The autobiography wasn't his idea; it was his kids'. My doc friend and his wife split several years ago, when his children were young adults. He had his medical career, his wife was working on her PhD and the marriage fell apart. After the split, his two daughters wanted to make sure he stayed in their lives, and he did, even after his ex remarried. Over the years, the relationship with his girls has grown stronger.

Then, a year ago, my pal had a heart attack, and it was about then that his daughters asked him to write his autobiography. It was almost as if his girls wanted to have a piece of him to carry around with them after he kicked the bucket.

He started writing, and it's been a journey of wonderment as he has recalled things that he had all but forgotten about himself, his parents, and his three brothers and two sisters. He has remembered happy times with his grandfather and the not-so-joyful moment when 11-year-old Johnny Leteir bloodied his eye shut with one punch.

And he has relived the time when he was 12 and his mother died, and the future doc decided to run away from home. He hopped a freight at the 63rd Street yard but had only gotten as far as the town of Joliet when the railroad cops caught him.

His older brother drove from the old neighborhood to pick him up in Joliet. They drove back to the old neighborhood with nary a word said.

My friend never ran away again. He played on our high school's city championship basketball team, got a college scholarship and worked his way through medical school.

There's something to this business of writing your autobiography, because you've a story to tell. It's a great gift to yourself and your loved ones.

When Frank isn't writing his own fictional autobiography, he can be reached at fburge@cmp.com.