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Decades later I would look into my father's eyes and try to reach past the murkiness of Alzheimer's with my words, my apology, hoping that in his heart he heard me and understood.

As a father now, I wouldn't do what my dad did, because it left me feeling emotionally unstable as a kid. But he didn't do the things he did out of selfishness or malice.

If my father had hugged me even once, I'd be an accountant right now.

Our dad hugged us and kissed us so much that some friends and relatives complained that he was going to turn us into sissies or homosexuals. But my dad didn't care. Let them raise their kids in a reserved and reticent way. He grew up in Israel, and his boys were going to be hugged and kissed by their father and know they were loved.

The fathers, if they got me alone, would try to kiss and fondle me. I hated it.

I think he would have been proud and smiling... when we laid him to rest because his family was together. I think that was a great gift to be able to give Dad at the end.

When it comes to Father's Day, I will remember my dad for both being there to nurture me and also for the times he gave me on my own to cultivate my own interests and to nurture my own spirit.

I would never have done what I'd done if I'd considered my father as somebody I wanted to please.

I would hate for my father to regret all his support that he's given me over the years and be embarrassed by anything I chose to do.

If I did not have for him the warm affection a son feels toward a less austere and preoccupied father, I at least had an immense respect for him, and a great admiration.