Patch Adams, M.D.
In 1972, Dr. Patch Adams founded the Gesundheit! Institute, an organization based on promoting available and compassionate health care throughout America and the world. A physician, a social activist, a performer, and an author, he was the subject of a feature film starring Robin Williams in 1998.

My father died when I was sixteen as a result of war. He was a professional soldier who fought during World War II and Korea. Before he died of body, he died in his soul and heart to me, his second of two sons. My father met my mom in New York City for a weekend furlough in the fall of 1944, and I was born on May 28, 1945. He first saw me long after I was born. Half of the sixteen years we had together, he was away being a soldier, an officer.

Today, his lost humanity would be foolishly and simplistically called post-traumatic stress syndrome. I don’t hear it being said that maybe the natural, healthy response to the horror of war (even when you fight for “good”) is to crumble inside, like the most potent allergic reaction (of mind) I have experienced. Healthy people cannot help but be traumatized by it. For the doctor in me, it is evidence of mental health to be traumatized by war — especially if you participated. Growing up on army bases, I saw the palpable trauma in the countless officer parties that consisted of heavy drinking and smoking. The only weeping I remember Dad doing came when he was asked about the wars. It is very natural for a son to ask questions about his father’s job. As a kid, at home, when he was in Korea — every day I thought he could be killed. As I went from age six to age nine, I began to imagine what he was doing to others.

I thought he didn’t love me as I grew up. I was a sissy, a nerd; he was the big athlete. As a teenager, I crumbled when he died suddenly. We had just begun to talk (he apologized for not playing with me and told me a lot of war stories). We moved to the South in 1961, gallantly engaged, fighting racism. I was shocked, horrified at the segregation and at how few people spoke up against it. I went to marches and sit-ins. I connected the spirit of hatred I felt in that struggle with what had killed my father — just another form. I did not fit in. When I was seventeen and eighteen, I was hospitalized. I hurt from the stupid horror. I wanted to die, unable to understand the adult world’s choosing violence and injustice over compassion and generosity. These qualities — compassion and generosity — found pure expression in my mom.

In the last hospitalization, on a locked ward, I put my intelligence to understanding all that had happened and reading and interviewing. There were alternatives to the violence and injustice. My attempted suicide had simply joined the style. I think I became a citizen and said to myself that since I am concerned about peace and justice, then I must speak up and provide alternatives. It was a call to be proactive (a call my father answered in 1942). Inherent in the effort is the opportunity to feel fulfilled with meaning. I have found this to be one of life’s enchantments.

I have lived every minute since leaving the mental hospital in 1963 in service to peace, justice, and caring for others. My father was instrumental in that choice, so indirectly my father gave me my life’s work. I decided to be nonviolent, so during the Vietnam War I put great effort into getting a conscientious objector status and succeeded in 1971. I was declared unfit to kill. My children also automatically earn the same status. What a gift Dad gave me to protect myself and children from harm. I am so glad I have not hurt people.

I’m sure the same ethical river, the activism I rode on, led me to create our free model hospital project and zealously stick to it all this time (it’s been heaven). I quickly and clearly saw the relationship between what wars are all about and what prevents the richest country of the world from caring for all of its citizens. In the last twenty-one years, I have also led as many as nine clown trips in one year. We have taken clowns into war zones three times and into many refugee camps. It is the sweetest time of my life. My brother and both of my sons assist me in this work. Combined, they made a total of ten trips in 2004.

Dad showed me the work I must do and was smart enough to court my mom and wed her. She gave me the tools needed to carry out the work with relentless glee and creativity.

Finally, Dad was an intellectual, well read in literature and ideas. When he was home while I was growing up, I saw him, in his chair, drinking and smoking heavily while reading books. Reading has been so important to me that no other pastime has intoxicated me like it has. If his reading got me reading, then I kiss his feet.

As I reflect on all this, more than I have ever done before, I feel a well of gratitude for my life of nonviolence and working for justice for all people. I’m a happy man because I was never involved in a war. I want to thank Dad for the richness of my life in such bountiful quests every day. But I would have traded all these lessons his life gave me for a regular dad, present, playful, and tender.

Bertie Ahern, T.D.
Former Dublin mayor Bertie Ahern is the youngest prime minister in the Republic of Ireland’s modern history. He assumed the post at the age of forty-five after twenty years as a member of Parliament. He was born and attended school in Dublin.

My father always said to me, “Be truthful with yourself and always be truthful with others.”

Whatever about the former, you may ask how I have been in public life for more than thirty years considering the latter part of my father’s advice!

My father came from a generation that put so much emphasis on personal qualities such as truth, dignity, and respect for others. He was a wise man, but, like many of his day, he did not wear his wisdom on his sleeve. He was actively involved in the struggle for Irish independence and passionately believed in the rights and freedoms that all people should enjoy. He also knew at times that there was a terrible price to pay for such rights. And I think that is why I have always sought to understand both sides of an argument, that no one is ever totally right or wrong, that respect is due to all protagonists, and that everyone needs to be heard.

He was a quiet man, devoted to my mother and his family, and although his words were sparse, I always knew he wanted me to aspire to the values he held close. They were simple values, the same as any father would instill in his children. I would like to think that they have helped me along my life’s journey.

Excerpted from “My Dad and Me” by Larry King. Copyright © 2006 by Larry King. Excerpted by permission of Crown, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

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