Thank you, Members of The Democratic Underground!

On behalf of "H2O Man’s" family, I want to thank each and every one of you who has taken the time to send a much needed message of concern and support to Dad. We have been reading your notes to him, and I think that they are as uplifting to us as they are to him. When I get back from classes today, I will be assisting him in his response. But, before that happens, I hope that it is okay if I share a few of my thoughts here.

I’m remembering this summer, when one of Dad’s best friends was here, looking for some good books to borrow. Dad’s collection of books is larger than some libraries around here. His friend got to the section where Dad keeps his numerous books on roses, and started shaking his head. "As well as I know him," he said, "I’m never sure that I really know him."

After reading the things you people wrote here, I think that you know him. But you might be surprised to know that, at times, we hear him talking to the computer screen, or the television, or a book he is reading. Let Dick Cheney’s mug show up on the screen, and Dad snarls and swears, just as he snarled and swore when we wanted to get him to the hospital.

The past few days have allowed me the chance to know things about him that I was previously unaware of. This was not the first time he had this type of experience. Twenty-six years ago, a doctor told him that he had a hernia that required surgery. Dad was working two full-time jobs, from midnight to 6:30 pm, thirteen days in a row, with one day off. Dad kept working, because my mother was pregnant with me, and he thought they needed the money. This was a poor choice on his part.

I was born with problem in my digestive tract. My first doctor misdiagnosed that problem, and I almost died. Another doctor got it right. I had assumed that Dad was the "stay home" parent as a result of this. But I think it may have been because his doctor refused to sign a "back-to-work" note for him, because both jobs involved physical labor (farming and sand-blasting).

Dad and my pediatrician became close friends. Mom (Victoria is actually Darren and my step-mother, but is "Mom" to us without interference to our relationship with our other Mom) said that once, when she told the pediatrician about her frustrations with Dad’s stubborn refusal to take care of himself, he told her that there was really very little she could do, because men in general and Irishmen more than anyone else, are predisposed to ignoring their health. He told her that there could come a time when she would need to actually call an ambulance if there was an emergency, and to remember that he said it was the right thing to do.

On Saturday, Mom and I were going to call an ambulance, when Darren drove up the driveway. It was such a relief! Darren can cut through the bullshit fast. He told Dad that he was taking him to the ER. Dad said he would go after the big boxing match, but that it would "ruin everything" for people if he missed the fight. Darren said it would ruin more if he died while watching the fight. Dad started saying that he’d rather die at home than in the hospital. That was all it took. Darren said, "Well, you’re not going to die, Old Man. I’ll tell you about the fight tomorrow," and carried him off. Believe me when I say that no other person has the relationship with Dad that allows them to pick him up when he doesn’t want to be picked up.

Darren and Mom were with him at the ER. Then Darren came home, and told me to take a turn. There were about twenty people here by then, and everyone asked Darren how Dad was doing? He said he wished he had a video camera, because as weird as it was, Dad’s sense of humor was outrageous. When a nurse was asking questions about alcohol, tobacco, and "street drugs," Dad said that while he didn’t use any of them, if they had free samples, he’d be willing to try any combination of them.

The medical staff was under the impression that Dad was having a heart attack. We all thought so, as well. But on the table, Dad acted annoyed, and lifted his shirt to show them what looked like an egg that was about to hatch on his abdomen. That’s when they had the ambulance transport him to another hospital for surgery.

What was not "funny" was that Dad risked a lot with what Darren referred to as "that unacceptable combination of stubborn and stupid." I know that he won’t be happy when he reads this, but that’s okay. Ignoring a medical problem is not okay.

Darren and I are finishing a two-year project with Dad. It’s a book about Native American history, that features much of the work Dad has done with both Chief Paul Waterman, and my pediatrician (who was on the State Museum’s Iroquois Studies).For the past few years, I’ve served as Dad’s editor, for the things that he writes for publication. Darren does some of the "ghost-writing" for Dad on his boxing articles. Both of us know his speaking and writing style very well. (I’ve filled in for him twice in public speaking engagements. He is still better at the "Q&A" part.) Our sisters are both involved in the book project, as well.

When that is finished, Darren is going to pressure Dad to let us help him on an autobiography. I’m sure that he and I are not entirely objective, but we really think it would be of value. Our friends like it when we sit down with Dad and talk about politics, society, history, and human relations. You would be surprised if you knew half the stuff that he’s done in his life. It’s like, as well as you know him, there are still sometimes when you realize how much went into the process that made him the way he is.

Once again, on behalf of Mom, his children, and H2O Man, thank you.

Corey