“Dad seems sad…Can dads get sad?” I said to myself, bewildered as my four-year-old hand reached desperately for whatever scratch paper and pencil I could find. Like looking for a clean rag to put pressure on a bleeding wound, I needed to draw to ease the pain right...
My mom and dad married in 1967. Early on, it was clear (according to my mom) that dad was more interested in his music (big piano player) than he was in actually taking care of two little boys. My twin brother and I would be in our cribs, crying (needing to be...
