My dad died of pancreatic cancer in March of 1984 at the age of 69. His great calling and passion was teaching, and he taught his university classes right up to the very end, dying on spring break after the finals were graded and the grades were turned in and posted. Part of my motivation for writing “Lefty Parent” is to reclaim and honor the best of my memory of my dad. He gave me so much love and support and I find in so many (sometimes too many) ways I am like him.

After he and my mom remarried each other and moved from Ann Arbor down to Dayton Ohio in 1977, and then I moved to Los Angeles in 1978, I became increasingly distant from my dad. I think he had been at his best with me when I was a young kid, relating to me through sports, his sense of adventure, and the realm of imagination. But as I moved into adolescence and young adulthood, with issues of self-esteem and emotional development taking the fore, I think he felt increasingly inadequate as a parent to play a mentoring role in those areas and in my life. When I would call home from Los Angeles I would invariably speak to my mom for a long time about her issues and mine and then just a few final moments saying hello to my dad, him saying he would hear all my news from my mom after the call. Continue reading →