When I was four years old my parents went through a torturous divorce. My father had been using all manner of drugs and was an acute alcoholic. The relationship had been abusive, often to the point of serious violence, and finally my mother had no choice but to flee with me. Eventually my father sobered up and retreated back home to a remote area of the Appalachian Mountains in Kentucky. Sadly, he is now so sick and delusional that he thinks nothing is wrong with him, that all the world’s evil and malice lie outside of him. He is a bitter and eccentric recluse.