2 / I Took My Son Back to My Hometown — The Way People Looked at Him Still Haunts Me
“This is my son, Alan,” I said. Jude couldn’t speak at first. He just stared. Alan, meanwhile, smiled and ran off for another corn dog. “How old is he?” Jude finally asked. “Eight,” I said, suddenly breathless. And then it hit me — Alan’s features, his posture, even the way he crinkled his nose when…