What My Dad Taught Me

Many years ago, an elderly man named Ted Strollo stepped off a curb in downtown Los Gatos, California, unaware of the vehicle that failed to stop for a red light. The vehicle struck Ted with such force that bystanders heard the sickening impact, followed by the screams of horrified pedestrians who witnessed the accident.

Ted flew 20 feet, his body bouncing down the street like a rag doll before resting in a tangled mass of bleeding limbs. He lay motionless as an onlooker said, “He must be dead.”

Witnesses stood frozen in horror, and no one checked on Ted. Then a man in an old truck who observed the accident pulled over, jumped out, and ran to render aid.

That man was my father.