My father and I only argued about one thing regularly: his driving. Because he had epilepsy. In 1948, when my father was 17, he fell out of a moving car. He was in a coma for three days. A dime-sized titanium plate was put in his skull. Thirteen years later he started having both petit and grand mal seizures. I was 9 years old when I first saw him have a seizure. He was driving the two of us in East Salinas and an elderly man with a cane was walking across the road. Suddenly my father slumped... Read this story