Growing up in Western Pennsylvania - in the heart of "steel country" - my father began working in the steel mills well before I was born. Dad was a hard worker, providing for our family the very best he could. The steel mills were not run like a typical 9-5 "shirt and tie" job. They ran twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. My father worked the night shift, meaning he worked from eleven at night until seven in the morning. Because he worked all night, he slept all day. I didn't really see much of him except for at dinner time, which was ALWAYS a family event. We would discuss our day, and how our school work was coming along. We would also discuss anything new that had happened, as long as it was appropriate dinner conversation. My parents believed those evening meals together were an important part of being a family. Mom was a stay at home mom all during our elementary, and Junior High School days. Wanting to be involved in our education, Mom was a PTA mom and was even PTA President for a few years at our Elementary School. Needless to say, she knew everyone, and everyone knew her. Getting away with being anything but a “good girl”, was impossible. Mom had me involved in the Girl Scouts, as well as the music program where I played the violin and the clarinet. Eventually, Mom started working around the time I was twelve or thirteen, just part time while my brother and I were in school. We still always had family dinners, and spent as much time as we could as a family. Summers were great! Hide and seek, whiffle ball, bike riding, and sleepovers were a must. I remember sitting out on the front porch with Dad listening to the baseball games on the radio. I wasn't a girly girl, but I was definitely not a tomboy either. Camping out in the tent was a big part of what made a lot of summer memories. My dad and brother were involved in Boy Scouts so they were always prepared and up for any kind of camping trip. It was a nice and relaxing way to spend family time. As fall approached, I would dread Sundays, knowing Dad would be parked in front of the television, watching football: The Pittsburgh Steelers, which is what our little town was all about. If there were any other teams, I never knew it, or heard anything about them. Then again, I never paid much attention. Back then, I never could understand how football was remotely entertaining. I would rather have been hiking through the woods or finding an outdoor activity to pass my time. I did, however, on rainy Sundays, sit with Dad to see what all this hoopla was about. Just to be a non-conformist, I decided I was going to root for a team OTHER than the home town favorite. What a rebel I thought I was! The San Francisco 49ers was my team of choice, although I couldn't tell you why I chose them, I just didn't want to be part of the “Steeler Nation,” as it is called. Dad was always a practical joker and because of that, April Fool’s Day was one of his favorite days of the year. Most of the time, his little practical jokes were pretty funny; but there were those times I just didn't get his weird sense of humor. I can remember one summer day when my dad had to repair something on the roof next to the chimney. My mom was cleaning and I had just come running in the house from a bike ride. Out of breath I quickly asked where my dad was, wanting him to inflate my bike tires for my next ride. No sooner had she said, “I don't know, on the roof I think,” I began to hear a faint cry of someone yelling, “HELP, HELP ME, HELP.” Panic set in and I instantly began screaming to Mom that Dad had fallen off the roof. I could feel the tears trickling down my cheeks and my heart was pounding out of my chest. I was frozen in place, I couldn't find my legs, and I stood there in sheer panic. My mother flew out the front door and within seconds I could hear her yell, “You're not funny Richard! You scared the daylights out of us.” With a fro