My father’s airplane, hanging upside down, was cradled by a gentle nest of tree branches and power lines. The scene proved more than my delicate psyche could absorb having only experienced five years of development in this world.

No one ever survives, my brief knowledge of plane crashes told me, formulated by viewing the height of action TV circa 1983. Half of my entire world revolved solely around this one man, and now he was leaving us?

Moments later, I found myself torn between the confirmation that my hero could survive anything and the brutal realization that I had just learned my first life lesson: we’re all ephemeral and so very fragile.

Amazingly, 25 years later this scene replays itself clear as an autumn morning, reaffirming the formative power of time and memories.