On Mother’s Day in 1983, Dad, my brother Johnny, and I presented Mom with a silver, 30-pound, top-loading VCR with a wire-connected remote control. It was our family’s first VHS player. That magical movie box, a wonder of Cold War-era technology, was responsible for my first foray into fiction writing. So magical. I couldn’t tell you what my parents were doing while Johnny (7) and I (10) covertly watched an hour of The Exorcist, nor do I remember what the two other, likely mo