*The image used is Henry Wadsworth Longfellow by Thomas Buchanan.   I’m sitting underneath a painting of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. It’s a stately painting, and the man who created this work of art is the man who is supposed to be my biological father. Longfellow’s stern, bearded countenance is aimed down at me as I slug on a dark beer in a cold glass. My own face and beard, less gray and less lined, are lit by a combination of votive candles and streetlights. A mirror hanging on the wall next to my head reveals all this from time to time whenever I deign to gaze back at the man I see before me, the reflection of myself in my 30’s. The dichotomy of…