In 1968 my father and others, then students at Bronx Science, broke into their closed campus during a teacher's strike to create a liberation school that ended up teaching hundreds of students during the school's closure. Throughout his time in high school, in the wake of Brown v. Board of Education and the Civil Rights Act, he coordinated protests of the Vietnam war and the draft, demanded more community involvement in public schools, and helped launch an inter-city high school free press. Years later, a book was written about the student protest movements at the time and the description of my father (slide 3) always makes me laugh. He continued to be terrifying and mesmerizing -- funny and brilliant and flawed -- for the rest of his life. And he was organizing movements and people until the very end. I'm sharing this piece of him, and me, as both context and apology for parts of my personality (it's genetic, sorry...) and also as a thank you to everyone who has loved me and my family so well this past year. Thank you for your patience, understanding, food, calls, jokes...everything. 2021 was my hardest yet, but 2022 is my year of gratitude. Love you Daddy ❤️