On July 3, my eight-year-old son, Alex, collapsed on the baseball field here. He had complained of a mild headache for a day or two. My dog, Jack, had just died of a heat stoke the day before, so you might imagine what was going through our minds when we got the call. "Alex has passed out on the ball field, and I’ve called an ambulance." I’m a fucking mad man in stressful situations, but I knew I had to stay cool for my son.

The ball park was just minutes away, but the ride felt eternal. Tammy kept saying it’s okay, it’s okay as I held both sides of my mind, trying to make it and my body be still. Even though, I had been teaching my internal dialog a lesson of calmness while running to him, I still exploded on anyone close enough.

Then I saw a fellow father, Chip, an off-duty Kentucky State Trooper with his shirt under Alex’s neck, his hand supporting my son’s head, talking to him and gently holding a cup of cool water to his lips. I shut up immediately when humanity forced me to and watched, dazed, calmly crazed now. I slowly moved the person to my left to the side, leaned over my son and asked him if he was alright. He didn’t answer. I saw green everywhere dad, he said. When the paramedics arrived, they asked the usual questions: what his name was, what day it was, who the president was.

They tried to stand him up. But my son could not. So, he was carried to the ambulance. Tammy asked me if I wanted to ride with him. I said nothing. I couldn’t muster a word. But as I sat in my car, weeping for him, for me, for her, waiting for the ambulance to drive away so that I could follow, Chip touched my arm and said these very important words: "I was out there as a parent today."

So, here’s the note I just wrote.

Chip,

I so wanted to show my appreciation to you for what you did for my son, Alex. I am all too aware of what might have happened to my only son if you hadn’t reacted as you did. And the message you conveyed to me when I sat in my car, I heard it louder and clearer than any message I’ve ever heard spoken: "I was out there as a parent today."

The cliche I could never repay you comes to mind. And it is true. I could never. If I were a man of wealth spoken for by the dollar, much would you have. But I am only an ordinary man who tries to touch the world with his words. I knew the first time I met you that you were a good man, when you treated me like a human being, like you understood because we were both fathers. And Now, it is I who understand: the word good just isn’t good enough to describe the man who you are.

~ James