One of the things about coming from a less than traditional family is that, inspired by network television shows, I got to invent my own imaginary "family'. I lived on the Ponderosa with Ben and the Cartwrights; Mayberry with Andy Griffith, and New York City with the Ricardos. I used to imagine that Ben or Andy or Ricky was my dad, and that I was part of one of their "perfect" TV families. The glaring differences between these 'ideals' and my Foldinthemap reality were lost on me..Later, as I learned more and more about this mysterious man who gave me life, I was more able to create a picture of who this stranger was and what the gifts were he gave me. I was told he was an artist, famous in some circles; a wanderer with a penchant for seeing the world;
a creative force who could never control his bad habits: a "bad boy' who would never settle down; and an immature scoundrel undeserving and incapable of any love or affection-especially to a lost and lonely uncomprehending daughter. He was all of these and he was none of these. On this day, it's traditional to honor and remember the man who gave us life. In my case, I know life was all he was capable to give.
a creative force who could never control his bad habits: a "bad boy' who would never settle down; and an immature scoundrel undeserving and incapable of any love or affection-especially to a lost and lonely uncomprehending daughter. He was all of these and he was none of these. On this day, it's traditional to honor and remember the man who gave us life. In my case, I know life was all he was capable to give.
