I Showed Up to Christmas Dinner with a Cast on My Foot and a Voice Recorder in My Pocket — My Son Laughed in My Face and Said I “Deserved It”… Then the Doorbell Rang and I Said, “Come In, Officer.” I arrived at Christmas dinner limping, my right foot wrapped in a cast and my heart colder than the December wind sliding through the streets of our old Brooklyn house. Three days earlier, my daughter-in-law had shoved me down the front steps. Not an accident. Not a stumble. Two firm hands between my

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