In this speech she gave at last week’s memorial service for the author, who died last year aged 73, his daughter pays tribute to ‘the cool guy who lived in my house’
Dad described himself as a “father emeritus”. This wouldn’t have been funny if it were completely true. In fact, far from absent, Dad was home all of the time. In high school, I described him to my friends as less a dad-type and more a cool guy who lived in my house.
Once, at the age of 14, I was caught by my mum smoking pot in my bedroom. She threw out my paraphernalia, took me around the block weeping, and cautioned me about the great history of addiction in our family. Later that night, or maybe even a few days later, Dad made his debut on the top floor of the house, the kids’ floor. He poked his head around my door and said: “You couldn’t have cracked open a window? You bloody fool.”
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