Leaving boyhood behind

I’ve always known I’m screwed up. I've assumed it was because I was picked on by my peers. Couldn’t throw a ball, things like that. Other times I thought that maybe I just have some sort of personality disorder. A factory defect, like a superfluous hole in your Mr. Potato Head. The hole-punch guy sneezed at a crucial moment or something like that.

Then I started writing a memoir about my boyhood. Now it’s clear: The problem was/is my dad. He’s the reason I act like . . . him. I know. It’s obvious, isn’t it? I don’t know why I never saw it before.

Anyway, this blog is where I talk about those stories and what I'm learning from them—and my plans to change.

Have you laughed yet—or at least smiled?

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