My name is Nicholas DeAngelis. I am 40 years old and I live in beautiful sunny south Florida with my wife and 3 children. My life started out pretty rough, due to the fact that I was born in the south and had a white father and a black mother. As a kid it was often hard for me to fit in. The white kids never really excepted me because my skin was brown, and the black kids never really excepted me because I had "good hair", so I wasn't black enough.

This is me with my dad, Louis Joseph DeAngelis. My dad was the coolest dad in the world, and ended up taking care of me after he and my mother divorced. The oldest memory having both of my parents in the same place at the same time is actually pretty horrible. I was 2 years old, and I remember my mother sneaking me out of the house. I know it was late because it was very dark and very quiet outside. My mother picked me up and put me in the backseat of my dad's yellow Camaro. I remember looking out the back window of the Camaro and seeing flashes of light that seemingly passed by in both directions every few minutes. This flashes of light were from a taxi that my mother called in the middle of the night, she was trying to sneak away with me in the middle of the night. I did not comprehend what was going on, I was a baby for goodness sake, but I knew something was wrong. I don't remember much after that, but I ended up with my dad in the end and I know it was for the better.

Years went by and honestly I have very little recollection of my mother up until about the age of 11. That is because on my 11th birthday, my dad thought it would be a good idea to fly my mother to Providence Rhode Island, where we were living at the time, so she could spend my birthday with me. My dad thought it would be a good idea for my mother to stay with us, we lived in a 3 Storie house so we had plenty of room. Unfortunately my mother tried to convince me to come back to Memphis with her, she even went as far as forcing me to hide in my closet when my dad came home with the hopes of sneaking me away like she tried to do so when I was 2. Keep in mind that this is one day before my 11th birthday. My mother just could not understand why I chose to stay with my dad, but never acknowledged the fact she chose to live her life without me for 8 years, then assumed that I would be willing to turn my back on my best friend.

What my mother didn't understand is that my dad was my best friend. He never made me feel like I didn't belong. He taught me about music, culture, art and technology. He was my T-ball coach, basketball coach, and he even volunteered as an art teacher when I was in elementary school in Rhode Island.

My dad hated the color barriers in the states, so when I was 12 years old we packed up and moved to San Juan Puerto Rico. These were the best times of my life, this is where my dad taught me something I will have with me until I die, surfing.

My dad passed away in 2008, and I am still not over it. All of his lessons are still with me and I can now pass them on to my own children. Because of him I am a musician, and IT professional, a surfer, and most importantly a good father to my sons.

I am who I am because of him, and I wouldn't change a thing, except for his third wife... But that is another story for another time.

This one is for you dad. I miss you...