Analyzing Dad

July 24, 1968
by Amy

I'm not going to call my Dad. There's no point in it.

He's like me, especially in how he thinks he's right all the time. I know I have a tendency to do the same thing. When we're at opposite ends of the stick, it's terrible. Our fights are brutal. He yells; I slam doors. Mom says it's because we're too alike.

(Honestly, I'm glad I'm like him rather than her. She doesn't stand for anything, doesn't give a whit about anything and would prefer to think about colors and dresses than something meaningful. Sure, she's happy, but that's only because she doesn't know any better.)

Lesley is floating the conspiracy angle: Someone got to him and threatened his job or maybe even me. The more I think about it, the less I believe that to be the case. First of all, he would never back down. If anything, threats make him dig his heels in deeper. I also know that he couldn't write anything he didn't believe in.

Sure, I'd love to think that thinks I'm right. That he sees how we have to make our presence felt at the Convention. We have to stand up for what we believe in; for what we know is right. But he doesn't feel that way.

Lesley says that she would like to know what changed his mind. Because something obviously did. Why did he change his mind?