So what I am
doing to honor him is to nominate Cory Lemke for Faces in the Crowd.
accomplishments were being the best friend a guy could ask for, the most loving
and best son a father could ask for and a truly gentle and loving kid with the
greatest smile in these United States.
I don't know how
I will cope without him. I hurt so much, and I miss him so much, just to talk
to or watch sports together. God, I loved that boy so much!!
You call him.
He's a 51-year-old truck driver in Sheldon, Iowa. He's on the road four or five
days a week, just him and his rig and his sorrow.
Even on the
phone, you can tell he's one of those tough guys who's not used to fighting off
tears. And you can hear that he's losing.
He tells you how
he and Cory played golf together every day they could--"thousands of
rounds," he says--kidded each other endlessly and then, when it got dark or
cold, played video golf together or watched the Vikings or just shot the bull.
How his son gave him 16 shots the last time they played and still took $20 off
the old man.
telling the kid that night, July 7, as Cory left to go to a car show in Hull,
"Get some sleep, buddy. You gotta play tomorrow." And later: the phone
ringing and the sickening cry in his wife Maud's voice from the kitchen,
moaning, "Is he dead?"
He didn't even
wait to see what it was, he just sprinted to his car and floored it to Hull.
But he couldn't get there fast enough because Cory was as good as dead the
second he hit that van. "No brain activity at all," the doctor said.
Great idea. Let me test-drive your motorcycle. No helmet. Kids.