I remember exactly where I was sitting. It was a bright, sunny day and spring was in the air, but not for Jennifer and me. We were having no luck creating a flower, and it was beginning to take a toll on our relationship. I remember thinking that maybe, just maybe, our lack of success was the universe's way of telling me that I wasn't cut out to be a father.
Donald E. Anderson, aged 73, a retired postal worker in Seattle, Washington, died recently. I didn't know Mr. Anderson, who lived at literally the opposite end of the U.S. from my home in New Hampshire, and he didn't know me. But he has had a lasting imprint on me and my family. We are linked forever, and I hope we can live up to his legacy.