At that time I had just finished writing my papers on Utopia and was anxious to share them. Dad and Justin sat down on a sofa near the window, and I pulled up a chair in front of them. I handed Dad the papers and waited as he got comfortable, adjusted his trifocals, and began to read my pencil-written, all-caps documents. I wondered if he would be able to see beyond the pencil writing on unlined paper and instead focus on the content. The script alone lent a disturbed look to the documents. Dad made it through the first page and then lifted it to see how many more there were. He peered at me over his glasses and said, "You do realize this is crazy, don't you?" It wasn't the response I'd wished for. I was hopeful that he might find it interesting on some level. It was just an idea, a rough draft. I'd put a lot of work and thought into those papers. After scrutinizing the remaining pages, Dad handed the papers back to me. Justin asked if he could read them, so I offered them to him. He read through them all and said, "You're a good man, Uncle Ken.
