December 12, 1984, |
Richard and Viola dropped their son
off at the Greyhound station in Evansville. The wind and rain blew my hair into a pseudo bouffant. I stopped when I saw a Delorean stainless steel sports car just sitting in a parking lot. I'd never seen one before. My Dad shot a picture of me standing next to it. It broke the mood a little bit. It was
clear Mom and Dad were very shaken. My Dad, whom
I only saw cry once in his life, put his
hands on mine, trying in vain to control
his emotions and in a trembling voice, said,
"God Bless you" and then walked away.
I've never forgotten that moment.
He blamed himself for my leaving home, but
it was my way of finding who I was. I wanted
to remember them as I last saw them before I
gave my life to the military.