After the shock of a credible response from my shot-in-the-dark classified ad, I spent the weekend crafting a letter to the man that could be my alleged birth father. What were the odds that this Cuban golf pro Lothario had been right near Bard all along? If he wasn't "the guy", would he cooperate and name names?
Below is the letter that I Fedex'd off on Monday morning with huge, flapping, crazed butterflies in my stomach:
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