Adults have children. Their children become adults. Two short sentences. One shared life sentence.
My dad, Bill Teemley, was ambitious, hard-working, and deeply conservative. And I was a wildly liberal 23 year old who’d recently completed a “useless” Theatre Arts degree and moved back in with the folks. Somewhere along the line a Game of Thrones-sized ice wall had grown up between us. We barely spoke. Dad didn’t get me (I’m an only child, so everything is about me), and I sure didn’t get him. But did it matter? I figured he never even thought about me. Still, with multiple non-job offers flooding in, I had time on my hands.
So I asked Mom what I could do about The Wall.
“Why don’t you go with him to pick up newspapers?” she answered.
Dad’s job as a newspaper dealer included picking up papers from the plant at 3:30 a.m. Seven days a week. So naturally my response was,
“Is there something else I…
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