Father’s Day weekend in 1989 
was one of the best. I spent it in Chicago with college friends doing what kids 
two years out of college do: Cubs game, parties, walking along Lake Michigan, 
bars, restaurants, etc. I made it home to KCI in time to make it to a work 
reception at Crown Center that Sunday night.
The work reception included 
twenty people from around the country who had travelled here for a summit on 
the new division of Sprint we were developing. The 
reception went really well. People were nice, energy was high, and everyone was 
gearing up for a full week of meetings. We were talking, eating, drinking, and 
getting to know each other. I declined offers of alcoholic beverages (since I’d 
had my fair share over the weekend) and stuck with water.
Unfortunately the driver of 
the brand new Ford Eagle did not do the same at his event. 
As I left Crown Center on that 
rainy night, the Eagle sped over the hill and ran directly into me. I remember 
spinning around the intersection praying, “Please don’t let me hit those cars at 
the stoplight!” Once I saw the power pole, the prayer became, “Please let me 
avoid the power pole!” The people and pole were safe, but I sat stuck in my car 
in the middle of Main Street.
It was obvious the other 
driver was drunk, or rather, on drugs, because immediately after my car stopped 
spinning, one of his buddies ran to my car to see if I had any drugs for him to 
hide. Upon hearing my negative answer, the buddy ran around the corner of a 
building to hide whatever they had in their car. 
After the buddy ran away, one 
of my coworkers came to my aid. Karla recognized my 1984 Citation in the middle 
of the road as she left Crown Center. Karla stayed with me until my dad came to 
the hospital. Luckily, the injuries were relatively minor considering there was 
no driver’s seat left. Hip, back, shoulder, head—all aches and pains but nothing 
broken.  
Since there were 
no broken bones, and I was adamant about preparing for the work summit, the 
hospital let me leave. It was about 1:00am when my dad drove me away from the 
hospital. He drove me to my apartment to gather clothes for the week, then he 
drove me to work to gather materials needed for the summit. The next day, he 
drove me to Crown Center and waited until my part in the meeting was completed, 
then he drove me back to my parents' home. He did the same thing every day that 
week.
June 11, 1989 comes to mind 
often for a few reasons. 
One, the pain and the hassle 
caused by the crash, obviously. Two, it is annoying to be a victim of a 
drunk/drugged driver. He apologized after court a month or so later, but it 
still chaps my hide that something so unnecessary happened. Three, and most 
importantly, it was Father’s Day and I had not seen my dad that weekend until he 
arrived at the hospital. Instead of being home having a burger with my dad, I 
spent the weekend with friends. But, when I needed my dad, he was there for me, 
even in the middle of the night on Father’s Day.
As you get ready for Father’s 
Day weekend, I hope your fond memories of your dad bring you much 
joy. Dads are there without 
fanfare, and you never know when one minor incident will stick with 
someone.
Happy Father’s Day to all of 
the MRIGlobal dads, granddads, stepdads, people who fill in as dads, and moms 
who wear the dad hats! 
Let's all have a memorable weekend but not as memorable as the one from 
1989.