At the age of 10, after my parents split, I chose to live with my father. It was the mid-80’s and we moved into a full-service building that had doormen. This was good because my father worked, and I spent a number of hours home alone with the condo staff to keep an eye on me. It was a safe environment. Lest you worry I was hurt in any way, I was not.
I was just emerging from a fraught and unamicable divorce in which I was privy to adult … Read More