“I was five years old when my uncle drove me to the mental hospital.” “Why do we have to go?” I asked. “Because your father needs you,” he said. “What’s the matter with him,” I wanted to know. Silence. In our family we didn’t talk about these things. This is the beginning of my book,
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
The “men’s movement” began for me on November 21, 1969, when I turned the wrong way when I left my wife. Let me explain. My wife and I were expecting our first child and I had been coaching her through 14 hours of Lamaze breathing exercises to help prepare for the birth. When it was
When I was five years old, my father had “a nervous breakdown” and was sent to the state mental hospital. Later, I learned that his breakdown was caused by the depression he felt when he couldn’t make a living supporting his family doing the work he loved. In his journal he detailed the feelings of
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
There is a saying that we teach what we want to learn. I suspect it may be equally true that we write about issues most important in our lives. I grew up as an only child in a single parent-family. My father was gone by the time I was five years old. My mother had
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