After Tim Russert's book about his father, "Big Russ & Me," became a best-seller, he received letters from daughters and sons who wanted to tell him about their own fathers. This story comes from his new book, "Wisdom of Our Fathers: Lessons and Letters from Daughters and Sons." Russert wrote:

"A few years ago, I became the victim of a senseless, unprovoked act of violence that left several scars on my neck. I survived, and the assailant is in prison, but I will never really be the same. When I shave I see one of the scars, and, until recently, to see that scar was to trigger a visual memory of my assailant's rage-filled face.

The obvious solution was to stop shaving, but that didn't work. I began to remember the terrible event with increasing vividness, until I finally sought help.

My therapist's first question to me was, "Do you have a good relationship with your father?"

I said, "Yes. We have a great relationship."

The therapist asked if he had taught me how to shave. Before I could answer, a memory I had forgotten for many, many years popped into my head, and I smiled.

'Doctor,' I replied, 'this is so cool! I remember standing at my dad's side as a little boy, infatuated with the process of shaving. It got to the point that when he shaved in the mornings I was always there, watching him. My dad bought me a little toy razor, with a little knob on the bottom of the handle that opened the top, just like his. The blade was a piece of cardboard that looked like a razor blade.

'After that, I got to smear shaving cream all over my face and shave with my dad.'

My therapist then suggested that I think of this happier memory every time I shaved, to displace the memory of the attack.

And, indeed, the "new" memory has replaced the violent one. Now, when I shave, I feel the love my dad showed me, and I also remember what it felt like to be innocent. My shaving memory marked the start of a long journey best described as post-traumatic growth.

Precious memories are made in an instant and last forever. I am so thankful that my dad had the patience back then to let me "shave." That memory has strengthened an already strong relationship, and what made me happy then is making me a happier man today. Bless you, Dad."