August 9th (20 page)

The second big event was the IPO of Facebook which made tons of money for a number of my friends up North. The magic of Facebook is twofold. First it connects people in an ingenious way and secondly it is unbelievably addictive. I should know since you can put me in that addictive group.

Finally, thank God the Iraq War is finally over. I have yet to hear a coherent justification for what we did. The numbers are staggering: 4,500 Americans killed, 100,000 Iraqi lives lost at a cost of $800 billion.

Luckily, everything else in my little part of the world is just fine. I hope your world is smiling.

Dear Tess,

Can you believe Caroline and Ben are now in their early thirties; Em will be eight in November and Nick will be five in January? In retrospect, time really does fly.

The grandkids are so much fun and I enjoy every moment I spend with them. Em is just like her Mother and wants to know why her nickname can’t just be the letter “M?” I’ll let Caroline answer that question. Nick climbs, rides or jumps on everything. He should automatically put his helmet on whenever he goes outdoors.

In December Caroline received a special award for her tireless efforts to fight autism from the City of San Francisco. Her acceptance speech was, not unexpectedly, brilliant. I’ve suggested she consider politics and she didn’t say no which was encouraging. I could see her running for something in Santa Monica when the kids get a little older. Reed is already one of the top environmental lawyers in the state.

Speaking of politics, I was approached by some friends who wanted me to run for the State Senate. I was flattered but passed, only to later have second thoughts. Considering my opposition to the insane wars we get involved in, Afghanistan being the latest, maybe I should instead run for the U.S. Congress? Not surprisingly, Caroline thought it was a great idea. The biggest negative for me would be all the time away from my family assuming I had a chance to win. I’m not sure I could or want to do that at this stage of my life.

I have to share a remarkable dream I had since you were part of it. Here’s what probably set-up my dream. After yoga one day I heard a couple of women talking about Led Zeppelin. They told me to go to YouTube and type in “The Kennedy Center Honors, Led Zeppelin, Stairway to Heaven” and then sit back and enjoy one of the great rock performances of all time. So I did and they were right.

Plant, Page and Jones were honorees and were seated in the balcony with their wives and the President and First Lady. Performers who honored them by singing their songs included the Foo Fighters, Kid Rock, Lenny Kravitz and Heart. It was Heart’s Ann and Nancy Wilson who brought the house down and tears to the eyes of the three living Zeppelin band members.

The Wilson’s came out on the darkened stage alone as one beam of light highlighted them. Ann sang with Nancy on guitar and they were soon joined by a wonderful orchestra featuring drummer Jason Bonham, the son of deceased Zeppelin drummer John Bonham. But,
there was more. In the middle of the song the lights to the side of the orchestra came on to reveal a choir reminiscent of a gospel choir in church. Then near the climax of the song the lights behind the orchestra came on to showcase another ninety member choir. The result was a magical finish and probably one of the great rock performances I’ve ever seen.

And that takes me to my dream. I was at the Kennedy Center Honors that night but this time with Caroline at my side and in the row in front of us, just as it was more than forty years ago, sat a woman with your same beautiful hair. As the audience stood to applaud the performers after Stairway the entire audience except one person turned to the balcony to salute Led Zeppelin. That one person was me and I didn’t turn until I saw the beautiful face, amazing smile and unforgettable eyes of the woman in the row in front of me.

Tess, the older I get the more I realize that magic, captured in a memory, really is timeless.

My Dearest Tess,

Since 1970, on this day of the year, I have sent you a letter. Remarkably, your name, addresses and that you were a Delta Gamma at UCSB is really all I know about you. Yet, the image of your smiling face and sparkling eyes that I saw twice for just a few seconds in Anaheim forty-five years ago is as vivid and clear today as it was then.

Somehow, someway you’ve taught me more about life than anyone, except for Maggie. With time I realized the letters I wrote to you were also letters meant for me. The reflection and the perspective helped guide me through the ups and downs, successes and failures and joys and sorrows of a very full life.

Maggie and I were blessed with two wonderful children and she, without much help from me, raised them into outstanding individuals. I am saddened beyond belief that she is not here to enjoy her two grandkids.
My priorities, my values, my character have often been flawed and misdirected but Maggie was my compass who always patiently waited for me to find the right direction and my truth. My life changed forever the night Maggie was killed. The emptiness, the sadness, and the guilt have never left me.

Tess, although we have never spoken and I have never received a response to any of my letters you have taught me much about three of life’s most mystifying subjects: hope, magic and timelessness. I’m not sure I believed or even thought much about these as a twenty year old in 1969. Today, however, at sixty-four, I believe and think often of all three.

It’s no accident I have never written about love and us. Early on I was confused and didn’t really know what to think or write, but with time it became clear the feelings I have for you are unique and of a different context then I have ever felt. Perhaps love was the fantasy but I always had that in my life with Maggie.

When Maggie passed I wrote a letter to you suggesting and hoping you’d agree to meet, but I could never mail that letter. My conscience, my truth kept reminding me with unmistakable clarity that I could not disrespect Maggie. That being said, I know Maggie would have been the first person to tell me to contact you but I have never had her strength and without her I could never take that step.

Tess, I am not well. I am writing you from the intensive care unit at the UCLA Medical Center. I’m dying of a terrible cancer that has overcome my body. At the
beginning of the year I was diagnosed with advanced pancreatic cancer. Any symptoms I may have had were camouflaged and nothing seemed irregular until the pain in my abdomen became severe. Since diagnosed I have endured surgeries, radiation, chemo and have even been a participant in clinical trials for experimental treatments. When death is the prognosis, one will try anything.

There is no stronger human instinct than the will to survive but my pain and the suffering it is causing my family is unbearable. Over the last few days I’ve had personal conversations with those I love. It has been the most difficult thing I have ever done in my life but I had so much gratitude to personally deliver. When Ben and Caroline came into my room a couple hours ago my physical pain suddenly disappeared only to be replaced by the emotional pain that quickly overwhelmed me. As Caroline and Ben held my hands I became a sobbing mess. Then, as first Caroline and then Ben kissed my forehead I could endure no more pain and shut down. I don’t know how long I was asleep but I awoke to my wonderful, beautiful children still holding my hands.

Tess, my doctors are amazed I’ve lived this long but they haven’t had the benefit or the magic of my calendar with August 9
^th
circled. Now my hand can write no more and I’ve had to have a nurse help me finish this letter. Tess, I have willed myself to stay at least until today so I could finish your letter.

With my family at my side as I close my eyes for the very last time I hope to see two images. First, Maggie,
the amazing love of my life waiting for me to walk her down the aisle as my wife and partner, for all eternity. Then, I will see your beautiful face, your magical eyes and your incredible smile that symbolically speaks and forever reminds me of the best that is human. And, those two images will be more than enough.

With all my love, forever,

s Tess walked to the entrance of the Ronald Reagan UCLA Medical Center she felt a shortness of breath and started to get chills despite the hot summer day. Taking a moment to collect herself she rested her black leather case on the sidewalk and took three deep breaths, raising and shrugging her shoulders with each.