The Father of My Father

For the first time, as an author, I have gone to great lengths to write about my father. At first, I didn't know how to do it. I wasn't sure I could accurately portray the father I remember. After all, I haven't known my father for even thirty years. Of the more than twenty years I've lived through, I still like winter best: that winter when a heavy snowfall came down overnight. I'm grateful for that snowfall, because it brought me to my father's side. From then on, I had a name connected to my father...