I've been reading Street Saints by Barbara J. Elliott; there's a story about a man who was shooting up heroin in a gas station washroom while his baby daughter lay on the floor tangled in toilet paper. He'd taken the girl on holdups; on his first date with her mother, they'd knocked over a convenience store together. Now, it occurred to him to wonder if maybe he wasn't quite father of the year material . . . Anyway, he's turned his life around and had a lot of success helping other addicts quit.
Guys like this, though -- "professional, successful on the surface, with a good job, a steady relationship, a mortgage, nice holidays, lots of friends" can go their whole lives thinking they are father of the year. There may never be a turnaround for them; their kids will have to do it instead -- if they realize they have to.
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