"All a salesman's got is a smile and a shoeshine...and when they stop smiling back-it's an earthquake!"
   I remember reading this line from Arthur Miller's landmark play: A Death of Salesman in high-school English and in an instant-as subtle as his wink and as profound as his character-I thought of my father. I thought of the hospital. And I thought of that night--a night that I will never forget.
   The earthquake truly came a while before then. Business was falling apart. My father was falling apart, and his health soon after.
   There was very little that distinguished that night from any other October evening in Connecticut. It was cold. The Braves were in the World Series. Kids were playing soccer too late. Worried mothers were calling them into their warm homes.
   But my father was sick and I was by his side. I shall always remember him that night most of all. I was by his side, because he was always by mine.
   I remembered him driving me to school. I remembered playing ball in the yard. I remembered him dancing with my mother on our wooden floors. I remembered him working--always working--leaving for the city at five and coming back at 11, only to go out and get my sister and I ice cream. I remembered his laugh and his smile.
   That is why I was there that night. That is why I shall always be there-to smile back, even if no one else is.