Monday, March 1, 2010   Sorry for all the emo, but tonight as I
came in the door from the evening commute, the Shooter Brother
called to tell me that my father has passed on. Seeing as FTT is
where I do the writing, and we're not going to get back to the
site's business before I get through this, here comes some
personal words. If you want to skip, I won't hold it against
you.  My relationship with my father is, for the most part, a
void. My mother and he split, and nothing about it was pretty.
He left behind my older brother and sister, and I was five. I
have no memories of him as a child, and the Shooter Mom didn't
discuss him. We lived on her earnings as a bartender, my
siblings didn't bring him up, and for the most part, it wasn't
an issue.  My uncles on my father's side were important players
in the Philadelphia music scene, which was how I spent my 20s.
So our paths finally crossed twenty years later. By odd
coincidence, my father worked with a woman who played bass in
the band, and we met for me to sel