Tagcoming of age

When I was a little kid, my father coming home from work was an event we looked forward to every day. We’d all follow him, Mom, my brother Michael, and me, into the bedroom and watch him take his clothes off. First he’d take off his shirt—he always wore a white undershirt that he never removed—then his pants. He wore white Jockey underwear. The long ones. I don’t think they were called boxer...