My dad didn't get along with a lot of people, especially my mom. They fought all the time, bickering until one of them would flare up and storm off. Usually it was him. There are a collection of family vacation photos of just me, my sister and my mom. Dad would be somewhere else cooling off and we'd have strangers take a picture of the three of us. There we are at Disney World. There we are at Six Flags and there's our summer in New Mexico. Dad's nowhere to be found.

My parents had the kind of fights that weren't acceptable to the nice older couple who lived next door. So, sometimes the police would show up. The police always did a good job of making sure everyone was OK. I still have a soft spot for cops; I remember that scared little kid with tears in his eyes and the nice man telling him everything was going to be all right.

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