..She drives down long, straight, dark roads, the only light the pale green glow of her dashboard and the bright, white headlights of approaching cars... She feels the tightness in her chest, the way it makes her breathing quick and shallow, the raw, dry ache in the back of her throat and the itchy heat behind her eyes as her vision blurs slightly, her arms feeling heavy and numb on the steering wheel, her head a dead weight on her neck as she sinks deeper into her seat under the pressure of her. My father was a printer and publisher, and more importantly at the time, an influential man in the politics of the area. He had come to America from England with his father at an early age. He had been academically brilliant and his father's skills with the typesetting equipment of the day made the family prosperous. By the time he was in college, his father owned his own business, and while he had no interest in politics, he understood its importance to anyone whose business was printing the. More

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