My father loved the 4th of July. He became a citizen in 1993 and from then on, we had a small American flag planted on the edge of a wooden fence near the shrubbery in front of my childhood home. That sun-faded flag somehow lasted through a quarter century of terrible weather 1/

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We did it…we hit the quadfecta of bias! Don’t ever change, you guys. Sports are pretty great. So is the job. Love you all. Really, I do.

It helps to recognize that. Because maybe I can start to enjoy the spoils of a life once driven by anger and resentment. Maybe plant my own flag in one place long enough to where it has the chance to wear many years of rain and snow and fade with the light of the sun. /fin

But I was just always hoping that the six of us would be in a room together one more time. July 4, 2001 was the final time it happened. 28/

Everything is fine. I'm good. Good things happen. I have good all throughout my life, including my family. But this time of year is a symbol of something. The chase for stability, for independence, for life and liberty and happiness. It will never be complete, and that's ok 27/

The 4th of July is bittersweet and melancholy. A reminder of the simplest and perhaps most complete time of my life mixed with a fading memory of the very last moment we were a family, whole and together. The dissolution of that began 23 years ago today. 26/

My dad died in 2018. That summer, I walked by that same wooden fence near the shrubbery that summer and took the frayed, worn, sun-faded American flag off of it. That 4th of July, I called a hot-dog eating contest on television. That was my version of a small American flag. 25/

When they got divorced, I wrote her into my will. Recently, I bought my first home. And I bought a new car for the first time in 14 years. I'm giving my old car to her now 16-year-old son. My nephew. All of these are grasps at trying to create a new story of stability 24/

I left for college the next year. He got his life back on track thanks to his best friend/eventual wife. The night he got arrested, she came over to check on us. My mom rejected her and sent her away. She gave me a hug and said "I'll keep in touch." She always did. 23/

I took him down Lake Street, the main drag in Addison. "Man, things are different now!" he exclaimed from the passenger seat of my Datsun as he smoked a Newport. I just thought, "man, if you only fucking knew." Newport was my cigarette, too. But I didn't want him to know that 22/

My brother came back in July of 2004. I came home from summer volleyball and there he was, laughing and crying next to my doting mother, on the same couch I associated with silence. He had once promised to teach me to drive. That night, he asked me to drive him around town. 21/

During those three years, my mom and dad got back to fighting. With each other and with me. They decided I needed protection and I decided I wasn't a kid anymore. I was on drugs often. I was angry all the time. I grew to love competing because it gave me an excuse to be angry 20/

My brother was typically dashing and well-dressed. The next time I saw him was in a bright orange jumpsuit at court and then I didn't see him for three years. He was sent to Federal. I still have letters from a White Deer, PA P.O. Box from him. "I have plans for you!" he said 19/

I was three sentences in to translating before she just broke down sobbing. If I had to attach a cliche to the moment, I think that's when my personal concept of "childhood" dissolved. Two brothers in jail, one out of the country and oblivious to what had transpired, and me. 18/

As an officer explained the situation to my dad, he just became stone-faced and unresponsive. So the officer turned to my mother. The language barrier was too much. So he looked to me and said, "You're going to have to explain to them what happened." I hadn't spoken in hours. 17/

I can only imagine their thoughts when they couldn't pull into their own driveway because there were police cars filling it. I think an officer spoke to my dad outside because they didn't speak to me as they sat down next to me. I wanted to hug them but I was afraid to move. 16/

They escorted him to a car and took him to County. So there I was, 14 years old, in a once-spotless and now ruined home. Me and a dozen officers, waiting for my religious immigrant parents to return from their trip to Devon so that I could translate to them what had happened 15/

Finally an officer picked me up, removed the cuffs and sat me on the couch. They sat my remaining brother next to me. After all the demands for a warrant, my short-fused brother got into a shouting match with an officer and then shoved him. He was immediately arrested. 14/