During the next year or so, business kept growing for Sony, my distributors, key accounts and myself.  We were all doing well.  A year or so went by and I received a phone call from Rahl.  He wanted to know if I would like to be transferred to the New York headquarters to work with our marketing department on some new product ideas.  I was surprised and honored by the idea, but I needed time to talk to Georgia and decide if we should leave the wonderful lifestyle we had carved out for ourselves in the Seattle area.  The next day, I called Rahl and told him that if he was okay with it, we would like to stay in Seattle.  He understood and agreed.  A year or so went by and I had been communicating with my friend Ron Unkefer.

Because of our history and my experience, Ron came to me with an offer that, at the time, seemed impossible to turn down. He offered me the position of Vice President of Sales, a role that would relocate Georgia, the kids, and me back to San Francisco. It looked like a fabulous, career-defining opportunity to build something massive with a friend I had mentored.

After a lot of thought, we made the heavy decision to leave Sony and take the job. Working with Ron again was wonderful. Together, we successfully drove the business forward and grew even closer as friends for many months.

A Sudden Shock: The Lightning Bolt and the Miracle

And then, out of nowhere, absolute disaster struck. It was a beautiful day, and I was out mowing the lawn at our Bel Marin Keys home in Novato. Suddenly—wham!—something hit my right testicle like a bolt of lightning. The pain was so agonizing and immediate that I collapsed right there on the lawn. My son, Scott, saw me hit the grass and ran into the house to get Georgia.

Georgia rushed out, took one look at me, and immediately called our dear friend and doctor, Tom Gant. The Gants were wonderful friends, and were coming for dinner later that day.  By pure luck, Tom was home and came right over to the house. He assessed my condition, jumped on the phone, and told the hospital he was bringing me straight in for emergency evaluation. My right testicle had literally exploded. I was admitted, and went through several tests.  After a few days, they told us I had cancer and it had already spread to my lungs, because the lymph nodes around my lungs had tripled.  They said I only had a few months to live.  They took biopsies of the lymph nodes and said we could go home for the weekend, but come back on Monday.  When we came back they told us they were sure it was cancer, but so far they could not come up with a malignant cell, but we're sure they would.  

After a few days, they said they sent the samples off to Scripps in San Diego, and they would be able to find a malignant cell.  We waited on pins and needles.  

The Dr. came in and said we have good news and bad news.  The good news is you do not have cancer.  The bad news is you have sarcoidosis.  We were thrilled!  They said don't be too happy, because there is not a cure for sarcoidosis!  Georgia went to the hospital library and read everything she could on sarcoidosis.  At that time, all that was known was it was an autoimmune disease.  One common denominator was that it was present in Atlanta, Sweden, and the Bay Area in Ca.  They suspected pine needle pollen dust was the cause for susceptible people.  It could hit any body part, but if it hit your heart or brain, it could be fatal.  Luckily, it only hit my testicle and my lymph nodes.  There was no medicine for it.  Georgia put me on heavy duty vitamins and bee pollen.  

We had to leave the area, and go back to the Pacific Northwest, where there are fir trees, and very few pine trees.

In LaLa Land

Following the surgery, the heavy hospital drugs kept me entirely out of pain and somewhat numb to the reality of what was happening around me. I was floating in a total "LaLa land." I vaguely remember looking up from my hospital bed and seeing my brother Ernie—who had flown all the way in from Florida—and Georgia both crying uncontrollably. In my medicated haze, I didn't grasp the gravity of the situation; I just calmly thought, Well, I guess this is how I go into the unknown. Oh well.

A day or so went by before I finally wandered out of LaLa land and learned the real reason behind their tears. While I was under, the doctor had pulled Georgia aside and delivered a crushing blow: he told her I had advanced cancer and only had a few months to live. Whammo! But then, the story took a bizarre turn. The hospital pathologists couldn't actually find any definitive cancer cells in the tissue. Desperate for answers, they rushed the samples down to the renowned Scripps Research Labs in San Diego for a specialized analysis.

When the report finally came back, it delivered a miracle. It wasn't cancer at all. I had been hit by an incredibly rare manifestation of a disease called Sarcoidosis. The spectacular, life-saving news was clear: it wasn't a death sentence, and I was going to live.

A few months went by in this state of reflection. Georgia and the kids deeply missed our life back in Washington, but true to their nature, they were fiercely supportive of me and willing to do whatever it took to keep me happy in San Francisco. Before long, Georgia and I sat down, had a heart-to-heart, and made the definitive decision to head back to Seattle.

One afternoon, I asked Ron to join me for lunch. I think deep down he already knew what was coming. I looked at my friend and told him honestly that the Sarcoidosis event had completely forced me to rethink my life and our future. I gave him my two weeks' notice. He accepted it with absolute grace, offering to help our family in any way he possibly could as we packed up for the Pacific Northwest.

However, looking back through the lens of time, if anyone were to ask me today what my biggest mistake in life ever was, it was that exact decision to leave Sony. The Betamax shock had shaken things up, but Sony was—and still is—a truly wonderful company. It was a world-class organization filled with incredible people, and it would have been my absolute honor to have stayed with them all the way through to my retirement.