(As appearing on The Today Show Parenting site) http://community.today.com/parentingteam/post/i-am-my-fathers-son My father was not your Ozzie and Harriet type of dad. Never coached a little league game. Never taught me to ride a bicycle. Didn’t take me on college tours or help with algebra homework. Didn’t wear cardigans, smoke a pipe or drink martinis. No camping, …

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Four teenage girls piled into my car, clad in their Mario Brothers matching outfits – one set of green, one set red. The ritual of Halloween parties and trick-or-treating (more of a coming together of suburban teenage texters and tweeters) now officially over, the girls with their straightened hair and braces-less shiny white teeth Snapchatted …

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When I first got my driver’s license many moons ago, I was ecstatic at the prospect of the open road. I could drive anywhere and everywhere I wanted (or as far as my gas money or my dad’s gas card would take me). Errands for my mom? No problem. Pick up five friends and stuff …

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