My father was a writer. He wrote all of his life, inflicting upon many of us his novels, plays, articles, essays, and self-help books. Some were marvelous; some merely well-intentioned. But of all the things he wrote, his journal is his legacy: by turns wise and bewildering, it neared 1,100 type-written pages when he died in 2010. Although perused many times, this is the first time it will be read - cover to cover, page after page.
People are not things. They are flesh and feeling. They are very, very real and can be hurt. Be careful. You are not playing with statistics or case histories. This is life and it is your responsibility. It is sacred. Do not play games with it.
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