Where has he been, where is he now, and why isn't he here, here for me to play catch with, to go fishing with? Why does everybody think so much of him and I don't even know him enough to have my own opinion of him? All that I know of the man is that I love him, I don't know exactly why, I guess it's just an "implied" feeling that a son has for his father.
             I guess it all started when I was four or five, when he bought a branch of a business and we were forced to move to Nebraska. He moved up there about eight months before mom and I did, while he was there he oversaw the building of our new home and started up business, and he came home to see us when he had the time. Once mom and I moved in, he started the whole traveling bit and he would often be gone anywhere from two to three weeks at a time and when he was home he would usually be at the office catching up on back paper work.
             As time went by, his buying accounts and the territory that he traveled increased, and what little time that I did get to spend with him dwindled more. As I started to get older and developed my own interests and hobbies, like bikes, roller blades, and engines. I became very used to living my life alone. Mom was there for me when I needed her but I kind of liked being alone and she was busy enough between work and my infant sister without me bothering her. I learned to do most everything by myself. All of my knowledge was self-taught by trial and error, everything from riding a bike to catching a baseball.
             By the second grade I was not a stranger to trouble. A lot of the trouble I got in to was for the attention that I received from it, if I wasn't yelling at the teacher I was tearing everything up or fighting with the kids out on the playground. I kept getting into more and more trouble, then I put my mom over the edge and she took me to see my first psychologist. From that point on the "shri...