Cause & Effect

I don't know what drives a person to be a Michael Moore or young Howard Stern-someone who constantly throws himself into controversy to make change, to go down in history, to serve those who can't help themselves, because you truly believe in something, self sabotage, for money, or to get attention. Maybe all of the above.

Howard Stern once said he threw himself into controversial arenas early on simply because he craved attention. But from what I'm told and can gather from photos and awards, my father at one time was having a perfectly good career as a radio personality in the early 1960s. The more controversial he became, the harder money was to come by. So I can't believe it was for the money.

A reporter who'd had dealings with my father in his later years once told me an amusing anecdote about my father being quite enamored with his newfound Waterpik. That little story not only made me smile but brought to light a substantial memory for me.

I remember my dad getting that Waterpik and how important it was to him. He'd found out he was suffering from gum disease, which ultimately led to having his teeth pulled-something that devastated him. I still have photos he had my brother or mother take of him before his teeth were pulled and after, with his new false teeth. He even posed with a hockey stick, making a joke of it.

He was very attached to and proud of his teeth. Though he had a gap, he bragged that they were healthy and cavity-free. He actually brought the teeth home afterthey were pulled and kept them in a pill bottle. I'd often run across them as a child and be grossed out.

But that reporter's memory spoke to what a simple man my father could be. Even with his dark side, there was a side that wasn't so complex- almost childlike. His pride in that Waterpik, his devastation over losing his teeth, his habit of using his toothless mouth for comic relief.

NEVER SAY NEVER

I had been working for almost a year doing nails and makeup. I'd been excited about the prospect of my parents, especially my dad, meeting my boss Cookie for the first time.

I was up all night listening to my parents fight. For a week or so before, they'd been fighting a lot. My steady boyfriend had asked me if we kept a gun in the house. He was concerned that something would happen. I told him they'd been fighting like this for years and that something as horrific as that would never happen.

Well, never say never.

I was sixteen when it happened. I saw my father shot and killed by my mother. I took a bullet in my leg.

[NEED TO COMPLETE SHOOTING NIGHT DETAILS HERE]

In the aftermath, my mother disappeared into bars while awaiting trial- that's where she'd meet Clint, a married man with a fictitious name. I'll tell you more about that relationship and its impact on my mother later. My brother retreated to the basement. And somehow, I became the one in charge of the home.

No one checked on me. No therapist. No social worker. Just the memory of sitting in a wheelchair at the funeral, watching my father get lowered into the ground. My mother got a court-appointed attorney and a court-appointed psychiatrist. All I received was prep for testimony.

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY 

One year later, on the anniversary of his death, someone called the police and reported gunshots coming from our boarded-up house. I climbed on a chair to peek through the tiny open patch of window and saw police creeping along the house with guns drawn. That kind of cruelty sticks with you. It perfectly summed up the quality of people in that neighborhood- the deliberate infliction of pain on the anniversary of the most traumatic day of my life.

The gun that killed him- ironically, it was purchased to protect us from the bad kids and their parents in the neighborhood that had tormented our family for years.