Each essay in this collection is not a chapter. The patchwork construction of this book is not necessarily in order of theme or in order of time. It is a quilt; a faded tapestry; reminding you of times past; memories that run together, clouding the truth. Having worn edges and faded colored threads, they seem to disappear from the fabric of reality. The stories are all basically true, yet I will admit are prone at times to the whims of fiction and the fancies of exaggeration. They are told by Christopher Sergeant, about his family and his travails of "Forty Years in the Closet" trying to find...