I’m not a child of divorce. At least, not yet. I never thought I would be, until last Saturday when my father called me at work — while I prepped for a 250-person event later that day. Thanks for the inconvenience, dad. “Hey Pa,” I answered, affectionately. “What’s up?” I asked, naively. *** My parents have been married for 32 years. I won’t say its been a strong marriage, because on many occasions it hasn’t been. They separated briefly many years ago, when I was five or six — it hardly matters. I remember very little of that month-long split,…
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