Editorial

I Am My Relationships

Deval (reshMa) ParanjPe, MD, MBa, FaCs

Many years ago, my best friend from sophomore year of college told me a vignette about his Dad that has stayed in my mind. His father was almost a mythic figure who demanded excellence in everything and everyone; he was a teacher, an ex-monk, and a perfectionist who was coding long before the Silicon Valley boom. Given this intimidating set of facts, I was heartened to learn that the man was also famous for his warm } bear hugs. The pearl that I took away from the vignette was his Dad’s one line self-description, namely: “I am my relationships.”

Think about that for a moment.

“I am my relationships.”

Wiser words were never spoken.

Last month, Franco Harris suddenly passed away, leaving a shocked, stunned and grieving city and football nation which had been preparing for the celebration of retiring his number and instead found itself mourning his loss.. Franco Harris was a national football hero, but he was also our local champion in every aspect of life, not just football. As I waited in line outside Acrisure Stadium in the bitter cold and snow to pay my respects to his family at the visitation, the thousands of strangers I queued with were exchanging stories. Every single person I met had a personal story about Franco---brief but lovely conversations they had had, jokes they had told each other, Franco paying for a complete stranger’s taxi or lunch with the characteristic kindness that was in Franco’s molecular makeup.

The man was everywhere and showed up in the true sense of the phrase for everything and everybody. He was everyone’s Dad and brother and son and friend who came to awards ceremonies, ribbon cuttings, panels, big charity events, and little neighborhood celebrations. He showed up to raise awareness for good causes in the bad parts of town. He lent his star quality and mythic presence to so many good works that it would likely take another lifetime to catalogue.

One man recounted spending a magical day as a child with Franco. His elementary school class team had raised the most money for charity, and their reward was a Gateway Clipper Cruise with Franco Harris. “He was so famous that he could have chosen to be anywhere in the world with anyone more important—but the fact that he chose to spend his day happily engaging with a bunch of elementary school kids on a Gateway Clipper cruise tells you everything about the kind of man he was.”

Another woman remembered Franco coming out mid-pandemic to a vaccination drive in Clairton and encouraging others to sign up to get vaccinated in a climate where fear and distrust were rampant and disease was spreading. His calm presence and kind energy doubtless saved lives in downtrodden communities as well as the larger world-- heroes are always in short supply, and Franco was certainly a hero and role model.

Franco turned our city into a family, and bridged divides. His own family shared him with us; he had a personal relationship with tens of thousands of individual people in his lifetime, perhaps more. Like Mr. Rogers, no one could find a single negative thing he ever said or did; how many people like that do you know in your life? Here was a man who had fame and fortune and remained grounded, genuine and good. Here was a man who spent his postfootball career helping everyone he could in the largest and the smallest of ways-- from chairing and supporting the

Pittsburgh Promise Foundation which has funded post-secondary education for over 11,000 Pittsburgh Public School graduates, to never saying no to signing autographs and taking selfies with fans.

Franco the legendary athlete will live forever in the history books and television archives as having carried out the greatest football play of all time. But Franco the man was even more than that. Franco Harris was his relationships; he will live forever in the hearts all who met him personally. After hearing the stories of my fellow mourners, it was clear that if Franco Harris had never played a day’s football in his life (let alone been a Steeler of renown or pulled off the Immaculate Reception), Pittsburghers would still have lined up for hours to pay their respects. That’s the kind of man he was. His like truly will not pass our way again.

In the end, Franco took the express elevator to heaven, after living an extraordinary life of leadership comprised of service, humility and kindness. Gone far, far too soon.

We can remember him and honor his legacy by being servant leaders, by steadily helping our fellow man without fanfare or self-aggrandizement, and above all by caring for each other in ways large and small. In the end, that’s all that any of us really are.

We are our relationships.

Stay warm and be well, and be kind to each other and yourselves.