“Hey, kid!” the voice on the other end of the phone said. “How are you doing?” It's Dad. His timing is getting better. It's midnight my time and I'm wide awake. Good thing Dad lives out in California—it's only 9:00 pm there.
“I'm fine. How are you?”
“Can't complain. Hey, I've got a question for you,” he said. “What's your email address?”
WHAT?
The universe suddenly turned ninety degrees on me. Dad. My Dad. My Dad who hates computers and will have nothing to do with them, asking me for my email address.
Next thing you know, a coke head will be running for President.
Hey, wait a minute …