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“They wheeled my father up. "Hi Dad," I touched his hand, which was locked down under a thick restraining belt. His sweat pants were stained with food; the socks on his feet were twisted and wrong. "We'll meet you inside," I yelled. My father craned his neck and answered: "Two. Four. Seventeen." The New York Times Magazine, LIVES” — Lisa K Friedman
They wheeled my father up. "Hi Dad," I touched his hand, which was locked down under a thick restraining belt. His sweat pants were stained with food; the socks on his feet were twisted and wrong. "We'll meet you inside," I yelled. My father craned his neck and answered: "Two. Four. Seventeen."
The New York Times Magazine, LIVES