I am a father of two boys.

    In all the years that I’ve been a dad, I’ve never been happier.

    We’ve had our share of problems.

    But none have been as profound as my dad’s relationship with my mother.

    He was my best friend and a big reason I was able to do what I did for nearly 10 years, from being a lawyer to a business executive to the United States Ambassador to Israel.

    One day in 2005, while I was working at the office of the National Review, I noticed that he had been dating my mother, a retired professor who had recently given birth to her second child.

    He seemed to be having a difficult time connecting with his own children.

    The two of us had a falling out.

    He became angry with me.

    He called me a racist.

    I didn’t know what to say.

    I knew I had to do something.

    So I took a chance.

    I called the National Rifle Association.

    I told my boss that I was going to tell my boss, the NRA’s president, Chris Cox, that he should fire him.

    He didn’t want to fire me, he just didn’t like me.

    I went home and cried for a while.

    I thought about it and realized I needed to make a choice.

    I should tell my bosses that I’m gay.

    I was already married.

    I had a boy, and I didn`t want to be seen as a hypocrite.

    But I had no choice but to tell them.

    Cox told me that his boss would have to fire him if he told the NRA.

    I think he had to because if I did, it would give my boss a platform to say that gay people should be fired.

    So we went through the NRA website, the National Association for Gun Rights, and we found a page for the NRA meeting.

    We typed in our names and typed in a brief statement.

    It read: We are proud to be a part of the NRA, which is dedicated to keeping guns out of the hands of violent criminals and the dangerously mentally ill.

    We believe that in America, gun ownership should be an inherent right, not a privilege.

    I remember the shock and horror on my face when I typed that.

    I don’t remember the exact wording, but I know I cried.

    I cried for the first time in my life.

    I felt like I was walking into the NRA headquarters, walking in on a room full of angry white men, screaming at each other, screaming that the NRA should have a right to fire people.

    But then I thought: Maybe I was being too harsh.

    I decided to call Cox, and after a couple of days of trying to talk to him, he called back.

    He said, “Well, you know, you have to tell your boss that it`s a mistake.”

    He said that if he had fired me, I probably would have been fired anyway.

    He apologized.

    He did.

    He told me I shouldn`t worry about the reaction because I had just made the decision to tell him.

    I said, Well, I guess I have to live with that.

    He laughed.

    He really didn’t believe me.

    And he told me he would give me a job.

    He went to work at a gun store in Connecticut and he worked so hard, and he loved the job.

    But one day, the manager came in, and she saw me there.

    She was a little surprised.

    I explained that I didn�t think my story was appropriate because I hadn’t told my bosses what happened.

    She said, Okay, well, let me ask you a question.

    Do you know who the president of the United State is?

    Do you remember who the CEO of Walmart is?

    You are a gay man.

    How did you decide to come out to your boss?

    I told him that I did.

    I asked him, what was he thinking?

    He told him he was thinking about the President.

    So what was I thinking?

    I asked again.

    He responded that he was afraid that my boss might fire me because he might find out.

    I wanted to tell that to my boss.

    He had no idea what he was talking about.

    He asked me if I wanted an explanation.

    I replied, No, I don`t know what you`re talking about, but if you were going to fire someone, I wouldn`t fire them.

    So he said, You need to tell me.

    What is my answer?

    I said I don’ want to talk about it.

    And so I walked out of his office, got into my car and drove to his home in suburban Chicago.

    I drove past the police station, past the library, past his kids.

    I kept on driving, driving, because I knew my boss was going through hell.

    And then I noticed the sign on the door: I am gay.

    So, I opened the door and I was standing there, a little scared, waiting to see who would come inside.

    There was a man who looked just like


    How to find a beauty salon

    The beauty salon scene in San Francisco is filled with beauty gurus and celebrities, but for many in the city, the most coveted salon in town isn’t the one at Union Square or the one that hosts the Golden Globes.The beauty industry has become a…