February 1, 1997
Three years ago, I was drawn back into what I enjoy doing most: writing.
It was very unusual. My sister was handling a legal battle for my father
and she was feeling very much alone and tired. She asked me for help. I
was reluctant but I agreed.
As I worked on my father's case, it became apparent to me how low we
had sunk as a society. Here was a 70 year old man who had been a respected
member of his community for all his life and he had been charged with 2
misdemeanor counts of endangering the public welfare. These charges stemmed
from new laws regarding pesticides. My father had owned a pest control
business 20 years before the charges arose. He was found guilty of mishandling
pesticides and my sister was handling the appeal.
He was driven in to bankruptcy. His reputation was in shambles. He had
nothing left but a spark for life and for justice. I don't particularly
care about my father's "innocence" or "guilt". I know
who my father was. I know who I am. And I know who we are. None of us are
innocent. All of us have guilt.
What I do care about is this small little miracle I witnessed. Oh, it's
no big deal, really. But it is a very big deal. My father died in June
of 1995. He died from a stroke. Some say that the legal battle killed him.
I know better.
In April of 1995 my younger brother, John, was diagnosed with cancer.
He was given 6 months to live. My father's last battle was not with the
legal community. He was fighting, in prayer, for the life of his son. Johnny
died in September of 1995. Before he died, he was a pall bearer at our
father's funeral. Johnny's son, Ryan, helped carry the casket. Johnny could
not stand. He was alongside Ryan, in his wheelchair.
I had the privilege of delivering some closing remarks at my father's
and Johnny's funerals. I have included my remarks in this text. But they
are only included to help you see the miracle. I have been writing avidly
for the past 3 years. I have engaged in many battles. I have no victories
under my belt. No final resolutions. But I do have a series of completed
circles. And I would like to share the most recent circle.
It took place between December 12, 1996 and January 26, 1997 (Super
Bowl Sunday). It is told in a series of letters to the editor of my local
newspaper and a couple of letters to my local parish priest. I had no idea
(when I began) where I was going. One letter just led to the next. And
now I am compelled to put these letters together so that you might see
and enjoy what I have found.
You will see many circles, spinning off, unresolved in many directions.
And hopefully, you will see at least one circle which is complete. If you
are looking for meaning in life, perhaps you will find it here. If you
are looking for final resolutions, I wish you well.
Love,
Brian
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