Thursday, August 8, 2024

A Box of Memories

For 19 years this box has held memories of my Dad who died August 6, 2005. It's impossible to think that someone who is so alive in my heart left this planet so many years ago. He died young but he lived large.

I dare not dive in my special box today; if I did my workday would be shot. It contains all the cards, letters, and emails; funeral program, service script, a copy of the guest book; and newspaper articles and a variety of other things surrounding my Dad's death. Thanks to some special people I have some real gems and I thank YOU and YOU and YOU for that fact. The thing that has made this loss bearable through the years is people keep him alive. All these years later, not a week goes by without someone mentioning something about Dad to me.
Two treasures jumped at me: a cassette tape the day following his death from KFRU radio and a packet of letters from his friend and fellow attorney David Knight. Dad died on a Saturday. He co-hosted the Sunday Morning Roundtable on KFRU. On a whim, I threw in a blank tape on my jam box (yes this dates things....) and sure enough my instinct was spot on. I have an entire program of people calling in with memories of my Dad--most from people I'd never heard of and almost all the stories new to me. Today, I wish I still had a cassette player so I could listen to it but I'm sure one can be found. The packet of letters and documents from Mr. Knight arrived over a 5-year period, each with detailed stories of elaborate pranks they would pull on each other-- often roping in a half dozen others. Each one is a gem but also the fact they came at 1-2/ year made them all the more special to my family. Mr. Knight knows well how much I value these. I've told him that I'm going to do the same for someone else some day when appropriate.

On the day of Dad's funeral, Hank Waters, longtime editor of the Columbia Daily Tribune, wrote an editorial on Dad. A couple of excerpts:

"Knowing David Rogers . . . was to experience his personality, his larger-than-life presence. He would make his points, speak his mind . . . sometimes with a barb in his tongue and a twinkle in his eye. David was a unique presence among us. Nobody is waiting on the bench to take his place. We'll have to play a slightly different game next inning."

Keeping him alive in my heart is a gift this community has given me and I'm so grateful. This Friday he will miss another milestone, the most significant since his youngest son Jim died following him. His second granddaughter, who he loved so big it made his heart burst, will marry. I know MJ will miss Pops and so will all the rest of us. But his love still shines bright enough to light up Union Station in Chicago this Saturday August 10.