[inspirational brass melody]
- Laura Greenberg: My father would be in his boxer shorts
in front of the stereo with a baton.
He loved classical music, and he would play it really loud,
and he would conduct the orchestra.
And he's a little fat bald man,
and he'd get behind the wheel of a car
and he'd become like a Napoleon.
He became nuts.
He gave everybody the finger.
He never used the brakes.
And I remember being so frightened,
I'd sit in the back, on the floor, crying.
Because I said, "We're gonna die."
The problem growing up in my home
was that I didn't know what was normal.
We're yelling and we're pinching and we're hugging
and we're cursing and...
We peed with the door open.
I mean, I didn't know this was not normal behavior.
I didn't know people had secrets;
you didn't tell your mother everything.
- Rebecca Greenberg: When did you learn?
- Well, it's still hard.
- Who were your old boyfriends?
How many did you have before Dad?
- I didn't have a lot of boyfriends.
I had the neighbor boy.
He wore his pants really high.
My mother loved him.
But nobody wanted to have sex with me, really,
until I met your father.
He was cute but very, very quiet,
and I scared the crap out of him.
The first time he kissed me,
he had a nosebleed all over his face,
he was so nervous.
It was terrible.
It was-- I don't know.
Still married 35 years later.
Unbelievable. - [daughter chuckles]
Has your life been different than what you imagined?
- Yeah, a little bit.
I married a Jewish lawyer.
I thought I'd found success.
And he makes no money.
But, you know, he's an indigent defense criminal lawyer,
so he saves lives.
And when I knew I was having a daughter, I called my mother,
and she says, "Every mother should have a daughter."
And she died before you were born.
- But I have her name.
- You have her name.
And, um, she would have been very happy.
♪♪