On the third day of his consciousness, I fell asleep on the hospital bed, while my father did his walking exercises. I woke to find him regarding me thoughtfully. “Shall I tell you something, Arty?” he said. I nodded, unsure what to expect. “While I was a prisoner, I thought about my life, how I had wasted it gathering riches whatever the cost to my family and others around me. In a man’s life, he gets few chances to make a difference. To do the right thing. To be a hero, if you will. I intend to become involved in that struggle.” This was not the kind of wisdom I was accustomed to hearing
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