never forgets because of the impact
that day has on them. June 5 is one
such day for me. I cannot help but
remember its significance because
it was life changing in 1972. It had
to do with the number 5.
I was living in L.A. when I received
a call from my mother telling me
that my father had been diagnosed
with lung cancer, and (ironically)
maybe worse. It was. I learned of
his illness on this day 43 years ago;
I immediately flew home to Michigan.
On July 5, he went into the hospital;
he died there on August 5. He was
born December 5, 2015. He was
diagnosed with cancer of the lung,
liver, pancreas, brain and kidney.
Think it started out as skin cancer.
Can't say as I'm a big fan of Five.
I remember the call and the day.
Like an assassination. He was
dying and there was nothing to
be done. June 5 will always have
an air of doom to it. Even on a
bright sunshiny day, it's a memory
I wish I could forget.
The good news is, it's almost been
5 years since I quit. Five is good.
At least now it is....
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