a participant in the weekend kitchen discussions with my visiting uncles. Some were tough as nails, cigarette-smoking men. Others were accountants and plant managers. I hung on every word of their amazing World War II stories. I felt the fear and dogged determination they possessed, defending the country they loved. I saw the tattoos on their arms. Nothing flamboyant, just a single word. It was a strong indication of how much they missed their amazing country and the people they loved. The loved ones they left behind to fight for freedom. They greatly influenced me, and I didn’t wanna let them down.

As I approached the next phase of life, sports became hugely important and so did the many coaches I had. I smile when I see the loving, relationship-building approach coaches have today. They focus on positivity and lifting their players up. I didn’t really know those coaches back then. My coaches taught me that the world didn’t revolve around me, and if for a minute I thought it did, they put me in my place.

They drove me to achieve more. They yelled at me and at times degraded me, but in the end, they gave me a great gift. They gave me their time. They gave me their devotion to making me better, and somehow, I lived through it, and I came out the other end better prepared for whatever challenges life had ahead.

I can clearly tell you who taught me about the importance of money and saving it. That was my grandmother, Bertha Toolan. Many grandparents back then lived through The Great Depression. I always wondered why they call it the “Great” Depression. Based on stories she told, it was filled with anguish and sacrifice. There was nothing great about it.

My grandmother, born and bred in the coal region, experienced a lot of pain and doing without in her Depression-era life. She taught me to squeeze every ounce of toothpaste out of a tube. She told me to run water through every bottle of detergent to make sure that I got every last drop. The message was: Things are precious. Life is precious and get every last drop out of it.

And even through the challenging life she lived, I loved her sweet, kind demeanor.

Going to Catholic school, religion seemed prominent in my early life. I love that school, my many friends, and by far, my favorite subject was recess. To me, it was about playing and having fun. Even with all the fun and a bit of rebellion, turns out some of the “right versus wrong” messages made it through.

My mother was the churchgoer in the family. My dad was not nearly as involved. I knew how hard he worked, and I think Sundays were his time. So, my mom would dress us up, and off we would go. Since my mom didn’t drive, my Uncle Jim Toolan was the chauffeur. I often wondered, “Why am I going to church and not my dad?” But I never asked because he was Dad, and back then, you didn’t challenge your heroic authority figures.

Speaking of religion, most of my incredible, heaven-like neighborhood was made up of Pennsylvania, German, and Jewish families. There were the Snyderman, Epstein, Blinderman, and Lesavoy families, and I could go on. They were great people who watched out for us and treated us kindly with a measure of oversight that neighbors had over kids in those days.

While I’m on that subject. This was an incredible year on the religion front. My friend Nat Hyman took me to synagogue. I can’t believe how profoundly moved I felt, and the memories brought back memories of my childhood neighbors. Additionally, I went to the Iftar dinner at the beautiful mosque, thanks to the invitation from Nagi Latefa. It was an amazing night I’ll never forget filled with amazing food, incredible people, and an opportunity to pray with the imam. I went to a wedding in an Evangelical Christian church, and I witnessed the total joy in the church. In short, I encountered a lot of really nice people that make this country diversely unique.

I’ve never been a “my religion is better than your religion” kind of guy. I’ve never felt mine is right and yours is wrong. We’re all pursuing God in our own way, and in the end, hopefully we’ll find out what it’s really all about. For me, after exploring several religions, I remain Catholic. I say when I look at the cross, “This religion is not perfect, but it’s where I found you, God, and that’s good enough for me.”

Yes, life is a crazy roller coaster ride. I’ve had plenty of ups and downs, and in the end, I wouldn’t change a thing. This is a great place, and there’s a lot of amazingly good people. People who just wanna make a living, raise a family, and contribute to society.

With the advent of social media, we can be so hard on each other.  And when we’re alone, we can be so hard on ourselves. But through all the uncertainty, we built a pretty damn good country, not to mention an amazing Lehigh Valley.

We all have our flaws. I’m a champion in that department. But like so many of you, I love my country. I’m thankful for my community. I adore my family, and I try to avoid the noise. But if you read, observe, listen, and take it all in, there’s a lot to learn during life’s excursions, and there’s a lot of really good people willing to teach you.

Additionally, AI is at your fingertips to inform you of most anything you ask. But while AI is filled with knowledge, for me, it’ll never top my uncles, my teachers, the nuns, or my parents. For me, it’s the time and interest they showed that matter the most. They cared enough to invest in us, redirect us, and challenge us.

Let’s face it. We’re being molded every day of our lives, and in retrospect, the people that molded me were like a group of Michelangelos.

In the end, the statue they built, like most works of art, isn’t perfect, but if you look at it long enough, you see unique beauty in the dedicated time well spent.

This is a contributed opinion column. Tony Iannelli is the president and CEO of the Lehigh Valley Chamber of Commerce. He can be reached at tonyi@lehighvalleychamber.org..