Making perfect spaghetti is a delicate art. Italian cooks spend hours in the kitchen selecting the best ingredients, grating the cheese and mixing the finest spices, a pinch of this and dab of that. It takes time, patience and a great recipe. Growing up is the same. It takes time, patience and nurturing. Except, growing up is complicated. It is made more difficult by a controlling abusive mother. Stir in an absentee womanizing father. Let simmer with a family that believes all problems can be solved with enough money. Add plentiful amounts of morality provided by the Catholic sisters whose view of life is as black and white as their habits. Sprinkle in a dash of insecurity, a dollop of awkwardness and a heaping tablespoon of hormones. Then throw away the traditional recipe and add the 1960s--sex, drugs and rock and roll. Let it cook. It is said that a watched pot never boils, but a pot with its lid clamped down--explodes.
