Jeff Stoffa: Reflections From a Son

What kind of a father was John Stoffa?

I’m not going to say he was a great father just to help him get elected. My Dad had three kids. I was born in 1970; my brother in 1976; and before us, in the mid 60s, was born his community. One of my earliest memories was when we lived in Hanover Township, next to Pharo Park, and a municipal jazz band was playing a free concert one afternoon on the basketball field. All my friends were there with their families. The band started playing the theme to the Harlem Globetrotters. That's a song my Dad loved, played on his trumpet and whistled all the time. I ran back to the house to get him to join me, but he was at the head of the dining room table with these stoic looking people sitting all around the table. He told me he had an important meeting and couldn’t see the band. That was in his Shade Tree Commission days in the mid 70s.

Fast forward to 2009 and a lot of people in Hanover Township enjoy more trees, parks, open spaces and the resulting higher property values at the expense of this kid who sat alone at the band concert on a Saturday afternoon. The true irony of it all is that our neighborhood, the farmettes around Asa Packer School, all got gobbled up by the pressures of the expanding development along Schoenersville Rd. So my little grave I made for our cat, Foxy Lady, when I was 10 is buried beneath a Holiday Inn Express now. But those freakin’ shade trees are still there.

My father always put his community and the County first. There were many many nights having dinner with his seat empty because of Board meetings, panels, Church council, various events, but never political. They always revolved around improving the community or drug and alcohol rehab or vocational rehab or something of that ilk. Just take a look at his resume and you know there’s no way he could have been home every night with his kids.

So you’re saying he was absent?

Yes, except on weekends. Then of course he made my childhood a challenge too on Saturday and Sunday. It was tough keeping up with the Joneses’ of Hanover Township when your dad made you move manure piles on Saturday and presented you with a pet steer named Sir Loin and you lived in a run down farmhouse complete with a sign that said, “Melody Ranch.” We were far from conventional. But overall, he was a good father by virtue of his example. The way he treated people, the way he cared about his community, the way he tithed and always stuck up for the underdog. No matter how far he rises, he’ll always be that 8 year old with missing fingers - living on a farm with no indoor plumbing - wondering how he’ll keep from pumping gas for the rest of his life. He never forgets where he came from.

What did you think of your first County Council meeting?

I think they should be televised or at least shown on webcam. I lived in Florida for eight years and there the city and county council meetings are televised. I once spent two hours watching the Coral Gables City Council discuss whether or not to force someone to cut down a huge tree on the side of the road; they had pointers and slide shows and everything. People don’t know enough about what the County does and I think more people might get involved if they could watch local government sessions on television. With our County Council’s reputation for being one Southern accent away from the Harper Valley PTA, it could be quite entertaining for the public. But as incompetent as the public accuses them of being during opening comments, Council seems to really love their communities and care about the County. I mean, they’re not there for the money certainly. If Lehigh County attacked us, I’m sure Ron Angle and Ann McHale would grab their pitchforks and rifles and defend Norco side by side against the invaders, no doubt about it.

What do you think when you read criticisms of your father on LV Ramblings?

Some make me laugh out loud. Some I agree with --- like my Dad is slow and moves slowly and “old Stoffa” looks old. He always looked and acted old even when he was young and he never moves fast. My father never runs. I saw him run once in my life when he was chasing a groundhog out of his field corn crib. The house could be on fire and he wouldn’t run. But just because he moves slowly doesn’t mean his mind moves slowly. I’d rather a slow moving person with a quick mind than a fast moving person with a slow mind. FDR didn’t move very fast and he was pretty good at his job.

What criticisms make you laugh?

Well, there are 260,000 people in Northampton County and you can’t please them all. When I was 15, a couple moved in next to my best friend’s house in Hanover Township. She wanted to welcome them so we got some sweet corn my Dad had grown and rang their doorbell. When I introduced myself, the guy told me that my Dad had fired him six months ago. I was like, “Well, I guess you won’t be needing the corn then.” How many frustrated vendors are out there that lost a bid because my father wanted to save the taxpayers money? If you’re a person that does pay for play, takes donations from special interests, cherishes having your own special monogrammed parking space, and then this Susan Boyle crawls out of Kreidersville and does the opposite, you will feel judged. When you feel judged, you attack and you feel relief by heckling someone anonymously on a blog. So there you go. I also love how everyone’s “in the tank” for my father. What does that mean? I guess you win an election and thousands of people are “in the tank” for you.

Does it bother your Dad?

Who knows? He’d never say an unkind word about anyone. Someone could spit on him one night or give him a medal the next and he’ll still come home, check his emails, whistle to himself, and mow the lawn after he reads every newspaper printed in the Lehigh Valley. It can be kind of aggravating when he doesn’t fight back right away. When the McHale signs showed up suddenly, long after ours, and they had copied our colors, our fonts, and our word placements, and then hundreds of our signs disappeared or were destroyed and ripped up or replaced by hers in the middle of the night, or blocked by hers so no one could see ours anymore, I and the rest of the sign volunteers were livid. I’m half Irish so some shanty Irish screaming banshee from the Potato Famine in my blood rose up and wanted to at least move the signs that were blocking ours. But Dad wouldn’t. He didn’t want to stoop down to a Hatfield and McCoy mudfight. My father hates it when people call us Pensyltucky even when others’ actions warrant the moniker.

Now that you have a blog, are you prepared for criticism?

I love it. I haven’t gotten many. Someone called me the Paris Hilton of Northampton County and someone else called me Prince Harry. I guess that insinuates I’m vapid and riding on my last name, but physically attractive. Someone else called me Little Stoffa too which is funny because I’m 6’4.”

What’s the most significant thing you’ve inherited from your father?

The first thing that comes to mind is my leg. My father and I both have a left leg exactly 3/8” shorter than the right leg. We buy rubber heel lifts off the Internet and I never have any so he gives me some from his stash. A great Christmas present for me are rubber heel lifts. My brother is a Republican and has legs of equal length. I sometimes question his legitimacy. I WISH I inherited his frugality. If I had my father’s frugality and ability to handle money, I’d be a lot better off financially right now. He rather pull some sweater of mine that I didn’t want out of the garbage than buy himself something new. He’s very careful with a dollar and I wasn’t surprised at all to find out that he was able to spare Northampton County any tax increases during the four years while increasing services at the same time. I think in these difficult economic times that’s the main reason people will vote for him.

What did you think when he first ran for County Executive?

I thought he was crazy. I knew when he retired he wouldn’t be happy. He likes to be involved and there were so many people still calling him for advice and keeping him in the loop about the County. Goats and peacocks and sunflower fields can occupy a mind like his for only so long. When he lost the County Council run, I didn’t understand why he would go for County Executive. I was in Miami and I’d hear reports about him running around all by himself with his signs and getting chased out of Redner’s parking lot when he was asking for petition signatures. I really didn’t think he’d be able to do it with such a small team. But some really good people came out of the woodwork volunteering to help him, people he didn’t know until that point and I think people underestimated him. No one took him seriously, especially the Establishment Democrats. I was proud when he won and I recall vividly the Morning Call article someone mailed to me in Florida that showed Boscola and Reibman watching the returns. Their expressions were classic. He really pulled it off but I said to himself, “Oh boy, he just made some enemies.“ I wish I still had that picture. Boscola and Riebman look like Simon Cowell and that pretty blonde British lady watching Susan Boyle belt out her first notes on Britain’s Got Talent.

What did you think when he wanted to run for re-election?

Well, that was a different story. He had had a back and hip operation in the same month and I wasn’t sure if he was up for it physically. But then one day he popped out of bed, put a suit on and went back to work. My grandfather Stoffa was diagnosed with black lung when he was 45 and was given months to live, and he lived to 85. His father, my great-grandfather Stoffa, lived to 100. Slovaks are hearty. I think it’s ironic that both Ann McHale and my Dad are Slovak and are running against each other. I wonder who’s a better chadash or polka dancer.

What do you wish people knew about John Stoffa that they don’t?

I wish people could see all the things he does for people that never get recognized. He has clients from Drug and Alcohol and Vocational Rehab that he met in the 60s who still call him for advice. The other day I was looking for pictures for this site and I found a letter from a woman in Northampton. Her husband and little boy were in line at the Carmike in front of my parents when the father realized he had forgotten his wallet so they couldn’t see the movie, which made the boy cry. My father gave the boy $20 and his address, telling him to mail back the money to him someday. Of course the mother did, thanking my father for teaching her son “that there still are good people in this world.” Now my father, didn’t save that letter. He never would have. My mother did. That’s just how he is.

What’s the most important thing your parents taught you?

They taught me to respect everyone, that no one is better than anyone else. There but for the Grace of God go I, you know? They could have been getting ready to go to the Governor’s Ball in Harrisburg, with a Congressman calling on the phone, but if Jake the Grinder who “come ta grind da corn” rang the doorbell, Jake would get just the same attention and the Congressman might have to wait a minute until Jake is greeted. That’s how they are. My mother’s family came from a lot of money and lost it all in the Depression. They had a chauffeur and maids and a ballroom and billiard room one minute, and then ’29 comes and they’re bartering with silver and selling blood to buy hot dogs to eat. You never know what the future holds. You might be in a great 3 bedroom colonial out in the townships with a perfect family, but you never know what can happen to your grandkids when they’re older, or the people they marry, and it’s always good to have good County services. I’ve known many people who complained about paying taxes for health and human services until their daughter suddenly gives birth to a child with Down’s Syndrome.

Why will you vote for your father?

Because he’s a nice guy, in the true sense of the word. I say that as an English major. When I heard he was referred to as a nice guy in a derogatory manner in public, I picked up my Merriam Webster dictionary, being the English major that I am and reacquainted myself with the word to see if I agreed.

Nice: “pleasing, agreeable, respectable, well-mannered, showing or requiring great accuracy, precision or skill, having or showing accurate perception, virtuous, suitable, proper, requiring tact or care."

Antonyms: "unpleasant, unkind, careless, improper, bad, disagreeable, horrible, nasty, repulsive, unlikable, unpleasant, disordered, imprecise, unmannerly, and unrefined."

A respectful person with great accuracy, precision, skill, and perception is much better than a careless disagreeable , imprecise, disordered and unrefined one. I’ll vote for a nice guy any day...