After author Bruce Feiler was diagnosed with cancer in July 2008, he decided he needed to write a letter to six of his closest friends.
He asked them to be there for his then-3-year-old twin daughters, Eden and Tybee, if he died. Each man represented a different era of Feiler's life and a different aspect of Feiler's personality that he wanted passed on to his girls. He asked them to join what he called "The Council of Dads," which would live on after he was gone.
This kind of letter could not simply be slipped in the mail. Instead, he read it to each one in person, even though they lived far apart: New York; Savannah, Ga.; Los Angeles; Washington; Putney, Vt.; and Beijing. He visited two; the rest came to see him during his long year of treatment in New York.
"I'd read it with tears in my eyes," says Feiler, 45, who developed a 7-inch tumor in his femur. Since surgery in December 2008, he has been cancer free. "They'd be tearing up, too. Some immediately accepted what I was proposing. Some hesitated at first, saying, 'I'm not doing this. You're not going anywhere.' Ultimately, each man agreed to join the council."
The experience is chronicled in Feiler's new book, The Council of Dads: My Daughters, My Illness, and the Men Who Could Be Me (William Morrow, $22.99). Feiler, author of Walking the Bible and America's Prophet, talks about his recovery and effort to create his council -- and how others can do the same, regardless of their health status:
Q: Did you practice telling your daughters about your disease?
A: We were honest, but not too honest. We never used the word "cancer." To this day, it's "Daddy has a boo-boo leg." We didn't want to provide more information than we had to and wanted to avoid scaring them. When I had my surgery to remove the tumor, the girls came to the hospital to visit me. I gave them a copy of Curious George Goes to the Hospital to make them feel more comfortable. When they left, I broke down, but I was so proud of how they were handling it.
Q: Your family has experienced loss, sometimes in unexpected, even stunning fashion. Your grandfather was a successful lawyer who shot and killed himself after being diagnosed with Parkinson's. How did this history shape your own approach to your mortality?
A: When I got sick, my No. 1 rule was to talk about the pain. My family had always avoided these conversations. It was partially a generational thing. My grandfather was suffering but didn't talk about how he felt. The inability to express his feelings and invite people into his life was part of the problem. For me, cancer became a passport to intimacy and allowed me to ask and answer any questions out there and have the kinds of conversations that allow you to draw closer to others.
Q: And this led to your Council of Dads. How did you take the initial steps?
A: My wife was central to the process. I made the list of possible dads about 20 times. We kept going back to "Who are the closest, most trusted of these friends? What aspects of my personality does each one capture that I want passed on?" I needed someone from my hometown. I needed someone who could teach my daughters how to travel, because travel is so important in my life and work. I needed someone to talk about nature, beauty, art and music, so I settled into a list where each man conveyed individual parts of who I am -- and who I wanted them to be.
Q: You've come up with a website, councilofdads.com, to encourage folks to start their own councils. Are there any hard-set rules that people need to follow?
A: No. There is no one way to do a council. I put together a tool kit on my site to list some simple steps. Some people I know have three members, others 12 or 20. My wife has 10, for example, in her Council of Moms. You could pick your family, friends or whomever. I know someone who picked Thomas Jefferson. He's telling his kids, "If you want to know who I am, read the works of Jefferson."
Q: How do you avoid hurting the feelings of someone you didn't invite to be on the council?
A: You may want to make the council larger if that's an issue. And remember that you can always add people after the initial round, or as your kids grow older and have new needs.
Q: How do you ensure that it keeps going after you're gone, that it's not just a "feel good at the time" effort that eventually fades?
A: Because it's not really about you. It's about children who are still there and need their father or mother's voice in their lives. The men in my council are developing deep relationships with my daughters, and these will only grow as time goes on.
McCafferty reports for USA WEEKEND magazine.
Jeff
Shumlin
Council of Dads
When he was diagnosed with cancer, author Bruce Feiler asked six close friends to be there for his twin daughters, Eden and Tybee, in the event he died. Each man represented a different era and aspect of his personality that he wanted to be passed on
to his girls.
David Black
Ben
Edwards
Joshua Ramo
Max Stier
Ben
Sherwood
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