My father became her sole caretaker, and she was less than appreciative. He wore long sleeves even in the summer because she scratched his arms in anger when he was helping her to the bathroom. But in Florida my father had no friends, so I worried how he would cope with the lack of personal purpose once she was gone. As a teenager, my father had been declared a prodigy by his art teacher. He had commuted an hour-plus each way from Brooklyn to go to the High School of Industrial Art in Manhattan and then to Pratt Institute.

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Organizations: High School of Industrial Art, Pratt Institute Locations: Long, Fort Myers, Fla, Florida, Brooklyn, Manhattan