“Daddy wore a coat and tie when he wasn’t playing golf—
even to fight gorillas . . .”

Around ten, the phone rang. We were all in bed. I was two.
“Joe,” he heard the voice slur, “There’s a fellow with a gorilla

down here. Says he’ll play a hundred bucks to anybody
who goes five minutes with his monkey and walks out

under his own steam.” Daddy said, “Where is he?”
into the black receiver, heavy enough itself to be a weapon.