by Mike Shea on 7 March 2003
I've had what can only be summarized as one of the most surreal moments of my adult life. While writing up my biography I ran across a fellow who is selling three audio tapes of my father, Robert Shea, in interviews and Q&A about writing, philosophy, life in the 60s, and life in general.
My father died of colon cancer in 1994, the same year as the last tape was produced. I haven't heard his voice in nine years, he died on March 10th 1994, three days from now nine years ago.
I was 20 at the time and although he is the largest driving force in my life, there are a million questions or conversations I wanted to have with him now that I've grown up a little bit. These three tapes are as close as I can ever come.
It is like having a ghost in my tape player.
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