So let me take you back to the summer of 1988. Yes, the year that I graduated high school.

The top movies, and I had to look these up, Who Framed Roger Rabbit, Coming to America, Crocodile Dundee, not part one.

No, we're talking part two. Big, Willow, Die Hard, and music.

George Michael topped the charts with faith in excess with

Need You Tonight. And Rick Astley was never going to give you up. So I was a high school senior.

I was growing up in Sandy, Utah. And we had a very late winter. And the high school baseball season

was going to consist of probably about a dozen games,

so much different than where I live now in California,

where the baseball season can last all year long.

So I was actually looking forward to summer leagues,

and I had been talking to a couple of college scouts,

and I was really hoping to be able to play somewhere in college.

And then we head out on a senior trip to St. George, where I end up getting run over by a 20-foot dual-prop ski boat and cut up both of my legs. And that, in essence, put a

little bit of an end to my baseball hopes and dreams. And then on July 31st, 1988, one of my very

best friends, Trent Curl, along with his brother Toby and

Trent's girlfriend, Lisa Warren, who actually had been my eighth grade crush and Toby's

best friend Jeremy were killed tragically when their car drifted into oncoming traffic on the

way back home from a trip to Jackson Hole. Then a couple of years later, I remember vividly

receiving a call from my dad that

my brother had passed away. I had just turned 21, so that would have made him 24. And now fast forward

to just a two or three years ago. My daughter McKinley, my wife Wendy, and I were preparing to

run a half marathon and we were listening to music and I was playing some Jackson 5. Now don't judge,

...