It still amazes me that my father, upon being diagnosed with leukemia, drove him himself 500 miles from La Grande to Portland, straight to the emergency room. Or should I say my father pushed the gas pedal and my mother steered the car. What an odd picture.
This is perhaps one of my favorite stories. I told it for the first time at my mother’s memorial service. Even as I told it, I could hear her voice say my name, “DAY-vid … I don’t remember that at ALL.”