I was five years old when my uncle drove me to the mental hospital. He was taking me to see my father who had suffered “a nervous breakdown.” Later I learned that he had become increasingly depressed because he couldn’t make a living supporting his family. Like me, he was a writer, and found it

I’m an angry male. O.K., I’ve said it. There is a lot to be angry about. Gun violence continues. Too many of our children live in poverty. Our environment is deteriorating. We are heating the planet beyond its capacity to support human life. Our country is divided. The political system is broken. Families are falling