NOW YOU TELL ME ABOUT SEATBELTS

It was 1988. I was nine years old and visiting my father in Scottsdale, Arizona for the Fourth of July weekend. My half-brother, Brad was also in town for the holiday. He was sixteen and lived full-time with his mom in Brooklyn.

My sister, Samantha and I were not supposed to have our visitations overlap with Brad’s. “It was in the divorce papers.” my mom later claimed. But my dad did what he wanted back then. He still does.