BY THE WAY: HARRISON LEFT LASTING IMPRESSION

I can still see Dick Harrison standing close to the entrance of the Playdium, armed with a mischievous grin and the promise of another compelling story.

When he began unraveling one of his favorite yarns, he had this knack of making you forget about time and place. I noticed this when I called him at home and asked if he would mind telling me about his second bout with cancer.

He gave me that familiar, "Why sure, come on over."

He told me that the chemotherapy wasn't painful. In fact, he said he would read a magazine at Barnes Hospital in St. Louis while being fed a drug that would keep him from getting sick.

While he was telling me about how important it was to kick cancer where it lived, I noticed that there was a teddy bear propped up at the other end of the couch.

It didn't seem important at the time, but now it makes perfect sense. I have a vivid recollection of Dick Harrison on one end of the couch and the teddy bear at the other end.

To me it is the perfect symbol for this extraordinary individual. He had to be hard-nosed to fight cancer the way he did, particularly when you consider that it ran in his family like a mean virus.

But what made him interesting was his ability to mix a tough exterior with the kindness and gentle nature of a teddy bear.

I could tell it was difficult for him to talk about the loss of his wife Janey. She died in his arms May 16, 1993. He later told me when he read that it made him cry. The column about Dick Harrison's fight with cancer appeared in this paper June 15. Dick and Janey were married June 15, 1985 in Las Vegas.

He still wore his wedding ring. I think she was always with him in spirit. He lamented the fact that if she had lived just one month longer, they could have celebrated their eighth anniversary.

We talked about his family, about his sons Richard and Michael, daughter Suzanna and sister Mary. He talked about the loss of his father and son, John David. Both died of cancer just 90 days apart.

When I heard the news the other day that Dick did not survive his third bout with cancer, I was somewhat surprised. It was a sad moment to hear he didn't make it to his 63rd birthday.

I can't say that we were close friends or anything. But he did give me the feeling that he knew more about me than most people.

His love of live was infectious. He was the kind of person people liked being around because he untangled what seemed complex and filled you with a sense of hope.

He specialized in selling commercial real estate. He said it was just as easy to sell a $1 million building as it was a $50,000 home, so why not take the more expensive property, sell it and make a bigger commission?

A woman in Bella Vista, Ark., who left Cape Girardeau in 1942, read about Dick Harrison and sent me a postcard. She could identify with Dick's hunch about his hair. He said that when he beat cancer the second time around, he had a feeling he would not only get all of his hair back, but it would be curly.

"I have a friend here who has beautiful curly hair after two bouts with cancer," the Bella Vista woman wrote. "She is 78 with a positive attitude. Dick sounds like someone one would want to put their arms around. If he is still living my heart reaches to him."

His obituary says he died Nov. 30, 1994 at home. As long as I can think about the man with the mischievous grin and the stories Mark Twain would have been proud to call his own, he will live where time and place don't matter.

~Bill Heitland is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.