The next morning I got up and headed towards the kitchen to find my Dad sitting, reading the paper over a cup of coffee.“Morning Dad. Did you and Mo... have a good night?” I asked“Oh yea!” answered Dad in a somewhat sarcastic manner.“Why, what's up?” I asked.“Oh, your Mom picked up a few new bedroom items last night, if you know what I mean, in an attempt to light a fire under me" he explained“And?” I inquired.“Well, like I told you, I'm not exactly driven.” he replied.“Uh oh!” I. I had met Cathy on the week before Valentine’s Day, 1975. For the day itself, I made Cathy a card with crude artwork and lame poetry, and I signed it with an explanation that I wasn’t prepared to shell out thirty five cents for a card unless I was positive the relationship would last. By the end of March we had moved in together. We got an apartment in Troy, New York, an absolutely dismal one bedroom flat in a neighborhood that, if it had seen better days, was doing its best to disguise even. More

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