This is the flavor.

My dad left me when I was five.

My mom was a single mom, six kids, five boys and a girl.

She taught the second grade, and then she

would pack our dinners in a paper bag

in a country-squire station wagon, drive us around

Akron, Ohio, filling up turnstiles

at convenience stores with greeting cards

just so we could eat.

My dad left, and I thought he was my hero,

so one of the most difficult things

that I have to deal with is me remembering

telling my mom, why can't you be more like dad?

But meanwhile, my dad was a deadbeat 1970s dad,

married to a girl closer to my age than his,

spending all his money outside of his children.

And meanwhile, my mom was working two jobs,

giving her entire life everything to her six children,

to empower them for their future.

So at 30 years old, my dad came back into my life,

and he gave me a birthday present.

And what was significant about the birthday present

...