I’ve waited to write a memoir until my reasons to do so finally exceeded my reasons to refrain. Time had to pass. People had to pass. Others had to age enough to no longer care much what people think. I’ve worried about hurting people. I’ve wondered if the kinder thing to do for those who have known my family might be to leave them with better impressions. I lament that telling my story might imply more about the experiences of my family members than either they or I would wish. I’ve asked their permission and received their blessing and tried my best to leave the most vulnerable parts of
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