“OK, let’s think this through,” he said. “Remember — we’re going to think of it as fun, right? You’re going to walk out onto the stage with energy and optimism, anticipating that the audience is going to love you. And here’s the big one: Shift your attention from yourself to your audience.” Now, that’s probably one of the most important things my dad taught me about winning people over, and it works anytime you’re trying to make a positive impression. Don’t think, How am I doing? Do they like me? but How are they? What do they need? Look out, not in. Great acting or great speaking — or just plain great communicating — is, at the risk of sounding corny, about love. That’s how my father put it: You’ve got to love the audience so much that you’ll do anything to get your idea or your message across. When they feel that, they’ll love you right back.

“And don’t forget,” he added. “Show ’em your passion.”

So I walked out onto that stage and did what he told me. I talked about how much I loved playing the devil, the kick I got out of “romancing” my best friend, the fun of playing Bottom. I made them laugh by telling them I knew I was a convincing actor when younger girls developed crushes on me. I concentrated on caring about — even loving — every student in the theater. I got a standing ovation, and best of all, I was pronounced “heavy.” And guess what? Eventually, I even got to play a girl.

My dad has been gone for a few years now, but I think about him every day. I think about the impact he had on people; I think about how he changed every room he walked into, about how magnetic and loving he was. Even now, when I walk down Euclid Avenue in Cleveland, inevitably someone will come up to me and say, “Hey, wasn’t Warren Blanke your father? I heard him speak once. I’ll never forget him.” Neither will I.