NY Post
May 27, 2014
When David Good was a kid, and his friends asked where his mother was, he’d always say the same thing: She died in a car crash.
“I experimented with responses, and I found that the most effective,” David says. “I could see the horror in their faces” — he laughs — “and there would be no more questions.”
His dad, Ken, couldn’t understand: “I’d say, ‘Why don’t you just say your mom’s Venezuelan, and your parents are divorced? It’s so common.'”
But the story of David’s mom — who she was, where she came from and why she left — was so complicated and painful, he couldn’t bring himself to talk about it.
“I didn’t want my friends to know that my mom’s a naked jungle woman eating tarantulas,” he says today. “I didn’t want to be known as a half-breed. And it was my revenge; I was angry that she left me. So I just wanted to stick with the story that she was dead.”