My father was a harsh man. He said very little, never gave compliments or praise but was always quick with a rebuke or a critique. He was of Japanese descent, you see and that is what he learned from his own parents. I grew up in fear of him, his scowling face and hand that was always so quick to reach out and slap my face for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. I lived in a world of silence because of that hand. His cultural heritage dictated his parenting style.
I wanted a very different father than the one I had.Read More