Truth in Silence

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.

What Pegman Saw

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Don't just stand there.