Why is it that parents, kids and ego seem to be such an unhealthy combination?
In a few days, I'll mark the fifth anniversary of the afternoon I watched my husband walk out of our family life. This time, he wouldn't return to it. The kids were 10, 8, 5 and 3.
My sister was the first of us five kids to graduate from college. It was the 1970s, and I was in attendance. While my father was shooting pictures he was doing so -- it was later discovered -- without film. The only pictures salvaged from that day were a few photos I snapped on my crummy camera. (The kind with the replaceable flash cube that sat on the top; remember those?)














