Last time I spoke to my dad was on his birthday, which was two days before Christmas. He said, and I quote: "What the fuck do you want?" I said "I wanted to wish you a happy birthday, ya fucking asshole," and hung up. He tried to apologize on Christmas, but I was having none of it. Three years later, I buried him on my twenty-fifth birthday. That was in 1995.

The point I'm trying to make is: No matter what kind of asshole your old man is, call him anyway. You'll feel better about being the bigger person down the road.