Every once in a while, he would say these very strange things.

Like, if anything ever happens to me, you guys will be taken care of.

Out of the blue, and it's kind of like, what would go wrong?

I'm like, why would anything happen to you?

But underneath, there's this very unsettling feeling of like, I don't know what you're trying to tell me, Dad.

This is death, sex, and money.

You're killing me, small.

The show from WNYC about the things we think about a lot.

You're a virgin who can't drive.

And need to talk about more.

I make more money than Kelvin College.

I'm Anna Sale.

I have this photo here of my dad, asleep.

This is Whitney Joyner.

We're sitting in her Brooklyn kitchen,

and she's just pulled this picture off of her refrigerator.

I don't know whose porch this is. He's taking it up. It's probably somewhere in Kentucky, where they lived when she was growing up. No date on the back. But I like this because it's just him in repose.

Having photos of her dad around her apartment, this is new for Whitney. Only in the last year or so has she really looked at what he left behind. I have his family Bible. I have his copy of Gone with the Wind,

which apparently he read 17 times. Whitney's father, Joe, died in September 1992, and there are a

lot of things she doesn't know about his life. I just have little pieces here and there.

Like I have this card from somebody who is talking to my father,

who obviously knew my father as a gay man.

...