Father

 
 

I NEEDED MY FATHER

African father helping son with homework

The first memory I have of my father is the day he picked me up from my home in Queens, NY, and whisked me off to Buffalo to visit with his family. All of them were strangers to me then. And now, 37 years later, many of them are still strangers. That visit with him was magical. Before that night, I was not even aware that I came from two people. I had no knowledge that I even HAD a father. But that night, I saw my first Atari 5200,Read More


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