In that moment, so many memories flashed before my eyes. I remembered the bells we heard together as we watched the trains pass through Letchworth State Park. I remembered the hourly chapel bells we waited for during our many visits to my college campus in Pittsburgh. But most of all, I remembered the bells from my dad’s all-time favorite Christmas movie, one we revisit every December like clockwork, “The Polar Express.”

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So when he decided to step away from his TV career in 2023 after 36 years, he insisted on calling it a “reinvention.” He wasn’t wrong.

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It wasn’t always this way.

In June of 2016, my dad made the decision to leave his lifelong dream of covering sports behind to free up some time to pursue his new passion— nature and photography. He traded 12-hour workdays for a new role at Channel 8 anchoring the 4 o’clock news (eventually alongside my sister, Natalie), giving him the ability to pivot his focus to his Facebook page where he has built a community of 749,000 followers and counting from all over the world.

For as long as I could remember, my dad spent the majority of his Sundays traveling all over the country to cover the Buffalo Bills. I loved to cheer him on and was completely in awe of his work ethic. Watching him live out his childhood dreams ignited the same fire in me. But this change meant that finally, I would get to spend Sundays with my dad again.

So, that’s what I did. We watched football games together for the first time in my life. He taught me so much about the game and the inner-workings of the league. We competed with each other on weekly picks. My dad’s influence, especially during this time of my life, ultimately inspired me to pursue my own path in sports as I would eventually go on to work game days for the Pittsburgh Steelers PR team—the highlight of my college experience. But most importantly, I was spending more quality time with my dad than ever before. Sundays became special.

For the first time since I left for college in Pittsburgh in 2019 and started a career in Manhattan in 2023, I find myself spending Sundays with my dad again. I’m feeling more connected to my dad than I ever have. I don’t know how many Sundays we have left together, but at long last, I’m learning to be present and savor every moment. Each Sunday is suddenly the most precious gift I’ve ever received.

This first conversation took place the day before my dad started treatment for brain cancer. It’s heavy, but it’s also filled with hope. Two things can be true.

Thank you so much for following along. It means so much that you’ve decided to spend your Sunday with us.

^{Video with excerpts from our conversation is included at the bottom of this page.}

1. Tell me about your week.

The last week I had was fairly uneventful until the end of the week. I get up every morning very early. I still get up very, very early often before 5 in the morning, which I pretty much did all week this past week. I come down here where I’m sitting right now. I’ll write posts for that day, maybe even the next day, and at about 6 or so, I will go out and get a quick walk in. I can’t do the gorge walks that I normally would do in the early morning hours. I can’t drive obviously, and so I would get out and walk about two or three miles just to keep my legs going. I had a couple appointments with the doctors ahead of radiation and chemo, and then what would end the week on Friday evening was when it was fairly evident from the consensus with the doctors that the aggressive tumor that I had with cancer was just that. Aggressive. I knew that going in kind of hoping that it wasn’t, but when they call you at about 5:15 in the evening on a Friday and explain to you the magnitude of it and that you’ve got to attack this now with the radiation and chemo pretty much every day for six weeks, I knew that was coming. But when they say the term, “This may be the time to get your affairs in order financially,” which I’ve done since I was quite frankly a kid, you don’t want to hear that term. It’s plain speech, which I like and I really wasn’t surprised about anything. I then said that I’m tough, that I’m determined, that I’m passionate, and I may be that 4% person or 5% person that defies the odds. That’s kind of what I do generally anyway. I certainly did it with the crash of my car on the 26th and this may be another layer of that.

2. What brought you joy this week?

First, I’m up every day early as I said and I listen to the birds when I’m going out and walking my steps. The cardinals are everywhere. Seemingly, I’m seeing cardinals around my house more than ever, so I enjoy that. I enjoy my daughters smiling as well as my wife, Charla. These have not been great days, especially you and quite frankly, everyone, but if I do something stupid to make you smile, that’s joyous for me. You shared a lot of your great photos that came from the wedding. That certainly brought joy to all of us. You know, your ability to hammer me even to this day brought me joy. Even though it sometimes annoys me, it did bring me joy. When you kept telling me about the photographers and the importance of them to you, I realize that now more than ever. You and I were going at it pretty good about the expenses of the wedding and I was prepared for that, but I get that now. I kind of battled you a little bit on it, but I’m glad we got them. It was the greatest moment of our lives… for a lot of us. Everything was perfect. In hindsight now with the situation I’m in, honestly I probably shouldn’t have even been alive for that. I was blessed to be at that wedding. Everything since that May 30th was found money for me. That’s just it. I really should not have survived that crash and that was given to me. I was at the wedding in the barn venue seeing the glow of everybody in that place and when I’m seeing the faces of people together, it was very clear to me that I was given a gift and it was not lost of me that just a little bit of bad luck would’ve prevented me from being there in the present moment and that’s powerful. I kind of sensed that maybe things were coming down a rough road at that moment, but man. That was big. I knew the rough road was coming. I didn’t want to say it a whole lot to you guys, but that was a massive joy.

3. What was the most difficult moment for you this week?

I was sitting here. I had my phone on my desk and I had it on speaker and that’s when the head cancer doctor at Wilmot Cancer Institute called and confirmed that it’s an aggressive tumor. We’re gonna start chemo Sunday night right away followed by full on radiation, and you know, he was to the point as far as it was an aggressive cancer and he wanted to get moving. I just remember Charla looking over my shoulder and her eyes welled up and I did not like to see that. I wasn’t surprised at all, but she’s always been the beacon behind this spiritually. I’ve been tough about it too, but when I see her eyes looking like that, that was hard for me to see. But then I quickly pivoted to the next mode, which was, “I’m gonna beat the hell out of this thing,” and I’m going to. I’m going to beat the hell out of this as best I can. They’re not going to get me defeated. Yeah, you have moments of emotion with this, but I quickly got into the mindset. We are going to hit this thing hard like it’s never gotten hit before. I don’t like to lose in anything I do. I think you know that as much as anybody does. I don’t like to lose at anything ever and that’s the way I’m gonna push this until maybe I can’t, and then I will give in. I will not give in until the absolute, absolute end of this thing if it’s possible. I’m going to do everything I can.

4. What are you grateful for?

I’m grateful for my life. I’m grateful for the fact I had great parents who raised me in a great community south of Binghamton in a little rinky-dink town, but really in hindsight, it wasn't rinky-dink. It’s the greatest place in the world where we lived up in the country and around mountains and hills and valleys and barns and a babbling brook. Things that maybe back then we took for granted. Although we really didn’t because my brother and I, Kevin, did everything around there together because we were basically it along with our neighbors and we loved that existence and we still love it to this day. I’m thankful for my health up until now. I’m thankful I’m here. I may have a little hurdle with my health, but I’m thankful I’m speaking here. I’m thankful I can sit here because I do feel like I’m healthy. I’m thankful for my family. If something doesn't go well with this and I'm not going to make this possible, which could happen, I will know that my daughters are beautiful, my wife is wonderful of all time, and they will persevere. That’s a good feeling. As I’ve said to you and your husband, Max, knowing that a dad can lay down in peace whenever that day comes and know that peace of mind is a huge burden lifted off me in a grand way and Natalie too because she’s got a great guy too. That’s a huge thing. I know my wife is very spiritual and I know she’s gonna be taken care of. That I know because she’s the greatest person I know, so I’m thankful for that. I‘ve had the best life in the world. I know that. I’ve been blessed with that. I had the greatest job for 30 years in sports. I’ve had the greatest job in the last 10 years doing what I do and first and foremost, I have a wonderful family. We had passion in this house. The four of us… yes, at times, it was challenging, but at the end of the day we loved each other and we stood out for each other.

5. Tell me a story.

The first one that comes to my mind was when I interned for the New England Patriots. I was doing the unthinkable. I was at Oswego State and had the chance to get an internship that allowed me to get out of school a semester early in three and a half years to get a jump on my sportscasting career. I got out in December and here I am interning for the Patriots who I hated because I was a die-hard Miami Dolphins fan, so one thing that would come to mind was, “Why would you possibly work for a traitor? What were you doing?” But it was a great experience. It kind of paved the path for what I would go on to do down the road. I would be a cut day victim. I would literally have to knock on the doors of the players that were cut. I would get that list the night before, and then I would drive them to the airport the next morning. Usually at 5 in the morning, I’d knock on the door and say, “You need to bring your keys and playbook to the general manager’s office and meet me in an hour. I’m going to bring you to the airport because you’ve been released from the team.” It was not a pleasant experience. Probably the only college intern in NFL history making cuts on behalf of the team and that was a tall order for a scrawny kid from SUNY Oswego.

6. What do you want to leave us with this week?

I have a really good week ahead with chemo and radiation. I’m upbeat and feeling really good. Live your best possible life every single day. Don’t waste time doing nothing. Get out and live.

After a successful surgery and removal of the initial tumor, he has begun a rigorous treatment plan including six weeks of both chemotherapy and radiation. We have no idea what the road ahead will look like nor do we know how much time he has left. I guess that’s true of anything. But what I do know is that he’s ready to fight. Cancer works hard, but my dad works harder.

For as long as I can remember, my dad has found great joy in storytelling. So much so that he made a career out of it. Whether in front of the camera covering sports or behind the camera documenting his travels across Western New York and beyond, my dad has always had a unique way of finding the beauty in people and places while helping the rest of us see it too.

This passion for capturing moments extended into our home growing up. My dad chronicled every bit of our childhoods and when I say everything, I mean everything.

So, I have an idea. Beginning today, I am launching a weekly series where I will sit down with my dad each Sunday and ask him the same few questions. The routine will remain the same, but his answers will change. Some weeks may be easier than others. I will give my dad the complete freedom to answer the questions as authentically as possible, in his words and in his time.

My hope is to preserve his voice, his humor, his perspective, his honesty and the way he’s always looked at the world. It’s also an effort to tell his story and create a time capsule of what this phase of life looks, sounds and feels like for him and for those of us walking beside him. I hope this becomes something our family and friends will always treasure and if it helps someone else facing a diagnosis or caring for a loved one, that’s a gift too.

The weekly conversations will be available to paid subscribers. If you choose to subscribe, you’ll not only be following along my dad’s journey, but you’ll also be helping me create a lasting archive of his words while giving me the ability to devote my time to being fully present with my dad during this chapter of his life. I have so many other ideas for what this could become, but for now, my focus is on connecting with my dad one week at a time.

Thank you so much for reading and for the continuous outpouring of love and support. The volume of kind messages and well wishes is truly staggering. Whenever I had a moment of hopelessness throughout the last few weeks, I would just scroll through the endless messages of support and success stories and it would instantly restore my faith and optimism. The community my dad has built on Facebook is truly rare. The comments section of any social media post these days is not the most positive place to be, but his Facebook page is an anomaly. It’s a much-needed uplifting corner of the internet and an antidote to the pitfalls of spending time online in 2026. Hopefully, this will be too.

If you’d like to follow along, we would be honored to have you join us. Happy Sunday!

For the first time in a long time, I was planning to accompany my dad on his weekly trip to Letchworth State Park - his favorite place on this earth. The hot air balloons were taking flight that morning and he wanted to be there as early as humanly possible. After significant negotiation, he finally agreed to a 6 o’clock departure.

When my alarm went off that morning, I had a text from my dad that read, “It’s your lucky day! I’m already on the road. Balloons are launching at 7. Rest up!” I rolled my eyes, laughed to myself and went back to sleep. Typical dad move.

At 8:05, I got the phone call that changed everything. It was my dad.

The next eight minutes happened in slow motion. My dad couldn’t form sentences. I couldn’t make any sense of what he was saying. I could tell he was driving. I begged him to pull over. It quickly became clear that he was not in control. With each moment that passed, he became more frantic and distressed. My heart was breaking to hear the fear in his voice. He started to seize. The call disconnected.

There are no words to describe the panic I felt in that moment. My dad was having a seizure behind the wheel. He wasn’t answering my calls. He was alone. My wedding was in four days. All the worst case scenarios started playing in my head on a loop.

Immediately, I called my sister. She and Max (my now husband) worked together to track down his location and alert the police. Somehow, his car was still moving toward home. All I could do was pray.

By the time police located him on the road, he had been driving for an entire hour. He was just twenty minutes from home. The first miracle is that he made it this far. But the lights and sirens were not getting his attention. Several police cars were following him in hopes of slowing him down. It wasn’t working.

A few moments later, he lost control completely. His car went airborne off an overpass and crashed onto the road below on the drivers side…which leads me to the second miracle. In true John Kucko fashion, my dad walked himself to the ambulance with only a few cracked ribs and some bruising. His was the only car involved.

What came next is something we never saw coming.

Later that day, we received news that the doctors found a tumor in my dad’s brain. My heart sank. How could this be happening? What does this mean? Will he make it to my wedding?

The third miracle and perhaps the biggest of all: he did.

From the moment my dad woke up in the hospital that night, he was adamant (in his words) that this wedding was going to proceed, that he would make it there and that it would be spectacular. He was right. He’s always right.

My dad was cleared to go home just two days before my wedding. He got to be there as if none of this was happening.

Our wedding day was the most profoundly surreal day of my life thus far. It had my dad’s name written all over it. He documented the barn’s renovation in its early stages and was insistent that it would be the right place for this moment. The sun was out all day. Our middle school teacher officiated the ceremony… Max and I met in her classroom. All of our guests gave a standing ovation as my dad walked me down the aisle. Our closest friends and family rallied around us like the world was ending. There wasn’t a dry eye or a dull moment on the dance floor. I’ve never felt so much love and emotion in one room. Everything was perfect. I wanted it to last forever.

I caught my dad’s eye across the room a few times throughout the night and he just kept nodding and smiling. He did it. The day he worked tirelessly to bring to life unfolded more beautifully than any of us could’ve planned for or imagined. And after everything that happened that week, he was there to see it.

For our father daughter dance, I chose one of my dad’s favorite songs: “Sunshine On My Shoulders” by John Denver. When I look back on my wedding day and the role my dad played in it, there’s one lyric that stands out among the rest:

“If I had a day that I could give you, I’d give to you a day just like today.”

Dad, thank you from the bottom of my heart. This is for you.