To this day, as I fall asleep, I will sometimes start, hearing in my mind the harsh call of my name, feeling the quick thrill of terror rush through my body, now close to forty years later. I remember the crash of the door swinging open, jarring me from sleep, and my father, silhouetted against the hall light, panting, his face flushed with rage, pulling me out of bed by the hair (“Oww, Dad. DAD!”), and dragging me off with no words, too disgusted for words, to the offending messy towel or capless toothpaste. “How many TIMES must I tell you?” my father would shake his head sorrowfully,
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