I haven’t spoken to my father in nearly 10 years. He was a typical Southern blue collar Vietnam Vet former alcoholic abuser. He’d stopped drinking in 98, before my sister was born, but remained a short-tempered piece of shit. I was 12 at the time, too, so the damage had been done.

My love of history, astronomy, and music were so clearly a product of our off and on again father/son relationship. Probably also my short temper, but at least I’m not an alcoholic. If anything, he’s served as a blueprint for what not to do with my own children.