Rumpus contributor Julie Morse remembers her father over at The Toast:
During the last handful of years of his life my father became one of those unruly cool dads, perhaps exceptionally unruly. My sister and I had no curfews and he would congratulate us when we regaled him with stories of crazy nights out. After he and my mother divorced, he bought a house that he spent hours decorating. Each wall was covered in framed photographs, pictures of Red Sox players, portraits of musicians, and paintings. On weekends, his band would rehearse in our living room, beckoning complaints from the neighbors. Months before he died, he suggested that I drop out of school and do something worthwhile, like make a film or bicycle cross-country