WE SHOULD HAVE BEEN QUIET
In the summer of 1959, my father left his two sons on the side of a South Dakota road with only their comic books. They had been fighting and screaming in the back seat and despite repeated warnings they continued to be boys.
I remember the feeling of watching the car disappear over the hill and being really, really gone.
I remember how hard I cried.
I remember my mother not being thrilled with my father.
I remember how much I loved my parents when they came back and how
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