Fathers & Sons
August, 1982
My Father looked like Humphrey Bogart. He had about him, as did Bogart, a muted air of anger, a temper close to the surface, a thin line of steel behind the eyes that glinted when he was crossed. He was a rebellious man who sat on his wildness for the sake of his family, an alcoholic who never took a drink after I was born, a Willy Loman in a three-piece suit.My father and I did a few things together, but we were never that comfortable with each other. That fact hurt both of us. The distance bet...
