On March
20, 1998, I lost my father.
Hundreds
of books have been written on the subject of death, the loss
that is felt, the ghosts that are left behind. So, although
I was at my father’s side when he left, leading to emotions
that I have never felt in my 37 years, I felt it important
to take this opportunity to focus on the legacy he left behind.
This is a living tribute to a fascinating man, a successful
entrepreneur, one half of an enduring love story, and ultimately
the giver of dreams. My dreams.
My father
was a farmer’s son. His upbringing laid the foundation
for big dreams and strong work ethics. While other youths
his age were at home in bed or participating in after-school
athletics, my father and his brothers were on tractors in
the fields at 4:00 a.m., and then again after school until
sundown. Eventually, my father bought his own farm and expanded
his holdings to more than 8,000 acres.
Never one
to sit still, Dad went on to own a hotel, raise thoroughbred
race horses, and invent a cold-therapy machine that was marketed
to the horse-racing industry, professional sports teams, and
the international medical field.
Dad’s
final project was a truck equipment company. He took a small
company and turned it into one of the largest of its kind in
Southern California.
I would
be remiss not to mention the most important woman in my father’s
life: my mother. After 23 years of marriage, they divorced,
then remarried four years before his death. They never stopped
loving each other. Their last years were spent as newlyweds,
loving each other more in their last few months than they ever
had in their first 23 years together.
An extraordinary
man is gone, but his legacy lives on through the memories of
love he left my mother, through the accomplishments of his grandchildren,
through his expanding business, and finally through his gift
to me.
