My daddy and I were entertainers from the time I was four years old. I dressed in a Roaring 20’s costume, shaking my booty, twirling beads, and pretending to chew gum. Daddy would look at me and say, “Hey Little Lady, you left your motor running.” I’d look up and smile, “That’s not my motor, that’s my chassis.” Everyone would laugh. Many years later, I learned what a chassis was. Then, we would sing and harmonize together. Daddy would sing Nancy With The Laughing Face to me. I would end the show singing Daddy’s Little Girl to him. I changed the lyrics using “I” instead of you: “I’m the end of your rainbow, your pot of gold, I’m your little girl, to have and to hold.” And so on.

When I was in my twenties, I produced an industrial film on alcoholism for my dad. It was my first understanding that he had a disease. When it was in rough cut, the editor wanted to call it Andy’s Story. I said, “No, it has to be called, We Don’t Want To Lose You.” I won the fight. 

I took the rough cut home to Columbus, Ohio, and went directly to Riverside Hospital where my daddy was dying. We watched the film together, I held his hand, and when it ended, the title came up and stopped. I looked into his blue, blue eyes and said, “Daddy, I don’t want to lose you.” It was the only time we ever talked about alcoholism. We never spoke of it again.

At the film premiere at the Detroit Press Club, General Motors bought 300 copies and this was the beginning of their Employee Assistance Program.