Preface

Some opportunities happen but once in our lives. One shot

is all we get-like that final free throw upon which the whole

game depends. There are no second chances.

Back home after spending two weeks in the oncology unit of

Northwestern University’s Prentice Hospital, Dad felt good

about leaving the hospital alive although we hadn’t thought

him ready to be discharged . There was still the unresolved

issue of his profound diarrhea, a particularly mean-spirited

side effect of chemotherapy, in addition to the colon cancer

from which he was dying.

So Dad and I began talking about the sort of things a father relays to his

son before the time he has left runs out. The

stories which follow reflect the blending of my father’s narrative

with the memories of growing up with and without him. 

Our protocol was fairly simple. He did most of the talking and I

did all of the listening. It’s simple enough to do. The only hard

part would be to justify your failure to do so to the person in the

mirror.


Reading the stories of this son will help your memories rise to the

surface from which, it is my hope, you can derive some comfort

.and pleasant recollection. You may even find your own

experience clarified. Expect to enjoy a soft chuckle or wipe away a

tear now and then. Whether you know it yet or not, your dad,

like mine has a lot to say. It’s up to us. Go ahead. Take the time

to listen and remember before it’s too late.