Jimi Hendrix, My Dad, and Me on the Fourth of July (Memoir)

Jimi Hendrix, My Dad, and Me on the Fourth of July (Memoir)

I’m the child of hippies. Counter-culture, flowingly-bearded, long-hair-parted-down-the-middle, love children from the Midwest. My mother got pregnant with me after my father returned from being a soldier in Vietnam. And I was named after a hitchhiker named Kip...
The Final Time My Father Said, “Come on, Hit Me” (Memoir)

The Final Time My Father Said, “Come on, Hit Me” (Memoir)

During the last year I lived at home with my family in Minnesota, I was a bad boy. A miscreant. A drunken, drug-addled fiend searching for sustenance in the cultural desert of the arctic Midwest. My punk rock insanity was fueled by a series of traumatic events that...