My Father Ordered Me to Strip Off My Uniform at His Cookout

the second part. Maybe because I was already the weird quiet kid who borrowed books from the library on Saturdays and copied maps onto notebook paper for fun.

On the drive home Dad didn’t say a word until we were halfway down Abercorn.

Then he said, “You need to stop talking like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re better than folks.”

I stared out the passenger continue reading …