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"My parents were waiting for me to become something they’d approve of, and I was waiting for them to accept me for who I was."

To populate our Substack page, we’re re-running some old essays on Fridays. This one is for the adult children out there: It took some old VHS tapes from my parents’ storage unit to remind me that even the most dysfunctional families have happy memories hidden somewhere.

And if you like what we do and want us to continue doing it, we need your help. So …