I have no memory of meeting my father, Kenneth Burgess. To this day I don't understand why my mother forbid him to be a part of my life. As far as I can ascertain we were very much alike -- He was the rebellious sort, a bit of a jokester, wore his hair long for years, had a penchant for Hawaiian shirts and was passionate when it came to photography. He was the type of father a boy would be lucky to have. He was the type of father I desperately needed. He died of leukemia at 37 years old.