Ya. My father started his own Christian church in his basement. After clerking our Friends meeting, after divorcing my mom, after all the incest and inappropriate exposure, photos, and “just touching.”

I guess he forgave himself, although he never asked me.

He “preached” to a set of slides, to about 10 random lost-looking souls sitting in white plastic chairs. That was the only time I stayed for his “service,” and the hot dogs they served afterwards.

My reaction? Just don’t try to imagine hot dog barf.