They’d been supportive of the idea, even paying for my airline ticket. Mom was always after me to send pictures, and Dad joked about sending her out...to stay with me. Instead of the usual pleasantries and a discussion of baseball standings with Dad, they had something to say and it floored me. Someone had made an offer on the house in Ithaca. The house that I lived in. That I’d grown up in. The house that I’d always considered mine. ‘I hate to push you, son,’ Dad told me. ‘I know you wanted more. ‘I recognize this place,’ she said. ‘That’s Death Valley down there.’ ‘Yep, that’s Death Valley. I love it. It’s a great place to escape for awhile.’ For a long time, we sat and looked at the salt flats below. I puffed on my cigar, coughing furiously at times, but Molly was lost in thought and ignored me. ‘This is called Dante’s View,’ I said, in my most friendly manner. ‘We’re more than five thousand feet above the valley floor.’ ‘My kids…where are my kids?’ she said in a sudden fit of a. More

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