My father was just as dumb and stubborn as I am. If I didn’t do what he told me to do, he took off his belt and hit me with it until I did what he told me to do.” “Did that method work?” the psychiatrist asked. “Oh, sure,” Dad said. “In the short run. I did what he told me to do. But I learned to hate the son of a bitch. I’ve forgiven him now, I guess, because he was just doing what he knew, probably just what had been done to him. But it cost us a relationship. I still can’t talk to him. I just can’t imagine talking to him about anything that matters. So we have really stilted conversations
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