Best parents ever.

Subconscious log number unknown, file data lost. Actual date sometime at 5am the summer of 1973. Get up son it's time to go. I don't want to get up dad! Let's sleep in I groaned. That is not an option son I'll be in the car. After driving for what seemed like a long time but it really wasn't, we arrived at our destination. It was a stocked lake in the middle of nowhere Ohio. I was sixish years old and about to embark on my very first fishing experience. The sandwiches were plain old peanut butter, but I remember somehow they tasted like 5 star cuisine after a few hours out on the lake when my dad pulled them out of that Coleman cooler.

The fish were practically jumping in the boat and I could barely carry all the catfish I had caught in those early morning hours. I had insisted on carrying them on my stringer to the car and my dad obliged my silly request, but the catfish were so heavy that I allowed the stringer of fish to droop enough where one of the catfish big whiskers stung me on my knee. I distinctly remember my father warning me about 800 times to avoid those whiskers at all costs, but I failed to learn the lesson the easy way. I fell to the ground writhing in pain and my dad knew immediately what had transpired. He plucked me and the stringer of fish off the ground and after assuring me I was going to be fine, he carried the fish and I to the car. He sat me in the passenger seat and allowed me to finish crying and then asked me patiently; "So, which one got ya?" I sniffled and shouted, that one!! Before I knew what was happening I was at the lakes picnic area learning to clean my first fish and sure enough my dad picked out the catfish that had stung me. I didn't realize it at the time but my father was teaching me the basic mindset of not allowing yourself to become a victim of things that just happen sometimes. He never scolded me for forgetting his warnings and never even acknowledged my awful pain or told me to stop crying. It was neither bad or good, it just was. He had turned a possible traumatic experience into one I truly recall as a powerfully empowering one. Instead of a fear of catfish, my subconscious memory chose to file it under a neutral learning experience and I remember the taste of those delectable peanut butter sandwiches much more than the sting of a catfish whisker.

A random Saturday circa 1976 in my dad's woodworking shop, which is actually just the garage. Hey dad what are you doing just sitting there? "I'm percolating..... Sometimes son the answer isn't immediate and you need to meditate or think on other things until the answer does come." We sat in silence for what seemed like forever and then you could see in his expression a decision had been made. He was just building a desk but I sat and watched him tear out all the work he had done the past couple hours as he thoroughly explained to me that sometimes you have to start over to get it right. "Son, you have to be willing to acknowledge your mistakes and start over otherwise you will end up in the wrong place with shoddy looking furniture." My older self would come to realize much later we were not talking about a desk.

A hot June day in Ohio 1982. I am sweating profusely under a 1969 VW as I am helping my father replace an alternator on the family car. He is teaching me which tools to use and how to put it in correctly instead of upside down, but I am just looking at the clock wondering when I will be able to go hit some golf balls. Two hours later I am being dramatic stating that I'm about to pass out from the heat and my father just laughs. He then asks, "Do you know why I'm teaching you all this stuff Robert?" Yes dad I do, so I'll be able to fix anything that goes wrong. His reply was simple yet profound. "Son if you think you can fix anything that goes wrong you are in for a rude awakening my boy and I'm teaching you all these jobs so you will get a great job that you love and make tons of money so you can pay someone to do all these chores that you learned are dirty and mundane." I replied with silence.

August 1985, the summer before my senior year of high school. I applied to many colleges, but my dream college was the University of North Carolina. I had attended the seventh grade basketball camp there and loved the campus. I just got the letter saying I was wait listed at UNC and did not get in because as a state school they were only permitted to allow 10% of students from out of state. My father proceeded to drive me to North Carolina so I could take a week and look at other options for school in the state I loved. I had my backup plan of Bluffton College in Ohio which I received a basketball and golf scholarship so I could attend college at no cost to my parents. We headed south from Ohio and visited Davidson College, Guilford College and Wake Forest University. When we arrived at the last campus something deep inside me told me I was home. On the 14 hour drive back to Ohio I was very quiet and lost in my thoughts until my dad interjected, Any decisions? I immediately responded that I would love the free ride at Bluffton College and getting to play Division III athletics. My father veered off Highway 75 immediately and proceeded to turn off the car on the shoulder of the freeway and proceeded to tell me we weren't moving from this spot until I told him the truth. After a long silence I stated I would love the chance to attend Wake Forest University and he matter-of-factly stated, "Ok, we will make that happen," and put the car in gear and headed home. My mom and dad were always the most supportive parents ever and were very proud of me when I graduated from Wake Forest University with my BA in communication. I will never forget when the whole family drove down to Winston-Salem North Carolina to watch me graduate. My mother shared with me years later that my father had actually written a letter to Dean Smith the coach at UNC to inquire if there was anything he could do to get his son off the wait list so he could attend the University of North Carolina. Unreal I thought until she showed me the handwritten letter he got back from Coach Smith stating he regretfully had no say in that matter, but wished me well in my future endeavors. Wow.

November 1991. My sister had just flown to Atlanta Georgia to discuss something with me. My parents did not wish to tell me of my father's cancer diagnosis, so my sister was brave enough to do so. He was given only a few weeks to live but he was determined to beat it and kept that mindset in all facets of his daily life. I graduated from Wake Forest in May of 1990 and landed an unbelievable internship with CNN in February of 1991. I say unbelievable because I never even applied as I was bartending and trying to work for radio stations in North Carolina. CNN was not even on my radar, but they called out of the blue saying they had an unpaid internship for me if I could go to Atlanta and after talking to my parents we decided to try it for 6 months and they would help me like they always have. I worked for free 7 days a week for almost 6 months when they finally hired me as I had taught myself how to edit video and became a video editor for CNN officially in September of 1991. My father didn't want me to worry and keep working at my new job and he even came to Atlanta to visit me stating it was his vacation from chemo. I also flew home to visit when I could, and things were great until November of 1992 when he got worse. I flew home to be with my family and got to say goodbye to my young dad of just 55 years young. His diagnosis was for 2 weeks but my amazing dad beat it for almost a year. He was always upbeat and made me laugh even when I wanted to cry and with him it was always ok to cry. One of the last conversations I had with my dad he shared the story that my mom had applied to the CNN internship in Atlanta for me as she said she thought I would be great with video instead of a DJ. He stated that she was not phased at all by the rejection letter she received in November of 1990 and just wrote another letter stating why it would be a mistake to not give this amazing boy an internship to prove his talents in storytelling. I sat there stunned that my mom did that for me not once but twice, refusing to take no for an answer. The last night my dad was very coherent, but I was not. We got to converse as father and son and I was very fortunate to get to say goodbye to my loving dad, and we were all by his side and my mom showed her amazing strength in helping him go. I love my amazing mom and dad and miss them both every day. I lost my dad in 1992 when I was 24 and I lost my loving mom in 2014. My mom never even dated after my father always stating she could never replace her only love. I had the best parents ever. Period... My dad taught me many things. He taught me to play ball. He taught me to fish. He taught me it's ok to love. He taught me to forgive. He taught me it's ok to cry. He even taught me how to die, but more importantly he taught me how to LIVE.

Thank you, Mom and Dad.