In the spring of 1993, I was in my last semester of Physical Therapy school
in San Antonio, Texas.
I spent nearly every waking hour studying, so my wife,
Kathy had to manage our household and provide most of the care for our son,
Ty, who was 2 years old.
Even though it was a stressful time, Kathy and I
made sure we carved out time to be together as a family.
Every day after dinner we would walk to the tennis courts in our apartment complex,
and Ty and I would toss a tennis ball back and...