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How My Father Became Cool Fighting a Book Ban

The morning after my father attended my high school's PTA meeting, teachers stopped me in the hall to say, "Your father is a remarkable man." By third period, I'd heard from two other teachers that my dad was cool.

I thought my father, who rarely went to PTA meetings, was an embarrassment. He was a Korean minister and also worked for Voice of America's Korean Service. I was a 1968 hippie 11th-grader. My dad was smart, hardworking, his round head topped with thinning gray hair, sonorous on the pulpit and gullible for direct mail charity appeals. He wore black suits from Penney's. A staunch anti-communist, my dad believed in the necessity of the Vietnam war. My dad was not cool.

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And here’s another reason why I love Red Room: Gina Misiroglu of Red Room put me in touch with AOL, which is one of the great ways in which she's bringing traffic to Red Room and bringing attention to Red Room’s authors.