This morning on my flight to San Francisco I read "The Council of Dads: My Daughters, My Illness, and the Men Who
Could Be Me," the latest book by Bruce Feiler that comes out this April.
This is the first time in my life I have read a book cover to cover in one
sitting and I can unequivocally say that Bruce's book is the single most
important and heart-felt and inspiring book I have ever read.
I met Bruce just two weeks ago. We both were invited by
Jen and David Linn to help open the Nasdaq exchange in honor of their fundraiser
for rare cancers, Cycle for Survival (many of your may recognize the cause as
I'm raising money and cycling in the event this year). As we were waiting to
press the button, I was fortunate enough to meet Nicole Chismar from Harper Collins, Bruce's publishing
company. I jokingly asked if people read books anymore. They're so long too
long and have too many words, I said.
Nicole introduced me to a tall man in a sharp, dark suit
with sandy blond hair and a cane. We were standing opposite the Nasdaq's
gigantic wall of monitors near the windows overlooking Broadway and Times
Square. I assumed he worked on Wall Street. Nope. It was Bruce. I asked what he
did. He said he was in the book publishing industry. (He failed to mention that
he has written 10 books and is a New York Times best seller!). On the way out,
Nicole gave me an "Uncorrected Proof" of the book (thank you
Nicole and if I were his editor I wouldn't change a word!!!). Be on the lookout April 27 for the book.
About two years ago, Bruce learned that he had a
seven-inch tumor in his leg that turned out to be a very rare and serious form
of bone cancer. When he got home that afternoon, his twin daughters "came
in, running and giggling and looking in the mirror." As the daughters
danced, Bruce writes, "I crumbled. I kept imagining all the walks I might
not take with them, the ballet recitals I might not see, the art projects I
might not mess up, the boyfriends I might not scowl at, the aisles I might not
walk down."
These are thoughts I have had many times as I play with
my own kids. I'm not supposed to be here. I'm supposed to be dead from a faulty
heart and heart valve.
Faced with death, Bruce reached out to 6 men from all
phases of his life who he thought could be "his voice" for his
daughters after he died. He called this group "The Council of Dads."
"I believe my daughters will have plenty of
opportunities," he writes in a letter to the "Dads."
"They'll have loving families. They'll have welcoming homes. They'll have
each other. But they may not have me. They may not have their dad. Will you
help be their dad?"
The beauty of the Council that Bruce went on the create is that each man is truly
remarkable in his own way. But each also represents a very ordinary man willing
to do anything to help a friend. They are matchless in their insight and
emotional bond they share with Bruce. But very common in that I can see
glimpses of many of my friends in each of them and I'm sure you'll be able to
as well.
There's Jeff Shumlin, the owner of the Putney Student
Travel Company, who shared stories of cow tipping in Europe as a college kid
with Bruce and tells Bruce he will encourage his daughters to "jump
in," live life and get "covered in mud."
There's Max Stier, a fellow Yalie from Iowa whose dad
died when he was three. Max tells Bruce, "The most important thing a
parent can do, I believe, is water a child profusely with love. I would water
your children with love."
There's David Black, Bruce's agent, a short, fiery
"modern man" who has become one of his closest friends and is fond of
answering the phone "Yo motherfucker." Bruce's flowing description of
David is one of the most enjoyable parts of the book and I plan on writing
David and asking if I can buy him a beer. Bruce writes about David, "A
literary agent is a broker of dreams in a world in which most dreams don't come
true. It's this aspect of David - his finesse at handling aspirations and
setbacks - that is his greatest skill, and the gift Linda and I most wanted to
share with our daughters."
There's Ben Edwards, the childhood friend who has nothing
in common with Bruce other than they grew up together. But, as Bruce writes,
"He was that friend who was there at the beginning, who regardless of what
had happened in between, returned at a moment of possible ending to remind me
of where we both started: two squiggly boys in a drainage ditch trying to
cultivate arms and legs to hop off into the world."
Then there's Ben "The Second," Ben Sherwood, an
old drinking buddy from New York City with a "big resume" - Rhodes
Scholarship, multiple Emmys - and an even bigger heart. Ben points out in the
book, "What I love about the Council of Dads is that if your girls are too
young to hear your voice, you can surround them with voices that will, in their
totality of symphony, create sounds of the father."
Lastly, there's Joshua Ramo, a handsome bachelor and
former Time magazine foreign correspondent, who insisted Bruce that he would
teach his girls "how easy it is to see beauty."
While the descriptions of the Council members and what
each wants to share with Bruce's daughters are poignant, enlightening and
thought-provoking, it's Bruce's own writing about what it was like to fight the
cancer during his "Lost Year" while facing imminent death, all in
front of two young daughters, that makes The Council of Dads such an
astonishing read.
His treatment included an aggressive chemo regime and a
15-hour surgery right out of a sci fi movie in which doctors removed several
bones from his leg and reconstructed it in a titanium-filled procedure only one
person has ever survived.
Please be warned that this is not one man's grasp for
attention -- "look at me, I survived cancer." It's a journey of the
mind and body, family and friends, love and sadness, in which the author stays
present with his emotions throughout and recounts them with vivid detail.
"As you can see," Bruce writes, "cancer is
not linear. Our lives rock unaccountably - and unpredictably - among moments of
hardship, stress, joy, pride, laughter and exhaustion. There is profundity to
explore, but also laundry to do."
Bruce's ability to mix the profound and awe-inspiring
with the mundane makes his book accessible and universally actionable to help
you live a more balanced and focused life.
Early in his war against cancer, Bruce writes that cancer
"is a passport to intimacy. It's an invitation - even a mandate - to enter
the most vital, frightening, and sensitive human arenas."
By chronicling in such depth and compassion and pain his
own relationship with cancer, Bruce's book serves a passport to understanding
and an invitation for each of us to ask ourselves "Who is my Council of
Dads?"
Thanks Bruce for a wonderful book that will help guide my
life for many years to come. There's no doubt that I'll take many walks for
you, and hopefully several with you! In the meantime, I look forward to riding in Cycle for Survival with you Sunday!
