LOCAL ANGLES: FATHER'S SPIRIT THRIVES THROUGH FLOWER

On Father's Day, Dick Harrison might be thinking of a flower in Hawaii that has a reputation for running wild and free, seemingly bound by its own laws when the climate is just right.

The flower reminds the Cape resident of some of his father's richest and most elegant moments on Earth.

"The flower is called Bird of Paradise and grows wild in a place called Kauai," said Harrison.

When he said this, his head was slightly bent, his eyes somehow genuflecting to show respect and love for a man who succumbed to cancer some 90 days after Dick's own son, John David, was claimed by an even rarer form of cancer called schwanoma. This double dose of hardship happened several years ago, but he remembers as if it were yesterday.

"Dad was never able to grow the flower because he was living in the Midwest, which was the wrong kind of climate," he said. "Still, it was one of his favorites, so he never quit trying."

That trait, of never giving in, of pushing nature to the brink, was instilled in Dick's father by his grandfather, who owned a considerable chunk of land in Scott County before the Depression dealt him a severe blow.

The Harrisons, who grew up in Benton and later moved to Memphis, are used to severe trial. They're also accustomed to bouncing back. But sometimes they are left to deal with the seemingly unexplainable.

Dick is by now moved to thoughts of his wife Janey, who drew her last breath while in his arms just over a year ago. She ultimately fell victim to a severe asthma attack he believes would have been repelled were it not for the fact that it happened in the wrong climate.

"It's strange how she felt better that day than she felt in a long time," he said. "Then suddenly at 3:30 in the morning she had difficulty breathing and even with the machine we had in the living room we couldn't save her."

Perhaps a petal of that flower belongs with the memory of Janey, a woman Harrison calls his best friend forever.

Harrison was telling the story of his family one day before he was to receive his final chemotherapy treatment from Barnes Hospital in St. Louis. "That place is a teaching hospital, and I like that because it means they are on the cutting edge of technology," he said. "After what has happened to some people I've known, I can't say that I have a lot of trust in doctors. But I can respect them as long as they don't think they're God."

In Harrison's eyes we're all vulnerable in one way or another. For those reasons, and others, we all have to have some fight in us.

Judging from the mischief that dances in his eyes, Dick Harrison appears to be sending cancer of the bone marrow back to its nasty nest. The message attached? If you plan to come back, expect another fight!

It is his second bout with cancer. The first started in his larynx in 1991, the second in his hip six months ago. Both began in the form of minuscule oat cells. Results from a biopsy told doctors to cancel a scheduled operation to remove his larynx and move toward chemotherapy. "If they hadn't made that discovery, I'd be dead right now," he said.

Harrison, who deals in real estate, positive thinking and a firm belief that the course of his life and those closest to him is all part of God's will, doesn't allow bitterness to enter into his daily routine.

"The mind can become a very powerful thing if you let it," said Harrison. "I really believe that your mental outlook has a lot to do with whether or not you can survive cancer. I lost a very good friend this year," he said with a somber expression. "He was told he had cancer in August and died in November. I've got to believe part of it had to do with him believing he couldn't fight it."

He understands that cancer runs in his family like a mean virus. "It's in the Harrison genes, no question about it," he said. "But if I didn't think God had a reason for it all, it would drive me crazy."

He is still haunted by thoughts of what a doctor told the Cape County Coroner after the death of his wife. "He told John Carpenter that she could have died from asthma any time after she was 10 years old," he said.

"If I had known that, I would have talked her into moving to some place like Arizona or Nevada. When we took trips to those places she seemed like she could walk for hours. But in Cape, in the winter and summer, she might have trouble walking from the parking lot to Famous Barr, where she worked."

He tries not to dwell on what might have been, soothed by memories of trips they took. "One more month and we would have been married eight years," he said. "But I don't really want to complain because we had some really good times together," he said.

When he thinks of his children, Richard, who lives in Hampton, Va., Michael, in Baltimore, and Susannah, in Sikeston, Dick Harrison is reminded of a vacation the family took several years ago.

"We ended up going to this place called Chemayo, New Mexico," he said. "My mother read something about the healing powers of the water. We just thought it would be a fun place to go, so we packed up enough clothes and equipment and hit the highway."

They would discover Indian artifacts, art and interesting revelations about themselves. "We often talk about that vacation when we get together or when I send E mail to my sons," he said. "The kids thought they were discovering everything ahead of their parents."

That thought reminds him of one of his favorite sayings by one of his favorite authors. "Mark Twain once said that he hated being the son of some of the dumbest parents alive," said Harrison, the twinkle in his eye manifesting itself more now than at any other time. "He couldn't believe how smart they had become in just three years, when he turned 21."

When it comes to kids, to family, Dick Harrison will talk up a storm. This subject and many more put him in his element. "That's what it's all about -- kids," he said softly. "I've always thought that if it was important enough for my kids to get involved, it was important enough for me to get involved. Whether it was Boy Scouts or Little League, or whatever, it was all a lot of fun. It's given me some great memories and a lot to talk about when we get together."

Perhaps he'll remind the kids about the strangest thing that happened after he emerged victorious from his first bout with cancer. "Not only did my hair grow back, but it was darker and thicker," he said. "I was kind of hoping it would be curly, but I guess you can't have everything."

Perhaps the curls will emerge after he's completely cured the second time around.

At any rate, as long as he has this stubbornness to live and his family to share that lust for life, he will continue to smell the sweet symmetry and substance of his father's favorite flower.

~Bill Heitland is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian