Ben Shaberman — Senior Director, Scientific Outreach, Foundation Fighting Blindness, Washington, D.C.

My parents were divorced when I was two, and moving forward, I lived with my mom. She was a loving mom, but provided virtually no supervision. I had a decent relationship with my dad — seeing him on weekends — but we mainly went bowling, saw movies, and ate pizza. I really never knew him well nor did he ever really try to parent me.

When I was a junior in high school, my dad made an enticing offer: Move to Miami to live with him. I could escape from Cleveland winters living with my flighty mom and grumpy grandfather in a shitty little two bedroom condo.

So, I broke my mother’s heart and moved down to Miami to live with my dad. Our relationship was okay in Miami — our best moments were watching Batman episodes on TV during breakfast before I went off to school.

But most of my time was spent with friends — with whom I mainly cut class and smoked pot to pass the time. Yes, I had gotten in with a rebellious crowd which was actually an extension of my M.O. in Cleveland.

Problem was: My dad had no idea what I was up to — that is until I went away to Cleveland on a two week vacation during the holidays. While I was gone, my dad received the absence notices in the mail that I had been intercepting and he found my impressive collection of pipes, bongs, and roach clips.

When he picked me up at the airport in Miami after I returned from vacation on Sunday evening, he told me what he had learned and simply said things were changing in a big way. I really had no idea what he had planned but I knew exactly what my plan was.

The next morning I called my mom and told her I wanted to come back to Cleveland where I knew I would be able to continue my carefree stoner lifestyle. Within hours, she had a plane ticket waiting for me at the Miami airport. At about 3 p.m., I took my dad’s jar of laundry money which got me by taxi about two blocks from the Miami airport — close enough. I remember how determined I felt hauling the huge, heavy suitcase with all my possessions up the ramp to the airport.

I never felt such relief when later that evening the plane bound for Cleveland Hopkins Airport left the ground and I was free.