I remember the ’80s as a mean decade. In 1981, when I was six, my parents separated. I started eating a lot, and kids teased me for being fat. I watched a lot of TV. Saturday mornings meant Pop-Tarts and “Felix the Cat.” Eventually I would get into harder songs.
My dad had my brother and me on weekends. On Friday nights, we would go to Straw Hat Pizza and watch “The Dukes of Hazzard” on the big screen. One of the big mysteries of my childhood was why we never saw the face of the man playing guitar. Also: It didn’t escape me that the bad guy on the show was fat, like me.