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Hello and happy Father's Day to everybody.

This is the 10th anniversary for my brother and I

of not having anyone to call or send a ridiculous card to on this day.

It got me thinking about my sweet old father and I decided I wanted to read something that I wrote 10 years ago about his

passing. It's called my father's horniness. My father David Robert Shepard Senior, died on either December 30th or December 31st, depending on what time zone you were in.

I received the call on the 30th at 1130 p.m. in Los Angeles, but the caller

positioned in Detroit was two hours deep into the 31st. He was dead at 62 years old.

Small cell carcinoma was to blame. It originated in the lungs and then

traveled with great speed to all corners of his body. I had been back to Detroit just six

days before and was disappointed I couldn't be with him at the actual finish line.

We were partners. We had taken on this cancer project together. He chose me to deal with all the

doctors and creditors and landlords.

It was the only project we ever teamed up on.

We never built a tree house or a soapbox derby car together, but you wouldn't have known

it by watching us tear through the chemo decisions and radiation plans.

We were two great minds with one single thought.

Get into the end zone gracefully.

He had noticed a lump in his neck in August. A biopsy was taken and some chest x-rays,

A mass was detected on the lungs. Those were his words to me, a mass, which sounded much more like the words of a doctor than the

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