My family was always looking for belonging, for acceptance. We were always trying to get hold of a little piece of the American dream. A house, a nice shiny car, some money in the bank. Success, stability, not having to worry about where the next paycheck was coming from or how the bills were going to be paid. My parents always struggled to provide the basics but dreamed of something more. Fame, fortune, and our name in lights on a marquee: HARRIS in bright bulbs, the opening act. My dad, Ray Harris, was a singer. He had a beautiful voice.
