My dad was quite a character. He was really strict, really fair. If I screwed up, I got in trouble right away. There was no messing around much. My father was pretty gruff. He was a lawyer by trade, but a redneck by birth. He’d go to work in a suit and tie, slick his hair back and put on glasses and stuff, and then he’d come home, put on overalls, no shirt and a ball cap. He was a very imposing man — six foot three and over 300 pounds. It was like having John Wayne, Patton and Clint Eastwood all rolled up into one guy. And he was very gruff, and he always smoked a cigarette like this, and he talked like this. He said, “Son, don’t make me come over there, ’cause I’ll give you something to cry about.” Screwed up, you got your butt kicked right away. You know, old school, old school, old school.