Sunday, December 28, 2014
My dad is a brilliant man. I don’t know why I’m using this as an example of his brilliance, when just the sheer volume of research he’s published says it all, but when we bought home our first Rubik’s cube when I was a little kid, he sat down on his lounge chair, studied it intently for two hours, and figured out how to solve it. He even showed me all the combination moves he came up with (which I now realize are the exact same combos the Rubik’s pros use).
Being five years old, I never fully appreciated the magnitude of the accomplishment. I do now, though.
The sad irony of his brilliance is that…. Well, we all have to accept that getting old is inevitable. At some point, our bodies are going to fail us. Joints swell, bones crack, muscles stiffen. It’s just that, for my dad, his brain was always the one thing we thought would never fail — could never fail. My sister and I were joking that, shit, if he had had an accident and became a quadriplegic, he would not be affected one bit. He would figure out a way to get by, and he would continue to crank out his medical publications at the ridiculous rate he’s known for. And if that Rubik dude were still alive and coming up with new geometric puzzles, I’m sure he would have no problem solving them.
But it had to be his brain that is now possibly damaged forever.
Well, that just sucks….
Dennis Hong's Attic 
Praying that he is using all his brain power to work his brain back to full function. Sleep is healing but I don’t know all the details. Just keep hoping for the best. Thoughtful article. Thanks for sharing.
LikeLike
He sounds like an amazing guy! “Like father, like son.”
LikeLike
My condolences. It’s tough to watch out hero’s fade out of the personalities they once upheld but at the same time, the best thing you could do is carry his torch. Hold yourself to his rigorously tough standards and keep showing him each day how amazing of a son he raised. You’re a role model of mine. Best wishes!
LikeLike