I found my grown son on a damp Chicago park bench beside three suitcases and my sleeping grandson— and in one breath he told me his wife had thrown him out, her father had fired him, and they were about to erase him like he never belonged.
I saw my son on a bench in the park, sitting there with his baby beside a pile of suitcases. I asked, “Why are you here and not at the office of my company—the one I entrusted to you?” He lowered his head. “I was fired. My father-in-law said our blood doesn’t match…
