It was years before I realized my father was a criminal.
I am sometimes tempted to argue this point, but everybody already has an opinion. Once the tabloids got hold of a story, it didn’t matter if what they said was true or not. When a mob smells blood, that’s all the bastards can think about. Trying to fight it is like trying to keep out the tide with a push broom.
We come up here from Ohio in 1971. I was twelve. Pop swung by the school and pulled me out of Mr. Elfbrandt’s third-hour history. We got into his Jimmy and headed north.
I made a game keeping my mouth shut, seeing which of us caved first. I didn’t ask, he didn’t volunteer. We drove in total silence across two-thirds of the continental United States and a big chunk of Canada.
Looking back now, I can see how much he appreciated it.