This was the old Stinson home in Woodbine, Kentucky. I remember driving by this driveway several times back in 1984 before I gathered up the courage to pull in and ask if this was the Charles Edward Stinson residence. As soon as I pulled in and stepped out of my car...a lady came out on the front porch and said, "Oh, Charles...it's Rodney!" This is a woman that had not seen me since I was 2 years old. It was my grandmother. Soon, her husband...my grandfather...stepped out and before I knew it...I was inside...sitting on a dirty couch...the floor was sinking toward the pot belly stove near the center of the house. No indoor plumbing other than water to the kitchen sink. Mrs. Stinson was on the phone with what I was to find out was my father. I remember looking at all the pictures on the wall of all these people I did not know...then I was handed the phone. "Hello Rodney" this rich, baritone voice said. Strangest conversation I have ever had. All I wanted to do was see what my biological father looked like. Now I was hearing the voice of a ghost. Someone I knew by name and that was about it. I found out on Facebook that my father died September 21, 2014 so I won't go into great detail...but I am glad I got to meet him. If for nothing else...as a window into my own future if I didn't change my ways. If he needed peace for his decisions of the past involving me...in the end...I gave him my forgiveness. The last time I saw him was at his baptism in Corydon, Indiana back in 2005. He wanted all his children there. As I was getting in my car to drive home...he said, "Love you,son" and I told him I loved him, too. That was it. Atonement. He never saw our daughter. He knew of her. He saw pictures. I am more protective of her than I am myself.