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Sun Jul 18 2021 at 21:53:34
My father died in 1951. I was six years old. We buried him in the
San Joaquin Valley National Cemetery in February of 2007. Freud said
that no one could be a man until his father had died. Jung said “yes,
but that death could take place symbolically,” but that is another
story.
A year or two
latter I told my first lie. To be clear, it was early in 1953. There
was a quart bottle of root beer in the refrigerator. Someone had
pried off the lid, drank a bit, then put the lid back on thinking no
one would notice. There were three suspects. The other two were my

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