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From Brian Russell’s Meeting Dad
I slammed the bright red foam-covered bat against the column in the middle of the room and yelled, the blows punctuating my words. “Why wouldn’t he ever write?” WHUMP! “Or call?” WHUMP! “Doesn’t he...
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From Meeting Dad by Brian Russell
Within a few days, I’d made the decision. Though nervous, even a little scared, I decided the first step was to talk to Mom about it. My mother had recently enrolled in the University of Buffalo to...
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from Brian Russell’s Meeting Dad (Part 3)
Shaking her head slightly, she explained, “No, I didn’t get his number from the court, but I do have it.” “Oh.” “Some months ago your Uncle Ben told me that he’d read in a Cornell Alumni newsletter...
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from Meeting Dad by Brian Russell
About an hour later, Mom and Dad ushered me into Dad’s study. It was a cluttered room filled with floor-to-ceiling bookcases overflowing with books. Every surface in the room was covered in piles of...
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from Meeting Dad by Brian Russell
I held the small, blue piece of paper in my hand. In my mother’s instantly recognizable cursive, I read the name Bob Jaycox and his address in Puerto Rico. Puerto Rico? I thought. What an exotic...
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from Meeting Dad by Brian Russell
“Brian Russell,” the voice said. “Well I’ll be!” “This is your son,” I said. “Well, I surely know that! Hello son. What a pleasant surprise.” Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed my mother slip out...
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