I’m enjoying this in a weird way. I guess it’s because no one I’ve ever told had a father like mine. I don’t think I ever told anyone until high school. My best friend in high school’s father was an alcoholic, but her experience was very different than yours and mine.

I love the way you describe your situation as if you are there now. It’s much more riveting than the way I write because I feel so removed from it all. I used to tell these stories to psychiatrists, and I remember smiling out of embarrassment while they had tears in their eyes.

I think my best writing is comedy. Read these two about my mother. She was a real character:

The photo is of my mom (right) when she was in an off Broadway show around 1939. She was always heavily into denial like yours.