I took my father's hand and we went downstairs. On the way to his den Dad poked his head in the kitchen and asked if Mark needed stitches. I winced at that remembering that Gregg had needed six after I had gotten him. My poor brother, never mind how much worse it could have been if the lamp had hit him. Mom had said it wasn't that bad and Dad told her we would be in the Den.

Dad's den was really an extra bedroom that he had populated with a tv, a couple of recliners and a small couch. The room smelled of the cigars that he loved and...